Ah, 1965. Overhead projectors and horn-rimmed (NOT “horn rim”) glasses graced every classroom. And even then, the rims were not made of actual horn or tortoiseshell, but of plastic. All the better to see you with, my dear.
Some technology was old-school, like this microscope being used by a lad with a healthy head of Elvisian locks.
But new advancements had been made for this first year of German language lab. Bonus points if you can tell me what all those little chess-piece-looking things are.
Corded phones were still the only choice for office secretaries.
And there was this thing for numbers. Watch those bangs, sister.
Home Ec was called “industrial arts” at this particular high school.
While what we term regular “art” was still funded and practiced. Swell job, Peg!
Shop was called “Distributive Education.”
This was called “horseplay” and not cause for litigation.
Flirting was alive and well.
And teen silliness prevailed at the Junior-Senior Dance. What a lovely pair!
Now if I could only remember my locker combination…
Without my readers (not YOU GUYS–my specs), the blurry name above suggests bad-a$$ longhorns, the mascot of my alma mater. But using my prescription readers, I can sound it out as it should be. Bal-das-SA-reh. Say it with your fingers pinched together like an Italian (but say “eye-talian” because it’s more fun). Today, we learn about the funny-named Venetian architect, Baldassare Longhena.
Bald bottoms aside, Baldassare is actually Italian for Balthazar. And Longhena certainly wasn’t the first famous Balthazar. Despite the fact that the Gospel of Matthew nowhere names the Magi (or even says there were three), tradition suggests that “we three kings of Orient are” answered to Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. The latter is referred to as the King of Arabia and the one who offered the ever-questionable myrrh, a resin which most of us have lived our lives without. Here he is depicted mid-offer.
That little red Fiat 500 was a first-year Model A (produced from 1936 to 1948), the smallest car in the world at the time. Italians (like those in this shot in Rome’s Mussolini Stadium) dubbed the midget coupe Topolino (“little mouse” in Italian).
Topolino was also the name of this very famous mouse. Yep, that’s their name for Mickey.
But evidently, cartoons didn’t set well with Fascists back when that photo was taken. Per theguardian.com, “Comics were seen as a vehicle for the values of the Anglo-Saxon democracies … and Mickey Mouse was the last of the American cartoon heroes to be banned because he was a particular favourite with Mussolini’s children; they were among the very few Italians who were able to defy their father with impunity.”
The controlling craziness went so far as to forbid use of “speech balloons” in any comics at all. Who knew the life of a Fascist cartoonist was so hard?
For your further edification, according to hellogiggles.com, Donald Duck goes by “Paolino Paperino” (not pepperoni), Daisy Duck by “Paperina,” and Goofy is “Pippo,” yet for some reason Pluto is still Pluto and Minnie still Minni (close enough).