It’s turtles all the way down.
Mini-Europe is a series of big ideas inspired by a tiny theme park.
We’re all turtles in different clothes.
Upon entering Mini-Europe, a turtle embraced me. The turtle itself was mute, but its companion, a young man with a camera, asked on its behalf, first in French, then in English, if I’d please pose with the turtle. An orange ambassador welcoming me into the “we” of Europe. Handshake. Sidehug.
A mascot “represents” a group: a school, a sports team, a society, but how does one represent the entirety of a continent? Best solution so far: a person in a turtle costume.
My brief affair de cœur with sport and mascots peaked somewhere between the ages of 11 and 14. Many settle for the closest geographically. I preferred to shop around. Which ‘we’ was most me?
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I was represented by a professional sports team based in San Francisco who took their name from a wave of capitalists who moved cross country in 1849 in pursuit of buried treasure.
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I let the Toronto Raptors represent me because I liked Jurassic Park.
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A professional sports team based in Atlanta represented me, named for male warriors of Native American tribes, their calligraphy underscored by a cartoony hatchet. I chose them because I didn’t want my father’s local sports team to represent me, and the Atlanta team was the only other team regularly broadcast by my central Pennsylvania cable provider.
Over two thousand teams in the US use Native Americans as their mascots, their representatives, the Washington Redskins being the most infamous, originally named by a former coach, William Dietz, who claimed to be Native American, but lied about this heritage to avoid a military draft. His parents were both German American.
Interviewer: “What is a Redskin?” Redskins owner Dan Snyder: “A Redskin is a football player. A Redskin is our fans.” His reason for not changing the mascot: “Tradition.”
The turtle is the undisputed star of the Mini-Europe booklet. Along with photographs, fun facts, and descriptions of the reduced-size monuments, the booklet boasts color illustrations of the turtle sporting various stereotypical nationalistic props and outfits, one for each every country.
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Germany: Turtle in Mozart wig plays candlelight piano.
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Spain: Turtle with castanets.
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Greece: Turtle with laurels.
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Turtle in angel costume on plinth.
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Turtle in overalls and ascot frightened by cuckoo clock.
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Turtle in beret and apron clutching eight bottles of wine.
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Turtle dressed as Tintin playing pocket pool in front of castle.
Swapping national identity simple as a costume change.
My Catholic high school’s mascot: the Crusaders. One could argue all ‘our’ away games at neighboring public high schools were watered-down reenactments of the Middle Ages, boys in gold helmets called upon to reenact the slaughter, securing passage to heaven by scoring more points.
I watched clips of “The 20 Funniest Mascot Fights Ever,” a countdown of costumed characters brawling mid-court, mid-field, tackling, punching, tossing each other over railings.
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Chicken vs Dinosaur
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Chicken vs Beaver
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Wolf vs Dinosaur
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Elephant vs Beaver
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Ancient Greek Spartan vs Jaguar
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Ancient Greek Spartan vs Badger
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Alligator vs Kangaroo
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Suburb vs Suburb
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Private vs Public
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Racial Stereotype vs Racial Stereotype
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Woodchuck vs A Thing with a Baseball for a Head
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A Thing that Looks like Elmo with Dreadlocks vs Another Sesame Street-looking Thing
Racial Stereotype 1 elbow-drops Racial Stereotype 2, Racial Stereotype 1 punches Racial Stereotype 2, thousands of ‘Racial Stereotypes’ in the stands laughing, Racial Stereotype 1 punches Racial Stereotype 2, ‘Racial Stereotype 1’ cheerleaders pry Racial Stereotype 1 off Racial Stereotype 2, a few ‘Racial Stereotypes’ boo, louder, a whole stadium of ‘Racial Stereotypes’ booing, Racial Stereotype 2 unmoving on the grass.
Turtles in different clothes.
Due to the increasing volume of bad press, Snyder hired a crisis management firm to build the website ‘Redskin Facts,’ with testimonials from Native Americans saying they don’t mind. Snyder: “We live in the present, and from that standpoint what we really feel and understand is the name [Redskin] represents pride. It represents honor. It represents respect.”
My first year of undergrad, what represented me changed. The previous mascot, ‘Flying Dutchmen,’ a nod to the school’s Dutch immigrant founders, was vetoed in favor of ‘Pride.’ The Hofstra Pride. The school intended the word to refer to a pride “of lions.” When lions gather en masse, they’re referred to as a pride. Yet, the word also happens to be the abstract noun most associated with queer rights, with the shedding of the need to hide one’s sexuality. Pride could also be the equivalent of calling the team “School Spirit,” or “The Feeling Felt by the People in the Stands.” If one ignored the doofy lions, the mascot wasn’t an animal symbolizing pride, but pride itself.
When I returned from Mini-Europe and showed Ben my photo with the mascot, he almost spit beer on it. He laughed and pointed at me with his cigarette then took the photo in his hand, his brow narrow in study and wondered aloud, “Why a turtle?”
The origin of the phrase “turtles all the way down” stems from a 19th century science lecture, maybe given by William James, possibly Bertrand Russell, or sometimes attributed to simply ‘a scientist.’ I’ll paraphrase: The scientist speaks at length about the spherical world and its relation to the cosmos, etc, when an audience member, often depicted as a ‘little old lady,’ stands and interrupts: ‘But we all know the mini-world is flat and rests on the back of a giant turtle.’ The unfazed scientist replies, ‘Then what does the turtle stand on?’ ‘Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ says the woman. ‘It’s turtles all the way down!’
