In 1930, the Delta District school in Delta, Utah presented "Little Red Riding Hood" in operetta form. That's my grandmother Lora, the bee on the top left. These stories and more are coming up this afternoon, as we sit down for a video tour of some family photos.
Try it with a grandparent today!
What a beautiful rocking chair, architect Leon Meyer! It makes me want to fold it right up and slide it away somewhere. This sweet chair looks like it can fold, but alas, it cannot, if only because Objects USA has replaced the original supports with heavier gauge steel and secured them all with screws.
This example is signed and marked from 1977, but by the time Meyer got around to patenting the design in 1990, he appears to have given up on the chair's collapsible aspect. Still, mighty fine.
Leon Meyer Rocking Chair, $1500 [objectsusa.com]
Rocking Chair, by Leon Meyer [google patents]
No one becomes an obstetrician so they can interact with more men. So what do four of the whiniest OB's imaginable really think about dads in the delivery room? Thanks to the lack of nametags at Esquire's open bar, now we know.
11 Real Delivery-Room Disasters a New Dad Should Avoid [esquire.com via the awl, where the comments rock]
Sorry for the light posting around here; we've been busy getting ready for the grand opening of the One Cent Street Store.
On the kid's first official day in the business world, she has already learned some important lessons:
Update: Rather than close up shop during swim lessons and lunch, she ran it Amish-style, just left the money cup. Came back and found two pencil sharpeners and a notebook gone. Nice work, Utah!
In 1998, as part of a weekly Style section Invitational contest, the Washington Post put out a call for bad ideas for a children's book. The 21 winners were published online, though since six of the finalists came from two regular Invitational entrants--Messrs. Stephen Dudzik of Silver Spring, MD and David Genser, of Arlington, VA--"finalists" might incorrectly imply there were more than 21 titles submitted.
The timeless quality of this humor is heartwarming and unchanging, until you notice that "Bi-Curious George" could be the title of any book about bonobo chimps. And "How To Dress Sexy For Grownups" has turned out to be the title of half a dozen Powerpoint presentations in the thongs-for-4yos industry.
Anyway, to see which bad ideas become reality in the next twelve years, this exercise was repeated on Twitter on Friday by Slushpile Hell, and the top 25 of 1200+ tweets were aggregated on their tumblr.
I'm sure there are more such lists that have been created and ganked and republished over the years, and you are invited to link to such in the comments.
Week 273: Bad Ideas For A Children's Book [washingtonpost.com]
25 Worst Children's Book Title...Ever [slushpilehell]
Short version: we finally made it to Salt Lake City from Washington DC yesterday, via San Francisco. Naturally, everyone we spoke to along the way thought it was/we were insane to go that way, we had a hard time disagreeing. I alternated between saying we were doing it for the extra frequent flier miles or for the sushi in the airport.
When our SFO flight arrived early, I decided we might even try to catch an earlier flight to SLC than the one we'd been rebooked on, try to shave three or so hours off our 30-hour debacle. With no checked luggage, minimal carry-ons, and [thanks to a bold, last minute decision] no car seat for K2 and no stroller to schlep it on, we made it before the flight closed.
Thanks to the very accommodating United gate agent who, after several minutes of thoughtful discussion and reflection, changed her mind and decided not to charge us $50 each for changing our tickets.
Anyway, there will be no long version of this story. The airlines' greatest PR weapon may be to produce experiences that are so tedious and boring to recount, that people just give up. Meanwhile, if you need me, I'll be at Snowbird, moping about missing the rodeo and losing a day of Hire's Big H burgers, onion rings, and vanilla Diet Cokes.
July 24th is Pioneer Day, the Utah state holiday commemorating the arrival of Mormon pioneers in the Salt Lake Valley. A typical celebration involves a parade of fire trucks and homemade floats pulled by ATV, with EMS workers and be-bonneted churchgoers, respectively, throwing candy at the urchins lining Main Street.
In our case, we decided to honor the suffering, persecution and hardship our forebears endured on their grueling trek across the plains by flying on United, then Delta Airlines. Or at least trying to.
The kids and I were set to fly out of DC to SLC this morning through Chicago. At our gate, we got a notice that our flight would leave an hour late, which would kill our connection. No sweat, no need to stand in that heinous customer service line when I can just call and get us on the next flight out of O'Hare. D'oh, which I'm told is Sunday, through San Francisco, getting in just in time for bed.
So instead, we waited in the heinous line, where an agent spotted a dad traveling alone with two kids--It's a situation that really evokes outsized sympathy, but I wasn't complaining--and rebooked us on a direct flight to SLC in the afternoon. But on Delta, and at National Airport, not Dulles. The only downside: we waited for an extra hour+ for them to pull our luggage, only to be told they couldn't do it, it'll have to catch up to us.
