If I had stuck to my guns when I was 5 years old, I would be a bona-fide paleontologist by now. I’m pretty sure at one point as a little one I may have had the nickname “Danasaur” (no, not because I was oversized and awkward!) Anyway I’ll need a childhood friend to confirm that… but I was very much obsessed, from my 24-volume dinosaur library to my Dino-Riders lunch box right down to my Denver the Last Dinosaur VHS catalog. I’d take it any way I could get it. Triassic, Cretaceous, Jurassic, dinosaurs making lives for themselves in the future… you name it. When and why did I grow out of it?
Meanwhile I’m really into these dino drawings from 1930, from the LIFE Photo Archives. They lend themselves well my my daydreaming about khaki clad excursions in the mountains of Montana and in the plains of the Dakotas. Rickety old jeeps, canvas tents. For the record I also have a long braid in these daydreams, and somehow make hiking boots look very elegant.
(I love the voracity of the little jumpy guy and the nonchalance of the Brontosaurus. Can’t place the little jumpy guy…)
(little jumpy guy is making friends, we see. I guess he’s confused: am I an herbivore or a carnivore? Maybe he was an early-mover on the omnivore scene.)
(Diplodocus hanging out with a cave man. Good times, great oldies.)
Fast forward, it’s about high time I got myself back to the Natch…