Once upon a time!

(The sad sad story of the beautiful Gypsylocks)

A long long time ago in the small but very blue kingdom of Vermont, the lovely young and petite GypsyLocks received her first spark of life, breathed into life from the Patchwork Sampler… This was so long ago that as she grew up she didn’t even have a web page. She was not very large (4 pages) and didn’t go out in public very often (just 12 times a year). She couldn’t see very far into the future (just one month) nor very far away (not far from Vermont), she was a bit slow (if she didn’t know about an event at least 2-6 weeks in advance, she never told anyone), and once she spoke, she couldn’t change her mind (that’s always a problem with paper).

But she managed to make many dancers happy!

Unlike her more famous relative, GypsyLocks ate the medium bowl first. You might say her life was “just right”. She devoted her life to the dance community and the dance community treated her fairly: She never earned a lot of money — but she never finished any year in the red. During her adolescent years, she had a loyal audience ranging between 400 and 700 faithful dancers, who paid her expenses — in advance! (Actually, it’s hard to believe now but she was a little bit nasty in this respect: she didn’t didn’t give and “free samples”: dancers couldn’t see her information unless they gave her money first!)

Think about that:

700 people were willing to give her $10 each year so she could send them one 11x17 inch sheet of paper each month. And those were 1990 dollars; in today’s dollars that would be $5.92!

But the seasons went round and round (and yes, the painted ponies went up and down) and she grew and morphed some more and her statistics changed. She became the belle of the ball: many dancers list her in their little black books — using bookmarks for their favorite entry point (in fact, more dancers now use bookmarks for their favorite searches than visit through her home page —yes, they do seem to like her services.

Alas she hasn”t always made decisions her mother would approve of. For example, she gives herself away for free (oo that’s not good … that must be why she eats from the small bowl). In fact, in so year since she became so free with herself has she received as much than in any of the subscriber (required payment) years (and that’s in absolute dollars … it’s worse if adjusted for inflation).

Now, the grown–up GypsyLocks may look lovely, but she really doesn’t expect a handsome prince (or frog) to come riding up on a white stallion (she knows better, horses are not allowed in most dances). In fact she likes to “Dance around”. Some people look down on her because she lets anyone have their way with her (data), always giving of her information freely. But she would prefer to spend a little time with every one of those 7000 dancers she helps each month. Why is growing up so hard? Shouldn’t life be better? What if the most regular readers — say the 1500 visitors who visit at least once — each sent her a little something— say the same as those original subscribers gave two decades ago? What if they recognized that they get a service and actually supported her in proportion to the benefit. Heck, what if just the ones who were willing to pay when it was required would so so now that it is voluntary ??? This is after all a fairy tale.

 

But growing up can be very difficult.

Her finances changed too — alas not for the better. The big bad wolf tried to blow her house down. In addition to inflation, he blew increased postage and printing fees at her. So she tried tried again and reinvented herself. She now serves a big Papa bear bowl of information (many more dances and festivals, with more details in a more likely fashion, plus other forms of info such as performer details). But she eats from the little Baby Bear bowl, living on a fraction of her former income — especially when adjusted for inflation.

Life has not always lived up to her dreams. In spite of all her better service to the community, life is difficult — very difficult. Usually when she looks in her pocketbook at the end of the year, she discovers that the wolf is still blowing at her house: once again she has lost money. In fact, midnight always seem near (that’s when all of her computer turn into cucumber, and her mouse turns into a… well, a mouse! She may have gotten rid of the really big printing and postage fees, but her computing costs are way up.

What she does hope and long for is that more of those visitors would help a little. Sometimes she dreams a little. Like, she knows that if every dancer who took information from her gave back just a penny or two for each question they asked, she would not have to come pleading — er, asking— so vocally. Think about it: in June she graciously delivered 97,045 pages. If dancers paid her a penny a page, that would be $970. But she shouldn’t waste her time on such daydreams.

Each year she asks the dancers “who will help me attend these dances?” … “I will!” answer thousands of dancers. …“And who will want to know about future dances?” Again: “I will!” answer thousands of dancers. But when she asks “And who will help me pay for this service?”, “Not I!!!” say the thousands of dancers. and she replies: “I will pay for it myself!” Hmm that is what she has always said. But she knows her life must change, but she’s not sure how. What she does know is that she cannot continue to provide this much information with so little help.

Alas she is no longer a child, momma doesn’t want to support her alone (in fact her ugly aunt wants her to eat a poison apple). And as she ages, she discovers wrinkles. For example, the software she uses to build her listings is getting old and desperately needs replacing. The same with her computing equipment… and those pesky utility creditors keep disturbing her beauty sleep (the aunt wants her to sleep permanently). She is looking under the table for yet another bowl of porridge: perhaps subscriber only,. perhaps reduced services for non–supporters; perhaps affiliating with some other organization. Perhaps filling the pages with advertisements. Her crystal ball is a bit foggy, but she knows she needs a change.

Don’t let Golum get his precious back. Help the Dance Gypsy today.

But perhaps her life can change. A fairy god mother has just offered the Dance Gypsy the Falcon Ridge a ring in the form of tickets tickets which she is willing to give to you. Perhaps that will start a new era, one in which she lives happily ever after?

 

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(For those of you who, like me, never know exactly what is appropriate or common, I provide the following statistics: since the Dance Gypsy switched to voluntary contributions, the average individual donation has been $29.72 but some gave less than $5 (and, yes, those were gratefully received) and a few contributed over $100; donations from organizations were far less numerous, but averaged higher, $73, but obviously each of those those represents a group of dancers and it includes sponsoring organizations)

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