So we came home, hung out, and went to National, which is really a much easier airport to travel from anyway. We had seats together, everything was great, I called just before we pushed back to say we're on our way. And we sat. For two hours, A/C straining until the Delta plane rolled back to a gate. Then we got off. Then we sat.
Three hours and fifty minutes later, the gate agent announces the flight's not technically being canceled, it's just not going anywhere. And since the airport's closing, it can't, and they can't fix it. And this has been really hard for the staff there, who have a lot of other stuff to do before their shift is over.
The 150 people who didn't bail and rebook earlier now all queue up for the one agent to help them--assuming she was going to be staying that long. I got on the phone to Delta and found out we'd been rebooked already. On United, through San Francisco, arriving tomorrow night into Salt Lake.
And me and my total rock star kids, who didn't complain or melt down once during the whole "adventure," hardly had it the worst. We still had a house to come home to. Unlike the family of six [including two just-crawling twins] trying to get home to Boise. Or the weary-looking mamacita with the two tiny kids. And except for the D-bag on the intercom at the end, every person we dealt with at both airlines was nice, apologetic, sympathetic, and as helpful as possible.
But this strikes me as nothing short of a systemic failure of both airlines, but especially United. Their flight network is so full and brittle that a one-hour delay in a shuttle between two hubs results in a cascading collapse. There were people in line losing a day or two to get to Hawaii; one couple was going to miss a cruise leaving from Vancouver. All for a 1-hour delay.
The killer, though, is that as we were driving back into DC this morning from our first aborted takeoff, I got a text message alerting me that our connecting flight from Chicago would be departing two hours late. When we had a fine solution--direct flight on a more reliable-seeming airline--that was so clearly superior to the downside of getting stuck in Chicago for a day, this seemed like no big deal.
But after the Delta debacle, I can't help feeling double or triple screwed. Especially when my mom calls to say she's at the airport picking up the cousins, and oh, she just got our bags, too, they were waiting by the baggage claim. If we had done absolutely nothing, we would have made it to Salt Lake with barely a two-hour delay. But I've replayed the day and every decision point, and there's just no way or time that doing absolutely nothing ever felt like a viable option. Especially traveling with two kids.
Seriously, if you're anything like me, you'd think Munich's OG delights began with McRibs and ended with fried, bubbly apple pies at the McDonald's in front of the airport. Turns out there's an awesome design auction house at every rest stop on the Autobahn, and two outside every train station. And there's enough sweet vintage kid furniture to fill the boot of every station wagon in town.
Here's just a sampling of the stuff that's passed through Von Zezchwitz Kunst Und Design the last few years, in no particular order:
Above and up top, two thirds of a 1928 nursery set by leading Bauhaus carpentry and woodworking professor Erich Dieckmann, which sold in 2009 for EUR1900. The third piece is a plain, little play table.
This uncredited Austrian kid's chair from around 1925 is awesome in a Wiener Werkstatte kind of way; if there was a chance it was really by Josef Hoffmann, it probably would've sold in 2007 [est. EUR 400-500].
This c.1928 chair's about as harsh as I'd expect from a German kindergarten. It sold for EUR190 in 2006.
In context, it makes this 1930 armchair [with what appears to be the original finish] look like a freakin' rococo La-Z-Boy. Actually, what it looks like is rougher approximation of an Erich Dieckmann chair. At EUR200 in 2004, I'd guess an actual Dieckmann attribution is not to be expected.
Meanwhile, by 1935, this is how far the archetypal German kindergarten chair had evolved: not far enough to break the EUR240 estimate in 2007.
Maybe it was the watchful stewardship of the German occupying forces, but I can't imagine a steel band chair being sold anywhere in 1940, much less in France. But there you are, EUR180 in 2004.
Holy smokes, this tops them all: a Czech-designed, convertible kid's table in tubular, chromed steel and wood that puts the much later Schaukelwagen to shame. A version [above] sold in 2005 for EUR1600 flipped over from a playtable to a rocking/see-saw game. But just a couple of years later, a 1935 variation turns up with mesh sides that switches from a table to a crib! Too weird for bidders, in fact, who only took it to EUR400.
hahahahahaha
via @museumnerd's Twitter: Only rarely does a @newyorker cartoon actually make me laugh with surprise like this one did.
Maybe this Breitschwerdt rocking horse from the 70s is in such good condition because no one ever played with it. I'll go ahead and assume that it rock-steps forward, otherwise I can't account for it.
