all in a name

I am not one to use my name in sentences, as people often like to do…”it’s Fayt that we met.” Yikes! The name Fayt both attracts and frightens people, especially romantic interests of the dramatic persuasion. Like I have some sort of magical power to control the forces of the future because of my name. Nope it’s just a fluke. I like my name, I said to my friend Bill. He raised his eyebrows an started to laugh. It sounded vain and he was quick to let me know. Though what I meant was I am grateful for my name and it has served me well, innuendos and all.

Which brings me to this past weekend. I went on an adventure with my friend M.C. to a fabulous letterpress warehouse to find her some things she needed for her Vandercook press and I was in search of a replacement for my lost name stamp. The place, Letterpress Things, in Chicopee, Massachusetts is a print makers dream come true. Press’s of all shapes and sizes, type, ink, parts anything and everything you could hope for. John, the owner was so helpful, taking the time to greet everyone and help us individually. He also told us a funny story about his trip to San Francisco that happened to coincide with Gay Pride Weekend and his unsuspecting wife’s response to the men wearing leather chaps sans the Levi’s.

So what the hell does this have to do with my name, you might be wondering? Well I searched for the type that matched my old name stamp but I did not even know the name of the font. Trying to locate specific type in a letterpress shop without knowing the font is like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. I looked through a book trying to identify it and could not find a match, so I gave up. After all was said and done, things bought, stories exchanged, I pulled out my business card and offered it to John. I thought then, maybe I should ask him if he recognized the font. He said he wouldn’t be able to but pointed to an older gentleman that was wandering around and said “but he would” and beckoned the man to help. The gentleman took my card, looked at it, walked over to the book of type that I had spent a half an hour looking through and located the font in two minutes. I was ecstatic to say the least. Then the man said “I think we have that type here” and walked over to one of the many drawers, pulled it open, picked up some letters, looked at them and said, “yes, this is it.” Double happiness! I asked John if I could buy only the letters of my name, expecting him to say no as the entire case of type was for sale, thinking he probably did not want to break the set up. John walked over to the drawer, my eyes wide and hopeful and said to me “ you’re making it difficult” while quickly sifting through the letters putting my name together and said "here, put it in your pocket.” Yup, that's right, he not only broke up the set but he gifted the type to me to boot. Triple happiness!

I guess it was Fayt that brought me there. Did I just say that?