Showing posts with label WWII. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WWII. Show all posts

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Good Toys for Children

Readers, the hot toy this Christmas as you know is the Zhu Zhu Pet.

The Zhu Zhu Pet ($15-$41 on Amazon) is a motorized wheeled hamster (guinea pig size). It runs on 2 AAA batteries. It makes different noises when you touch it in 3 different areas. It can run around on the floor.

The Zhu Zhu Pet is not much fun, however, without its Habitrail-like home, which comes in various sections, all sold separately and all made of injection-molded plastic. There's the "funhouse" ($43), the ramp and slide ($32), the hamster wheel ($40), the garage ($25), starter set ($34), bed ($13), surfboard and sleep dome ($30), skateboard and U-turn ($25), the carrier, bed & 2 blankets set ($28), hamster wheels & tunnels set ($63), or deluxe playset ($197). If you buy all of the components listed above it will cost you $530. That's not counting buying the actual toy.

The sections without the toy, or the toy without its 2 AAA batteries, cannot be used for other purposes. You cannot paint a picture with them. Nor could you build a tower, working windmill, or working drawbridge. You could not use one to scoot down to the Dairy Queen, or build a castle on a rainy day. Nor could you use one to round up some pals and play a game of football, badminton, or croquet. You could not use one to plot your next chess move, or haul your baby brother. Nor could you sew a usable object to keep or give as a gift.

Nor would you own a durable object made of leather, wood, cloth, or metal, like a baseball glove or a cloth doll, to eventually end up, battered and worn, in the trunk in the attic. Only to be taken back out 50 years later by a now-wrinkled hand, for a moment of bittersweet nostalgia.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Save Wires for War!

Kind readers, if you were thinking of calling your gramma in Florida over Thanksgiving, or your cousin in California, please--don't.

Those phone lines are required for urgent war-related business. Don't imperil that business by making a social call over the holiday.

Please make only the most urgent Long Distance calls on Thanksgiving Day, and keep those calls as brief as possible.

Dusty D found this ad while researching a Thanksgiving story to turn in to the Courier tomorrow.

Note that it is Michigan Bell that is telling its own customers to NOT use its service--in contrast to today's phone service providers, who, to some, seem intent on determinedly extracting an inordinate amount of money from one's pocket.

Perhaps Michigan Bell's ad was made in a spirit of patriotism. Or, more cynically, perhaps they knew their lines were at the maximum load already with wartime work and they didn't want to deal with thousands of irate civilian customers unable to put calls through MB's over-stressed system.

Around this time, another rationed item was coffee. Coffee was going to be officially rationed a few days after this November '42 ad. If you were caught hoarding it, which translated to buying more than 1 pound before the ration went into effect, you could be fined $10,000 or sentenced to ten years in prison.

The war was real and loomed large in the lives of Ypsilantians, when today, to many of those without a service member in the family, the war is at best just a glimpsed headline to an unread story.

--Ypsilanti Daily Press, November 24, 1942

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Call for Help: Eileen Harrison, Recently Profiled on AnnArbor.com, is 107 Years Old and Living in Ypsilanti!

Kind readers may remember that on Wednesday I wrote about the contents of Eileen Harrison's WWII ration book for AnnArbor.com.

Turns out, says a friend, she's still allegedly alive. 107 years old.

At age 107, she is still living somewhere in Ypsilanti. Dusty D searched and searched for her phone number, to respectfully ask Ms. Harrison if she might be amenable to an oral history, if that would not tire or inconvenience her.

I can't find any information anywhere--not even with the mighty Zabasearch. Not gonna go with any of those online fee-for-info sites either, as I ditched my stupid AMEX after getting ripped off. So. An impasse.

Ypsilanti is a small town. And time, needless to say, is of the essence. Kind readers, does anyone know how to reach Ms. Harrison? Please don't post any personal information about her here, needless to say, but if you would be so kind as to connect me, privately via email to ypsidixit@gmail.com, to her phone # or to an intermediate person or family member who has contact with her, I would be EXTREMELY grateful.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Peek Inside an Ypsilantian's WWII Ration Book

Many families are "rationing" luxuries and treats--even some staples--today. Back in WWII it was mandated. Take an image-rich peek at the contents of Eileen Harrison's ration-book purse and see what she carried around town in 1942 just to do her shopping!

Here's the story; enjoy!

Monday, May 25, 2009

When Patriotism Was Tied to Rubber Baby Pants

What began as a well-intentioned post about the 1942 Ypsi scrap rubber drive, in honor of Memorial Day, devolved into a conversation with my husband about rubber baby pants.

DDH: "I didn't know rubber could be reclaimed, or melted down, or whatever."
DD: "I didn't either--but they were recycling EVERYTHING--even the little ring of rubber around the top of canning jar lids! Just that little ring! One kid swiped his dad's spare tire and turned it in."

DDH: "Ah. I'm sure the dad was thrilled by his son's patriotism."
DD: "Yeah...and you couldn't get new tires then, either. They were getting a penny a pound for scrap rubber."
DDH: "So...OK,...but tires were thinner then..."

(Geeks to the core, DD and DDH carefully calculate the scrap-rubber value of a 1942 tire and estimate it to be around 15 cents).

DD: "They were also collecting something called 'rubber baby pants'. That sounds like a singularly...uncomfortable piece of clothing."
DDH: "Yeeaahhh...rubber baby pants? So...the idea is you just...like, bag it up in there?"
DD: "I guess...gross! Then when you have to take them off---

(several icky scatological speculations deleted by editor, eeuuuww.)

DDH: "It's like those rubber-pants bikers in (a city somewhere vaguely to the west of Ypsilanti)--those self-important dweebs with all the logos and stuff on their rubber pants."
DD: "Yeah...they're full of [AAOOOOGAH!] too."