Forever

So, here's a story:

The year 1964 saw the arrival of the World's Fair in Flushing Meadows, Queens. The centerpiece was the Unisphere, the physical manifestation of the theme "Peace through Understanding". The Vatican sent Michelangelo's Pieta for its pavilion; people slid by on a moving sidewalk and viewed it behind glass. Walt Disney debuted It's a Small World at the fair; there was a monorail from AMF and ferris wheel that looked like a giant tire from Uniroyal and picture phones from Bell Telephone. I know; I was there, in wide-eyed wonder and amazement a this optimistic view of a shiny new future. I even got my hands on the souvenir camera, a Kodak instamatic branded with the fair's blue-and-orange logo, that I used a few months later to take pictures at my sister's wedding.

Not the actual camera we had, but one just like it.

But the camera wasn't really my souvenir; my prized takeaway was a dinosaur: specifically, the Sinclair Brontosaurus.

Sinclair Oil had a pavilion at the fair. Their logo was a  brontosaurus, I guess in recognition of the now-debunked idea that petroleum was formed from dead dinosaurs, so naturally their exhibit was the wonderful Dinoland.

After touring the life-size diorama, it was possible, in a miraculous display of modern manufacturing technology, to purchase at Dinoland a model dinosaur, vacuum-formed out of plastic right before your very eyes, in an automated machine with a clear viewing panel so the purchaser (or the purchaser's six-year-old child) could view the entire process - I think for all of twenty-five cents. With all the yearning of an overstimulated young boy, I just had to have one, and my mother relented and dropped the coin the mechanism. I would have my brontosaurus.

Now, although the Sinclair dinosaur logo did not follow the convention, it was the tradition when I was young that a brontosaurus was always depicted in illustrations with neck craned, looking backwards past their tail, usually standing in shallow water and sometimes with half-chewed vegetation dripping out of their mouth. It is an iconic image of my youth. Although lacking in detail, the souvenir dinosaur stuck to this standard.

Not the actual dinosaur I had, but one just like it

I was thrilled when I my still-warm thunder lizard dropped into the chute and played with it immediately and after we got home. Of course, there was one minor issue: even in the world of make-believe, it was hard for me to imagine a dinosaur striding forward majestically but looking backward all the time. It just didn't make sense for the brontosaurus to be interacting with my other toys but constantly looking away. So, perhaps remembering the lingering plasticity of the dinosaur when it came out of the machine, I thought I might, if I worked gently and steadily enough, just twiiiist the head around so it was facing forward.

Of course, cool by then, the neck just snapped, and I was left with a headless dinosaur. Elation crashed to despair, but there was nothing to be done. It's not like we were going back to the fair.

Which brings us to a coincidentally intersecting story:

The Brontosaurus - the Thunder Lizard - was discovered as a fossil and named in 1879, beginning its long reign as a fan favorite dinosaur, regardless of which direction it was looking. However, it was later determined that a dinosaur skeleton discovered in 1877, and called the Apatosaurus - the Deceptive Lizard - was in fact the same animal, and in scientific convention, the earlier name was the official name. Such was the power of  dinomania that the brontosaurus name still held sway for most uses in 1964, but scientific writings and later on even material for children and popular consumption used the "correct" apatosaurus designation. This transition caught the attention and raised the ire of brontosaurus purists, and is one of those touchstone issues that can polarize a room (and don't get me started on whether Pluto is a planet).

The reason for the confusion of the two creatures: the apatosaurus skeleton had no head.

All of which brings us to yesterday. In commemoration of the spectacle of world's fairs, my mother's love, the misguided optimism of youth, and the joy of dinosaurs, here's my latest tattoo:

Thanks, Tarah Pennington at Two Birds Tattoo for this wonderful  depiction of  a multilayered collection of memories and emotions.

Epilogue I:

Apparently I was not the only child who wanted the brontosaurus to be looking forward; a little research revealed that in the second year of the fair, Sinclair had the mold changed:

I might not have busted this one.

Epilogue II:

Ongoing research in the paleontology world has recently re-established Brontosaurus as a distinct genus and species. Vindication! Now, regarding Pluto...

Coda:

The full image: me and Uncle Ernie