Twelve Ways to Decorate a Dog: June

"Chinese Buttons make the eyes of the macramé trimmed dog..."—

Family Album

Judged by its cover, this library sale leftover looked more than a little bizarre—

"Grub," according to Goodall's introduction, was simply the family's nickname for son Hugo Eric Louis van Lawick, who spent extended periods of infancy and early childhood accompanying his parents on research trips.

Or, as the pictures and words have it—

There was a time when chimps came first in their lives...

but then things changed.

Grub, says Goodall

... had learned to imitate the roar of a lion, the whooping call of a hyena, the strange high-pitched bark of a zebra, and the grunting and lowing of a wildebeeste long before he could speak a single word of human language.

...

By the time Grub was two he could recognize and identify most of the different sorts of wild animals we encountered around camp or on our drives, just as a city child may pick out different makes of cars he sees in the streets. Grub stands no more danger of being attacked by a wild animal than a city child of being knocked over by a car, but from dawn to dusk our son is never out of the sight of some responsible person.

With pictures mostly by the photographer father, this originally was intended for grandparents and other family, not for publication, says Goodall.

But because so many people enjoyed it we decided that the pictorial account of a baby's life, in surroundings quite out of the ordinary to most people, might be appealing to other children and perhaps to their parents as well.

The result is a weirdly arresting mix: pictures from a childhood lived exceptionally close to a dramatic natural world—

Accompanied by the cutesiest of captions.

I made sure I didn't get left behind...

when Daddy and Mummy packed up to drive 600 miles to the shores of Lake Tanganyika

where the chimps are.
Mummy and Daddy built a whole, huge, strong, well-provisioned cage...

for ME!

In the next year's return to the field—

One morning I asked Mummy to help me study an elephant. But she wouldn't go close enough,

so I decided to study zebra on my own.

When I had finished I rushed back to tell Mummy about them.

The next day we moved to the Serengeti and I was able to get my first close look at a giraffe. Unfortunately it galloped away when Mummy ran after me.

Soon after this Daddy employed two nannies...

they were HUGE fun!

I always helped to collect firewood.

After reassuring readers about adult supervision, the book closes with Grub's kindergarten career ("I attended the local school and enjoyed outdoor sports the most")...

But I kept up O.K. with the academic side, too.

The End...

I've grown up a lot this year. I've learned to be ready for anything.
Now I'm all set for my next safari.

Twelve Ways to Decorate a Dog: May

Felt Fido...

...and Finals

Easter Parade

I have to admit that I spent several minutes transfixed in the aisle at Aldi with Easter promo stuff.

It was the German-made chocolate bunnies, chicks and lambs that had this hypnotic effect. In several different styles: all wacko, and all sugary stuff I don't need. In the end, I couldn't resist this group—

The outfits got me, complete with animal logos. And jolly Gumby-esque creature—

Sister J's immediate reaction: these must come from an East German factory, where the graphic style is unchanged since the 1950s.

I thought the googly-eyed faces are part of a more general German style. Sure enough, J later found this company site with similar stuff.

Although some of these products are a bit higher end ["Fairtrade"; "MinusL" lactose-free], there are others that definitely have appeared at the local Aldi.

Christmas for us; "First day of school" to Germans—

Sadly, there's also a sample of the New Year's fun and luck that we miss—

Twelve Ways to Decorate a Dog: April

April for Appliqué—

Satin appliqué—

On the April 1976 agenda: nothing noted, other than "Easter Vacation"—

... I would settle for it (sigh)...

Survival Under... Attack

Reprint of a federal booklet, with added illustrations and local content. (A scan of the original booklet's text is here.)

The original's cover—

SURVIVAL UNDER ATOMIC ATTACK
THE OFFICIAL U.S. GOVERNMENT BOOKLET

Part of the front matter—

Executive Office of the President
National Security Resources Board
Civil Defense Office
NSTB Doc. 130
UNITED STATES
GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE
WASHINGTON: 1950

The federal booklet has a notice that's also on the back of the Detroit version—

Permission is hereby automatically granted to any responsible organization, institution, individual or concern which wishes to republish this booklet for free distribution, legitimate promotional purposes or for sale.

In reproducing the booklet, however, advertising, promotional material, art work, and typographical styling should conform to the tenor of the text.

Other back cover detail of the Detroit booklet includes a word from the sponsor—

Here's the fine print (and only sign of the booklet's date)—

"DETROITS 250 ANNIVERSARY 1701-1951
1881-1951 HUDSONS 70-YEAR"

Front matter added in Michigan includes names of the military, police and political dignitaries on the state Civil Defense council, a forward by Governor G. Mennen Williams, and a call for CD volunteers.

This is followed by the Feds' Cold War boilerplate text, which urged readers to "KILL THE MYTHS," to learn "SIX SURVIVAL SECRETS FOR ATOMIC ATTACKS," and so on. Some samples of bland reassurance on what to expect when the big one dropped—

WHAT ARE YOUR CHANCES?

WHAT ABOUT BURNS?

Among the practical tips offered—

Take Cover in the Cellar; Upper Floors May Collapse.

Avoid Getting Wet...

Change Outer Garments After Leaving Contaminated Area.

By whatever combination of dumb luck and (eventual) diplomacy happened, we never needed to test these theories.

A few years ago I read this interesting look at post-war Civil Defense planning. The National Security Act of 1947 established institutions to enable a process of continuous civilian, economic, and military mobilization. Andrew Grossman writes that what was aimed at the public used "a sophisticated version of 'communication science' developed during World War II..."

For decades it's been easy to mock the absurdity of the CD efforts (for example, here, and at that blog's links). Grossman's book instead focuses on the seriousness of official planning for a World War III expected to be fought with nuclear weapons. But Grossman also acknowledges that planners at the highest levels—

... distrusted the very social order they were defending... These "wise men" of American foreign policy believed that postwar consumerism, combined with the kind of democracy that was practiced in the United States, would not generate the kind of citizen necessary to combat what was known as "Red Fascism."

To counteract its perceived softness the post-war public had to be made—in Grossman's words—"the consumer of the home front mobilization process." The civil defense planners' target—the growing middle-class that was relocating to suburbs—were also the consumers driving the post-war economy. Not coincidentally, suburbanites were also likely to have space for installing fallout shelters.

Grossman compares Cold War civil defense planning with the late twentieth century focus on terrorism. Of this (late 1990s?) chart—

—Grossman notes the threats to civil liberties inherent in a "hydra-headed bureaucratic planning structure."

As it happens... his book was published August 2001—just around the time of this.

The next month—Presto!—we're at "war," without end.

Oh well... after World War II we got ourselves, in Gore Vidal's words (Screening History), a "military-industrial-political combine that has locked us all up inside a National Security State and has thrown away the key."

The Reds never launched an atomic attack on Detroit, after all. Though with the 1966 accident here, Detroit and vicinity may have had a near miss.

Hudson's met its end the capitalist way: a move to the suburbs, change of ownership and eventual closing. The company's historic downtown store was leveled—not by bombs, but by implosion (1998).

The fate of the city itself is another story, currently in the re-writing. Much like the Cold War, myths are created to support the agendas of moneyed power. Not only is this the perfect opportunity to starve public pensions, there is land for the grabbing, and the big chance to get private hands on all sorts of things that have been held in public trust until now.

A different context, yet prophetic?
)

Twelve Ways to Decorate a Dog: March

"The Hooked Rug dog

is made on a canvas with five squares to the inch, using knitting yarns..."

And then there's that enviable calendar note, which students get to make...