The most popular children’s book comic character in Switzerland saw the light of day 90 years ago. The celebration of the day leads to a cemetery. And there it seems to us, we heard his voice.
Yes, that’s Globi, very unmistakable. But does he rest in this family grave?
Long live, dear readers, the well-rhymed creativity! No Please not. Allow me to speak without verse for once. Basically, I like rhymes, but in the decades of my earthly existence I’ve been asked to do a lot of them, and some of them were very bumpy. So I need a break from them now and continue in prose.
Wednesday, August 24, 2022: it’s my 90th birthday, that’s what they say. Around noon, around a dozen people gather at the Enzenbühl cemetery in Zurich in front of the family grave no. 81043. Is that, in the shade of a birch, my final resting place? Who knows. Anyway, I’m pictured in color on the tombstone, as a friend of the children, a boy on one hand, a girl on the other, and a dog is dancing in front of me. But on the stone is the name Robert Lips, born in 1912, died in 1975. When I was almost twenty years old as an architecture student, he conceived me with a drawing pencil and later immortalized me thousands of times on paper.
Just don’t get aggressive
I saw the light of day in 1932 as an advertising character for the 25th anniversary of the department store of almost the same name. I soon emancipated myself from this vile role and became a Houdini of popular culture altogether. Decades ago, some circles would have preferred to gagge and tie me up, and retrospectively put me under acute suspicion of racism, chauvinism and sexism in the 1970s. And in these strange times, when no children’s book is safe from hostilities of all kinds, worse is to be expected every day.
Well, I keep up with the times as best I can. I may have become a bit more elegant over the years, but I’ve kept some rough edges. Woe to those who try to grind them off me completely! Sorry, I shouldn’t be aggressive, I was told.
I feel neither human nor bird, neither man nor woman, but as Globi. My skin is blue, so I don’t need to be beaten into it, my beak is yellow and my heart is a bit sooty. But please don’t engage in identity politics with me, and certainly don’t accuse me of cultural appropriation of a parrot cult. In old age I only want my peace if I haven’t found it long ago in the grave. On this occasion, for the anniversary this Wednesday, my publishing house has summoned up all the draftsmen and copywriters who are still active and who tend to breathe life into me on paper. Even Swiss television is there; Gisela Klinkenberg, who adopted me as a publisher a quarter of a century ago, says warm words about me into his microphones.
A wreath is set up, hung with thank you cards to Globi and his creator, and there is an unusual amount of laughter for a cemetery. I take that as proof of my qualities as a comedian who has always treated his little fans as equals rather than as an authority figure. This is the secret of my rise to become the most successful Swiss children’s book comic character. Well over ten million books sold and more than 700 Globi clubs over the decades bear witness to my popularity. It can be considered unbroken, although my beak hasn’t grown after all the twittering in the social media world.
And the sympathy that comes to me in the nursery rubs off on institutions and people. Even Roger Federer basked in my fame last year, introduced me as a hero of his childhood in the foreword, and in return I dedicated my 92nd adventure to the 102-time tournament winner. The Zurich city police polished their image with me, as did the airport and Swiss television, and the crème de la crème of local cuisine stood in line to be allowed to work in my “Swiss kitchen” in 2014.
Pssst, don’t tell anyone. . .
Year after year, new books are still being published with me, and my birthday was celebrated on Wednesday at Zurich Zoo as well as in the Ziegelhütte restaurant in Schwamendingen, where a large group of people toasted me. And yet the question remains: Have I secretly said goodbye to the afterlife from these politically correct times? Are only doubles sent these days as Globis who perform at events in my honor? And what about this big doll that unknown people placed on the family grave no. 81043 in Enzenbühl? She sits slumped there, seems to be sleeping deeply, very deeply, with her eyes open. . .
Oh, it’s like so many other legends: Neither her birthday nor the day of her death is certain. You don’t need to show these lines to the children or grandchildren, so just between us: Maybe, like almost all heroes of our childhood, I live on between book covers. Well, if I was ever flesh and blood, well, red roses bloom around my loose pants. . . Pardon me, every now and then the rhymes burn away with me, out of sheer habit.