The ads about this boy confused me-I was never quite clear about where the boy was supposed to be from and what sort of life he was supposed to be living. And one more puzzling thing, to do with language and the important mysteries of advertising: Even then, when my American English was an unreliable, uncertain, crude instrument for the apprehension of things, even then I wondered about the prudence of naming a store something as hokey as “Buster Brown.” There was a boy attached to this name, a boy after whom the store was named. I liked those things for all that they made uneasy-I mean the almost kinky consanguinity of the brilliance of the latest technology, all lit up, as it were, mixed with the tawdriness of the back of the store. The back of the Buster Brown store appeared distinctly shabby-you could see the storage area, which didn’t have a carpet there were little bits of crepe paper and tags and such lying around and dust. I was ardently devoted to mastering all this so I could claim my destiny as an American boy. The objects of my devotion included Campbell’s baked beans, Superman, Roy Rogers, cap guns, baseball gloves, Spalding balls, Levis, the Shadow, Bazooka gum, peanut butter, Coke, Chevys, Louis Armstrong, Dinah Shore, Milton Berle, Jerry Lewis, Sid Caesar, Imogen Coca, the Pledge of Allegiance (at that moment, still godless but about to become a pious weapon in the war against godless Communism). Who knows how this should have been done: I experienced it as being akin to what’s expected of a devotee. It was the weirdest object of study among the welter of things that I, having just got off the boat, wanted so badly to see and feel and value the way any American kid would. I loved, feared, and felt altogether gaga about that contraption. At the base of this tall box was an opening where you stuck your feet while wearing strangely stiff, not-yet-purchased shoes the top of the box enclosed a rectangular viewer through which you looked down at-this was the magical part-an X-ray of your feet darkly outlined in their casing of new shoes! It was a kind of out-of-body experience, before I knew there were such things, and one blessed by science: a scientific measure to ensure that your brand-new shoes fit perfectly. The most wonderful thing in that store was a magical contraption kept in the rear against the back wall, a tall wooden box resembling an elongated cardboard carton or a miniature coffin. THIS IS A DOWNLOADABLE EBOOK AVAILABLE INSTANTLY.On 207th Street, way uptown in Manhattan, a couple of blocks north of the elevated subway, there used to be a Buster Brown shoe store. Many of the songs featured also include links to the Mama Lisa website, where you can find recordings, videos and sheet music. The memories of childhood touch us forever! What makes the book really special is the many comments from Mama Lisa’s correspondents who have shared stories and memories from their own lives. The songs are given in the original languages and with English translations. ![]() The second part presents beloved traditions and songs from many different nations. The history and meaning of these holidays is discussed, often with examples of traditional songs. The first part of the book covers some of the traditions that take place on days other than Christmas itself, like St. So Christmas is celebrated like a giant outdoor block party! How in Colombia, in the Southern Hemisphere, it’s usually warm in December.That’s a fun way to get children to help with the post-holiday clean-up! ![]() How Scandinavians mark the end of the season by “plundering” the Christmas Tree on St.How in Italy it’s not Santa Claus who gives gifts to all the children.Mama Lisa’s Christmas Around The World is a celebration of the diversity and love with which many different cultures mark this joyful time of year. People everywhere love Christmas – but we don’t all celebrate it the same way.
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