Breitschwerdt was supposedly a toy company known for products of high design and educational value. But except for this [admittedly nice-looking, if plain] horse, the only other toy I've found is a random jumping jack on eBay.de. Anyone?
Lot.No. 452, Pferd, Fa. Breitschwerdt, 1970er Jahre, EUR 300 [herr-auktionen.de]
Wow. Maybe it'll grow on me. Maybe I can paint it brown and turn it into the rocking Jawa transporter I always wanted as a boy.
Or maybe, holy crap, what happened? And how much does BRIO pay you to display that giant logo on the side of their current Taureau rocking bull?
BRIO TAUREAU Red rocking horse, 108 € [littlefashiongallery.com]
It was listed at Wright 20 as "American c.1965," with a no-reserve estimate of just $100.
But I guess at least two people recognized it as the Rocking Ox, introduced in 1967 by BRIO, the largest wooden toymaker in Sweden, our 51st state. Or maybe they just thought it was awesome.
Either way, it sold a couple of weeks ago for $531. Damn.
July 10, 2010, Lot 111: American/ rocking toy/ est. $100-200, result: $531 [wright20.com]
Previously on DT: Vintage BRIO Rox: Molded Ply Ox
Everyone's favorite architopian blogger Geoff Manaugh just geeked out over the massive collection of vintage blocks and building toys in the archives of Montreal's Canadian Centre for Architecture.
The primary target of his fascination is Dr. Richter's Anchor Blocks, a system of molded stone architecture blocks that were created, like Froebel blocks and gifts and kindergarten itself, as part of a mind-molding pedagogic system.
Anchor blocks have turned up here before, and while they're fancy and kind of cool, their basic philosophy--instill "tidiness and order" by copying increasingly complex Northern European-style block towers--is way out of date with our understanding of how play affects kids' development.
Geoff's got a ton of pictures, a healthy dose of history and vision, and a tantalizing comparison of the 3-D building toys for boys vs. the 2-D patternmakers girls were stuck with. Sometimes a tower is not just a tower.
Indefinite in number, but of certain fixed shapes [bldgblog]
Of course, the kit includes only the mounting bracket, not the engine. Which shows that even back in the day, people thought of liability lawyers once in a while. That, or everyone just had half a dozen small motors lying around, in case a kid's project came along.
Check out the fuller, crazier wagon-tuning discussion at Hemmings.
Horizontal Shaft Engines FTW [blog.hemmings.com via dt reader dt]
Another great story from Theo Nion: Kid Ready To Start Playdating Again [theonion via dt reader ponch]
K2 went into a real panic at bedtime the other night; she was suddenly afraid of ghosts. We tried to tell her that ghosts were just pretend, which she already knew, duh. Poor kid, barely two, and she's already having to deal with her parents' cluelessness.
No, it's not that kind of ghost, like Birdy-Bird on Wow Wow Wubbzy, she insisted, it's the other kind of ghost. The one which was bumping the door to our apartment. Which might be the change in air pressure in the hall when the elevator comes.
So I went and stuck my head out the door, and told the ghost to go home. No luck. Finally, the kid said that a sign would work to keep the ghosts away. So she hopped out of bed and cranked one out, got it approved by her sister, then went out and taped it to the door.
I guess if it's the kind of speaking out that's necessary to get Congress to pay attention and to amend the pointless, unfair, and poorly designed testing standards of the CPSIA, then I'll have to put up with it. But damn, the ridiculous, scattershot, illogical ranting Rick Woldenberg is hosting at his CPSIA blog is just #($*%ing annoying.
I'm sure his company's kids products are all perfect, but the unfortunate reality of Woldenberg's industry is that a lax-to-ineffective-to-nonexistent safety regulation system led to tens of millions of lead-tainted toys, and a decade plus of ever-cheaper, ever-shoddier cribs. And it's not a symptom of a broken system, or a CPSC run amok, or a national epidemic of "safety paranoia" to fix real safety problems.
So rather than bitch and moan about government, Congressional, or Democratic evils, how about focusing on the actual problem, which is the CPSIA and its implementation.
Figure out some solutions or changes that aren't politically toxic for legislators, and flog them. Which probably means they can't be "changes" to or "loosening" of standards, but competitiveness and small business job creation/preservation measures. And they can't be susceptible to exploitation by the toy and baby gear giants, who'd love nothing more than to see a ragtag band of woodcarvers effectively gut the CPSIA for them.
High five to the dads--dadbloggers all, in fact--who appeared yesterday in place of the regular Tuesday panel of "Mocha Moms" on NPR's Tell Me More: Jason Sperber of Rice Daddies, Keith Morton of FatherDad, and Paul Fidalgo of Bloc Raissoneur.
