Dating johnson brothers rose chintz
(The smile suggests how much Art, or at any rate Air France, improves on Life, or at any rate on Paris policemen.)My younger brother and I called the policeman Pierre, and he kept watch over our room, which also had Beatle posters and a blindingly, numbingly, excruciatingly bright red shag rug.
(I had been allowed to choose the color from a choice of swatches, but I have an inability to generalize and have always made bad, over-bright guesses on curtains and carpets and, as it turned out, the shape of future events.) Although we had never gone anywhere interesting but New York, my older sister had already, on the basis of deep, illicit late-night reading of Jane Austen and Mary Poppins, claimed London, and I had been given Paris, partly as a consolation prize, partly because it interested me.
A scowling gray universe relieved by pastry: This was my first impression of Paris, and of them all, it was not the farthest from the truth.
Sometime in the mid-sixties my mother, who has a flair for the odd, ready-made present, found I suppose in an Air France office in Philadelphiaa life-size cardboard three-dimensional cutout ofa Parisian policeman.
He had on a blue uniform and red kepi and blue cape, and he wore a handlebar mustache and a smile.
Everybody else in the crowd of thirteen or so people on the platform,mostly moms and dads and kids, are running around and making conversation and comforting children and buying tickets for the next trip and doing all the things people still do on station platforms in Paris.
The device on the ticket window, like the title of the cartoon, reads: "A Railroad: From Paris to the Moon."The cartoon is, in part, a satire on the stock market of the time and on railway share manipulations.