Collecting: The Best Vintage Valentine Ever!

Sometimes I question how deeply rooted my understanding of the human condition is in the scripted television programs of the late 20th Century.  I was fortunate never to have experienced the grade-school humiliation associated with an empty mailbox come time for the yearly valentine exchange.  Frankly, it never even seemed like an option; twenty-eight kids in the class meant twenty-eight cards given and twenty-eight cards received (granted, I was in the first wave of Project Self-Esteem, better known as Project EVERYONE is a winner).  Nevertheless, many television shows presented the now-hackneyed construct of the well-intentioned but hopelessly-geeky kid, forlorn at the absence of valentine cards in his construction-paper inbox (see: Raph Wiggum, et al.).

Hopelessly geeky myself, I always found it hard to reconcile the bevy of Valentine's goodies I received first through fifth grade - even harder still as an adult when exchanging valentines is anything but compulsory.  Imagine my surprise when I opened my actual mailbox and found the best vintage valentine ever!  Sent from my pal, and major wacky tacky booster, Charlotte (via a mutual friend's yard sale), I found Günthers Karneval Fasching, a mid-Century, German booklet of fancy-dress fashions.

Günthers Karneval Fasching
After looking at this cover one too many times, all I can see is a sexy Jane Pauley!

While technically not a valentine (Karneval/Fasching is essentially Deutschland's answer to Mardi Gras), and sent with intentions entirely platonic, I can't help but view the timing and the cover girl's heart-bedecked top hat as a happy holiday greeting.  At only fourteen pages, this booklet is filled with the most colorful cornucopia of carnival costumes I have ever seen.  Get ready to have your socks knocked off!

I love the arrow and handwriting on this one; "dieses oberteil" means "this top/bodice."
I suppose we'll always be left to wonder what the bottom half looked like - if there was
a bottom half.  Flashing at Fasching; it is Karneval!

Aren't these incredible?!?!!  Often self-critical, I've been known to deride my own designs as being far too "costume-y."  I guess I'm not so off base considering that, with a few minor tweaks/edits, I would find it exciting if people wore the designs featured in Günthers Karneval Fasching as everyday clothing.  Even more exciting is that the pamphlet included the complete pattern to each and every costume.  And, if my high school German still serves, I understand that "each style comes in two sizes" very clearly printed and labeled on a two-sided pattern sheet...

Oh boy...
I've heard of vintage patterns printed in such a fashion but I've never been
confronted by such a mess!  Instead of going permanently cross-eyed, I might
just have to settle for drooling over the technicolor images. 

Thank you, thank you, Charlotte, for "Choo-Choo-Choosing" me as the recipient of your thoughtful gift (and for mailing it to me).  Any mail that isn't a bill, a ticket, or a jury summons is good mail.  Any mail that I can consider a valentine when my construction paper mailbox went dry more than twenty years ago is great mail.  Any mail that is a 1950s, German, Mardi Gras-fashion booklet is the best vintage Valentine ever!  Ich liebe meinen antiker Valentinsgruß!!!

"Sei Mein Valentin"

Happy Valentine's Day, you wacky tacky turkey necks!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Post-Mortem Family Photos

I feel so lucky that my parent's home has sort of become the informal repository for a large measure of the family history archives.  Paging through innumerable albums and digging through boxes of letters, greeting cards, documents, and assorted ephemera provides me with an endless amount of well-intentioned time wasting.  It never fails that I brave their garage in order to find some useful tool and instead end up waist-deep in a genealogical avalanche of my own making - ours is less a family tree and more a family quicksand pit.

I find it all fascinating but take particular interest in the photos.  It is wonderful to see pictures of one's grandparents as school children.  It is hilarious to see one's parents as awkward teenagers.  It is in equal measure interesting and unsettling to stumble across a picture of an unknown and distant relative only to realize that he is the genetic explanation for one's crooked teeth and nose.  It is even more disturbing to discover a picture of one's great-great grandfather as he lie peacefully in his coffin with a spray of calla lilies trembling on the verge of their own demise.

Hiya, Gramps!  Not feeling too well, huh?

Even better than the photograph, is the fact that it was turned into a postcard - ostensibly
as a souvenir for the mourning friends and family who were unable to attend the funeral.

Is it better or worse do you think, the obviousness of his condition in this photograph rather than the slightly earlier photos of the Victorian-era bodies lovingly propped up into startlingly-lifelike positions and situations?  "Be damned cholera, this husband and wife loved to recite the works of Shakespeare by lamplight," they seem to say from beyond the grave.  It is all so delightfully ghastly.

I never considered my family particularly macabre but we grew up with several reminders of death around the house, including this little gem.

"At Rest"
This Victorian coffin plaque/casket plate continues to hang on the bath...er, restroom door.
I definitely come by my appreciation for the absurd honestly.

Do you have any family photos of this nature?  Do they spook you or intrigue you?  However you feel about post-mortem photos, we hope that you have a picture-perfect Halloween!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Collecting: Vintage Tablecloths

As our wacky tacky signature t-shirt states, "We dig old stuff" - particularly old stuff that is attractive and has a history of use.  It only makes sense then that I have an affinity for vintage tablecloths.  I love the colors, the prints, and even the spots/stains that chronicle the life of each piece.

We are one of those weird families that views a bare table as an abomination - a missed opportunity if ever there was one; our dining room table is perpetually set for a dinner party that has yet to happen.  We grew up entertaining often but rarely sat down to a formal dinner around the dining table.  That tradition carried with me wherever I moved, including my first, tiny, studio apartment (on the second floor of an 1879 farmhouse).

Not too thrilling or too wacky tacky, but proof that
even when you live alone, it's still a party of four.

As the tablescape changes often, it is nice to have a stock of supplies to give the table a quick wacky tacky makeover.  The quickest way to a brand new table comes from my modest collection of vintage tablecloths.  I am always reticent to post my collections because I lack an expert's knowledge on any subject; I become all kinds of self-conscious knowing that there are people out there with real collections that could easily put mine to shame.  Anxiety aside, here are my tablecloths.

PATRIOTIC

Although they don't subscribe to traditional themes like flags, eagles, and fireworks, the generally-patriotic color scheme of these cloths makes them ideal for use during the Memorial Day, 4th of July, Veteran's Day and pretty much any day in between.

MEXICAN

These border prints probably border on the politically incorrect but I love them.  Living so close to the gateway between our two countries, I'm surprised I haven't found more of these out in the wild.

Orange, brown, and green - a wacky tacky

color combo if ever there was one.

FLORAL

These two are printed on crisp, Irish linen.

Among the floral bouquets, the cloth on the right has a little nest full of robin's eggs.

Can you spot it?

TROPICAL/EXOTIC

These cloths get a lot of use during the summer months.  While it is hard to choose a favorite, this blue and orange, tropical tablecloth that I picked at a shop not too far from the Cabazon Dinosaurs, really makes me happy.  I think my next hypothetical business will be textile design and printing based on vintage examples.

The cactus print on the right has definitely seen better days but I really

 love the washed-out overprinting and brushstroke cactus flowers.

If you've been following us for a while, you
might recognize this one (another favorite).

We used it to set a tiki-style table for our
 Pineapple Upside Down Meatloaf. 

HOLIDAY

It seems Christmas cloths are the hardest to find because they are so collectible (read: expensive).  If you don't know by now, I only buy things on the CHEAP, so it seems my options are limited to the occasional swap meet score or hand-me-down.

The floral number might not be a "Christmas" print but the red and 

green (set off by chartreuse) certainly puts me in the holiday mood.

MISCELLANEOUS

Oh sure, the printed cloths are my favorite but I won't shy away from a hand-embroidered or cross-stitched example of tabletop finery.  It seems weird but I like seeing the blue lines of the iron-transfer pattern behind the stitching; it makes me think of the person threading the embroidery floss through her needle and the hours and hours of work she had ahead of her.  Oh, and how I would never have the patience or attention span to accomplish so time-consuming and labor-intensive.

So how do you dress your table?  Do you collect vintage tablecloths, place settings, or dinnerware?  Are you focused on a certain style?  I am not at all persnickety when it comes to focused collecting or caring too much about certain styles, values, etc.  I just buy what is inexpensive because to borrow a phrase from our pals at My Baby Jo, "A table's gotta have options."

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Losing Your Marbles

I realize that the title of this post is a terribly-insensitive way to begin a discussion of Alzheimer's Disease.  But, as I've mentioned before, I make a conscientious effort to maintain a tone of silliness above all else on this blog.  After rummaging through a box of family photos and finding this picture of a three-year-old Mr. Tiny (give or take) and his grandfather, I determined that the subject had to be broached somehow.  In my family, we definitely deal in laughter; very little is sacred, even when it comes to a devastating illness.  Plus, the marbles will become a salient point in very short order. 