The not-at-all hype-y title for the segment, "Do Dads Hate Parenting?" obviously refers to New York Magazine's not-at-all hype-y cover story, "Do Parents Hate Parenting?"
I guess the novelty of actual dads on air talking about work-life balance overwhelmed host Michel Martin's interest in rehashing the anxiety-baiting article. She prefaced several questions with, "Now I'm not trying to be mean, but..." revealing the empathy and understanding gap dads face when entering a parenting conversation that continues to take place almost entirely among women.
But it's a start. And Tell Me More is probably as good a model as we're gonna find right now. It's NPR's replacement for Tavis Smiley, and it's generally successful at its apparent goal, which is to be less a show for/about "black folk" [to use Brother Tavis's famous term] but a news show which just happens to be black. Someday, maybe there'll be hype-y talk radio shows with parents who just happen to be dads.
Do Dads Hate Parenting? [npr]
It occurred to me today that someone with a sharp eye, who has lived through New York City's art history as it's been made, might recognize this incredible molded acrylic structure pictured in the Museum of Modern Art's garden, with a kid running through it.
MoMA has this photo posted on the second floor, with no caption, but a date--1970--that turns out to be wrong. I emailed the image to veteran artist and critic John Perrault, and sure enough, he flagged it as a sculpture by Canadian-New York artist Les Levine.
Turns out it's called Star Garden, and it was displayed at MoMA in the Spring of 1967. It was made by softening and shaping acrylic sheeting called Acrylite using jets of hot air. There's a MoMA press release for the piece, and a May 1967 mention of it in Time. And it looks a lot like other molded acrylic pieces Levine was making at the time.
There was a time when it'd take 2-3 years to solve a blog mystery like that; so three months is pretty good. Next?
works by Les Levine in York University's Canadian artists database [yorku.ca, many thanks john perrault]
That's the price you pay for getting your FriendsWithYou X kidrobot 34-inch fiberglass Mr. TTT bench colabo news from the site which lets BoingBoing read High Snobiety for it: you have to go hunt it down at actual stores, because it's "sold out" online.
It's the kind of sacrifices literally several once-hip folks make when they become parents.
Mr TTT Bench by FriendsWithYou and kidrobot, $650 plus shipping [kidrobot.com via KRonicle via superpunch, who seems to have had it first and boingboing]
Sometimes you kick fatherhood's ass, and sometimes it kicks yours.
It has been a devastating and heartbreaking thing to read Aaron's account on Daddyfiles of his and his wife MJ's discovery, via an early ultrasound, that their daughter possibly had serious, yes, in fact, very serious, actually, extremely rare and, progressive, and terminal developmental defects.
In fact, having what I thought was a really rough week last week, I took a break. Which I realize is an incredible luxury Aaron & MJ did not have. I hope you'll keep their family in your hearts and prayers; they've got a tough row to hoe.
Goodbye Princess. And Thank You. [daddyfiles]
A three-year study of 234 families of kindergarteners published in Child Development found that behavior problems in school are linked to two types of families: Emeshed, like "the emotionally messy Barone family in the family sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond," and Disengaged, like the "seemingly pleasant suburban family in the movie Ordinary People."
Everyone else in the study was classified as Cohesive. "Think the Cosby family," said the lead researcher, University of Rochester assistant professor of psychology Melissa Sturge-Apple.
By focusing on 6-year-olds, researchers have finally solved a developmental mystery hinted at in the groundbreaking research conducted in a library one Saturday by Assistant Principal Vernon, which identified problem children as one of five types: Brain, Athlete, Basket Case, Princess, or Criminal.
A larger study, which will examine whether research methodologies involving videotape analysis produce results based entirely on fictional media, and how it's possible that academics who couch everything in terms of sitcoms nevertheless can't come up with a reference that's less than fifteen years old, is hopefully already underway, mkay?
Behavior Problems In School Linked To Two Types Of Families [medicalnewstoday]
Typologies of Family Functioning and Children's Adjustment During the Early School Years [abstract, wiley.com]
An awesome Dan River sheets ad from Vogue magazine, circa 1964. Check out another one at artist Angelo Plessas' blog.
Ghost or Host? [angeloplessas.com via dt reader alex]
I'll apologize in advance for this week's Friday Freakout. I've been trying hard to muster a freakout over anything, anything at all related to kids, parenting, safety, whatever, that can match the freaking out I've been doing since reading that sitting at a computer all day is basically going to give me a heart attack that no amount of gymgoing will prevent. Daddy Types, Daddy Dies, people! How can anything top that?!
But I must try, even if it kills me. Which it obviously will:
