Magic Places

First thing to do today is Remember the Alamo.

There’s been a recent uptick in bogus comments here, which I almost always delete, along the lines of (this example, verbatim): Thanks for a marvelous posting! I genuinely enjoyed reading it, you could be a great author. I will be sure to bookmark your blog and will eventually come back later in life. I want to encourage continue your great writing, have a nice day!

The “author” is usually listed as some service- or product-oriented operation, occasionally lewd but more often personal accessories of some kind, with a gmail address. To recall Buck Turgidson, I’m beginning to smell a big, fat AI rat.

I hung up the last 2024 wall calendar the other day, fourth of four in the house. One might think that illustrates my procrastinating ways, since we’ve burned through a sixth of the year already (the crummiest sixth, I should add). But no, I hung an accurate calendar there around New Year’s. The 2018 Metropolitan Water Reclamation District of Greater Chicago calendar.

The year’s different, but so what? The first two months were the same as this year, but that changed on February 29, so I needed another calendar to avoid confusion, a year in which March 1 is a Friday. The most recent leap year to fit the bill (besides this year) would be 1996, but I didn’t seem to have one of those around or, oddly, any other calendar that qualified. No worries, I saw a wad of ’24 calendars at Ollie’s not long ago and picked one of the lot for $4, compared with a list price of $17. Nice discount, and I get 10 months at 40 cents each, instead of 12 months at about $1.40 each. Not much you can buy for 40 cents these days.

It’s a Plato calendar, an imprint of BrownTrout Publishers, which asserts that it is The Calendar Company. I had to look that up: headquartered in El Sugundo, California, BrownTrout published 1,500 unique titles as of 2020, according to the latest press release boilerplate issued by the company (recommendation, put a few newer releases on your site, BrownTrout). The site also says the company is the largest calendar publisher in the world, and it may be so, if that means calendars sold. Or does it mean days put on paper?

The one I bought at Ollie’s is called Magic Places. Handsome Rocky Places might be more like it. Mostly it pictures extraordinary rock features, natural and partly man-made, the kind of flawless and painterly pics you get from this kind of calendar, including sites in Scotland (three), England, Turkey, Greenland, Russia, and more. The likes of the Old Man of Storr, Cappadocia, Machu Picchu and Hegra in Saudi Arabia. One month wasn’t rocky but a monumental tree in Epping Forest in Essex, which I vaguely had heard of, but didn’t really know.

Just shows that Greater London is so vast, not even a month there is enough to hear of everything, especially in the days before the Internet. Once a royal forest, these days Epping is owned by the City of London Corp., even since – this isn’t hard to guess – the Victorian period.

Magic Places is a good-looking trilingual calendar, including Spanish and French as well to cover North America, and it has most of the standard holidays: U.S., Canada and Mexico civic, Christian, Jewish and Muslim, along with those days peculiar to American calendar-making tradition, such as Ground Hog Day, April Fool’s Day and Grandparents Day. There are also Low Countries holidays, which I suppose is a good market for the calendar maker.

It made my day to learn that besides being Cinco de Mayo, May 5 is Bevrijdingsdag in the Netherlands, Liberation Day. A holiday to celebrate ousting Nazis is one we can all get behind.

So That’s Miffy

Another press release that isn’t for me came today. Actually, I get a fair number of those, but in this case I took a look. Its first two paragraphs were as follows:

Miffy, the internationally loved bunny created by Dutch artist Dick Bruna, enters the new season of fashion with an exciting update. Miffy is partnering for the first time with Dumbgood – the legendary pop-culture-inspired clothing brand. The new collection is available at Dumbgood/Miffy for Miffy fans located in the US.

Born of a beloved bedtime story tradition between Bruna and his son, Miffy has been a child-favorite character for 68 years for her positivity, adventurous nature, and innocence. Dumbgood blends 90s-2000s nostalgia and iconic pop culture brands to create apparel collections that feel new and relevant for today’s streetwear customer….

90s-2000s nostalgia? Really? No, let’s leave that aside. When Happy Days premiered 50 years ago this month, it was cast successfully as nostalgia, for no more than 20 years earlier.

I was pretty sure I’d never heard of Miffy, 68 years of positivity notwithstanding (or Dumbgood either, legend notwithstanding). Miffy didn’t happen to be in the mix when I was a child reader, or at any other time. But then I did an image search.

I do know Miffy, by sight anyway. I saw Miffy a lot in Japan. Miffy is very popular there. I showed the pictures to Yuriko, who knew the bunny instantly, and by name.

Somehow I never got around to thinking much about the character I’d seen in Japan, and until today would have assumed – had I simply been shown the pictures – that it was a Japanese character. But no, a Dutch artist created it, perhaps with a keen unconscious notion of what would be big in Japan. Odd the things you learn, even from misdirected press releases.

50 Francs, Luxembourg

In the fourth or fifth grade, a number of us kids were looking at close range at a map of Europe being held up by one of our teachers, and she asked whether we could find Belgium on the map. I’m not sure why she picked that country. Maybe because it wasn’t one of the more famed places that one of us might conceivably know, such as the UK or France or (West) Germany. Maybe she wanted to show us that Europe had other places besides the big countries.

Boom! I pointed my finger right at Belgium. I might have even tapped the map accidentally. I think she was surprised, but she didn’t know my map gazing habits, especially the atlas included with our encyclopaedia set, but also road maps and whatever else we had in the house.

So I knew about the Low Countries. Even more interesting than Belgium, I thought, was Luxembourg. Tiny Luxembourg got to be its own country. How about that. As fascinated as I was with maps in those days, I might not have realized there were even smaller European countries, though of course I learned about them eventually.

In my currency envelope, I have a 50 franc note, long demonetized, from the Grand Duchy, dated 1961.
50 Francs, Luxembourg

It might actually be worth something in mint condition, but it’s worn and slightly torn, especially on the top edge of the note. That’s a sign that it was in one wallet for a long time, or a lot of wallets for a long time, with the note facing upward.

That’s Grand Duchess Charlotte on the obverse. She had a long reign, 1919 to 1964, and an even longer life, 1896 to 1985. Her grandson Henri is grand duke these days.
50 Francs, Luxembourg

The reverse depicts one-quarter of the area of Luxembourg. Just kidding. But it is a pretty small country after all (I wasn’t wrong as a kid), at a shade less than 1,000 square miles. Rhode Island is larger. So is Brewster County, Texas — actually more than six times the size of Luxembourg — as are a lot of other places.

​2½ Guilder Note, 1949

I haven’t found figures on how many 2½ guilder banknotes dated 1949 that De Nederlandsche Bank produced, but it must have been a lot. I know that because, at least as of Sunday, one was for sale on eBay for $1.30, plus 50 cents shipping. A valuable collector’s item, it’s not. Suits me.

The one for sale looks roughly in the same slightly worn condition as the one I have, which is on permanent loan from my mother. It’s a smallish note, 4½ inches by 2⅜ inches. My parents picked it up during their time in Europe in the mid-1950s.

The one to have, at least according to valuations on eBay, is the 1939 Dutch East Indies 25 guilders with Javanese dancers. Someone wants $400 for one of those.

I like the fact that its denomination is ​2½ guilders, not a quantity you see often, though for a long time the United States issued ​2½ dollar gold coins, the Quarter Eagle. Twee en een halvee gulden is also fun to say, though I probably don’t sound Dutch when I do.

If I’ve done my research correctly, a guilder was worth about a U.S. quarter in the mid-50s, valuing this note at 62 cents or so. Not as trifling a sum then as now  — its purchasing power was probably over $5 in current money — but not that much either.

Also of note on the obverse: Uitgegeven krachtens k.b. van 4 Februari 1943 en van 18 Mei 1945. My stab at a translation: issued by virtue of royal decree, February 4, 1943 and May 18, 1945. The Dutch government was in exile in the UK on that first date, including the famously strong-willed Queen Wilhelmina. I know that, anticipating an Allied victory, new Dutch currency was produced starting in 1943. Made in the United States as it happens, as the designs more than hints at.

The 1949 reserve has a Spirographic sort of design.

Queen Juliana appears on the 1949 note, new to the job since her mother abdicated the year before. Juliana was still on some of the coins in circulation when I visited the Netherlands in 1983, though she had abdicated three years earlier in favor of Beatrix, who stayed on as queen until 2014, past the time when guilders ceased to be money. I wonder if the Dutch miss their guilders.

Time for A Time for Gifts

Bitter cold today, and it’s only going to get bitterer. Maybe minus 15 F. by Wednesday, after another round of snow. At times like that, icy little puffs push through the cracks in your house to remind you that the chilly world is indifferent to your fate, you who came from subtropical climes but were headstrong about migrating toward the pole.

My reading material at the turn of the year is A Time for Gifts (1977), in which Patrick Leigh Fermor, who died in 2011 at 96, recounts part of his walk as a very young man from the Hook of Holland to Constantinople in the winter of 1933-34. A remarkable story, well told, and reminds just about everyone else (such as me) that their travels are pallid indeed compared with his.

It features a lot of interesting detail: “I pestered Fritz Spengel, the son of my hosts, with questions about student life: songs, drinking ritual, and above all, duelling, which wasn’t duelling at all of course, but ritual scarification. Those dashing scars were school ties that could never be taken off, the emblem and seal of a ten-years’ cult of the humanities. With a sabre from the wall, Fritz demonstrated the stance and the grip and described how the participants were gauntleted, gorgeted and goggled until every exposed vein and artery, and every inch of irreplaceable tissue, were upholstered from harm… and the blades clashed by numbers until the razor-sharp tips sliced gashes deep enough, tended with rubbed-in salt, to last a lifetime.”

And musings: “The Thirty Years War, the worst of them all, was becoming an obsession with me: a lurid, ruinous, doomed conflict of briefs and dynasties, helpless and hopeless, with principals shifting the whole time, and a constant shuffle and re-deal of the main actors. For, apart from the events – the defenestrations and pitched battles and historic sieges, the slaughter and famine and plague – astrological portents and the rumour of cannibalism and witchcraft flitted about in the shadows. The polyglot captains of the ruffian multi-lingual hosts hold our gaze willy-nilly with their grave eyes and their Velasquez moustaches and populate half the picture galleries in Europe…”

Huis Tem Bosch ’93

We now have a 2015 calendar produced by Nishi-Nippon Railroad Co. Ltd., which I believe Yuriko got for free, and it’s a high-quality bit of work. It’s has a travel theme, and as with a lot of calendars – or magazines or other pictorial works — the photography’s of extreme high quality. Looking at the pictures, you can easily imagine that you’ll never see anything so grand in person, but then again, everything I see with my eyes is higher quality than any photography; it’s just that we’re so used to seeing with our eyes that we don’t appreciate it.

Anyway, the subject is Kyushu – the coast off Nichinan City, plum groves in Kitakyushu, barley fields in Saga Prefecture, Ogi City cherry blossoms and more. It reminds me of how little I saw of Kyushu: mainly Nagasaki and the curious Japanese theme park known as Huis Tem Bosch.

The theme? The Netherlands. Wiki puts it this way, and I can confirm the description, at least as of December 1993 when we went: “The park features many Dutch-style buildings such as hotels, villas, theatres, museums, shops and restaurants, along with canals, windmills, amusement rides, and a park planted in seasonal flowers.”

Parades, too.

HuisTemBosch 1993Since we were there in December, a fellow dressed as Father Christmas posed for pictures with visitors. I guess that would be Sinterklaas. I think he really was a Dutchman, but in any case he was blotto.