Mr. Tiny & Grandpa Bob

Beyond the horror that all good looks can obviously be bred out of a family in just two generations, I was struck at how vital my grandpa was in this photo - tanned, toned, well-coiffed.  The son of Yugoslavian immigrants, who arrived in the US as indentured servants, my grandpa was raised in Canton, OH.  His mother died when he was a toddler leaving his eldest sister to raise the rest of the children.  Married to his childhood sweetheart for 47 years, he was the generous father of three loving sons and the doting grandfather to seven grandchildren.  In the days of the "Company Man," my grandfather was loyal to the United Parcel Service and retired after decades of much-commended service.  He was an impeccably-sharp dresser and had style to spare; ladies on his route referred to him as the "Silver Fox."  He loved spending time with my siblings and me and always found ways to treat us.  I never attended a school where a small carton of milk was more than fifty cents but he would often stop by our house in his big, brown, UPS truck to palm me a five dollar bill for "milk money."  

When I was still quite young, his memory began playing tricks on him and his behavior became increasingly unpredictable.  Eventually, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease.  The last few years of his life were pretty difficult, but the legacy he left of hard work, dedication, generosity, love, and a wicked sense of humor, allowed my grandmother, my dad, his brothers, and our entire family to manage our grief.  He passed when I was fifteen years old and lo, these many years later, we continue to discuss him daily. 

Leona & Bob on their wedding day, 1949.

Out from the same box which I plucked the photo, I discovered a Ziploc baggie labeled "Dad's marble championship 1st Place award when he was 11 years old."  I knew my grandfather was an Ohio State Marble Champion but I had never seen an actual medal.  

I was thrilled to see the blue ribbon holding the cast-metal medal.  I was touched because the note on the bag was written in my own father's hand (he is a poet of the highest order who doesn't have the option to write anymore).  Inspired by my father and his father before him, I decided to reflect on the legacy created by these two men.  I know it is silly and self-indulgent to write a poem but I am a silly, self-indulgent type, so I wrote a poem.  After all, what's more wacky tacky than a poem about a Depression-era, marble champion from Ohio?

In his twelfth year, he was a champ

And won the yearned for prize.

To neighbors, family, schoolyard chums,

A hero in their eyes.

Before the day of tournament

few folks knew his name,

But reputation preceded him -

Marbles was his game.

With one swift flick of steadied thumb

He let the aggie roll.

From all awaiting victors,

Indeed, the spoils he stole.

Right there upon his puff-ed chest

they pinned the ribbon blue.

No baseball star nor boxing great  

Such royal treatment knew.

The medal was a source of pride;

He had the chance to crow it.

But knowing what goeth before the fall,

Of course, he'd never show it.

And so through life he wore the badge

If not in act, then spirit.

He still knew the loud "Hurrahs!"

Even if others couldn't hear it.

Wedding bells and three young boys

muffled childhood bliss.

The marbles found a dusty shelf

On which to reminisce.

Still, the medal's grandeur shone  

throughout all his born days.

A gentle calm and dignity

characterized his humble ways.

But life is fickle, that's well known,

Not always a game-winning roll.

Still young by any measure,

Age and illness took their toll

Forgetting now the names of friends,

And times, and dates, and places,  

He'd never forget the reverent look

Upon his children's faces.

They knew the man who was inside.

They saw through present foibles.

They knew the joy of that Spring day,

Before he lost his marbles.

I treasure the jar of marbles that belonged to my award-winning grandpa (in storage, otherwise they'd be shown here).  I am honored to hold the ribbon that I know was more to him than a just a prize for playing marbles; it was validation given to young boy of modest heritage that life is good.  That little medal set the trajectory for a successful life full of victories - perhaps none so great as Ohio State Marble Champion of 1939!

Alzheimer's is one of many terrible diseases for which I hope a cure will be found - not only because of the genetic implications (it runs on both sides of our family).  For more information on prevention and care, please visit alz.org.

"Marian the Librarian" from The Music Man

Because he talks about marbles and this was

 a favorite of both my dad and grandpa.

Do you have a family heirloom that inspires you?  One that tells the wacky tacky chapter of your own family's history?  Let us know!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny