Today marks the 131st anniversary of the birth of AA Milne, creator of the Winnie the Pooh characters. I grew up poring over a small but prized collection (which I still have in storage somewhere) of both the Pooh stories and his volumes of poetry making friends with beetles named Alexander, feeling very sorry for poor King John, dreaming of a visit to Buckingham Palace and of course, bonding with Christopher Robin and Pooh Bear.
I fell in love with Ernest Shepard's deceptively simple sketchy pencil illustrations and played games of Pooh sticks every time I came to a bridge or gutter filled with water.
This might be a bit blasphemous but I love the Disney incarnations almost as much as the originals. The first animated episode so brilliantly incorporated the book format; Pooh climbing through the paragraphs, the letters washing away in the rain, the narrator interacting with the characters. Amazing stuff.
A year or so ago when I was in NYC I made a trip to the public library where the stuffed animals that were the inspiration are now housed. And it was an experience I won't forget, taking me back to my childhood in an instant, yet looking at their worn and shabby appearances made me feel older than my years.
Happy birthday to a literary genius and the shaper of many a childhood.
Let's finish things off with a clip of the catchy theme song to get stuck in your head. You're welcome.
I have lost two cherished icons in the space of a week.
Last Friday the world lost the last half of the husband-wife team that created the much-loved Berenstain Bears books. Jan passed away after having suffered a stroke at the age of 88. (Her husband Stan passed away in 2005.) I don't know of anyone who hasn't grown up reading their books, whether as a parent to their child or as a child themselves. Probably best known for their tales with a moral, they've dealt with everything from sibling rivalry to too much junk food, stranger danger and even religion. Their books have taken a bit of turn towards the schmalz as of late, but their early stuff is priceless, with their beginning readers the best of the best.
Many a night I would beg for another reading of The Spooky Old Tree (still one of my favorite reads!), inducing the juiciest of chills followed up by a nice, warm happy ending, perfect for even the youngest of readers. *Warning* It's a gateway book for harder stuff. I blame it entirely for my late elementary school fascination with the likes of Agatha Christie and Edgar Allan Poe!
And I probably could still recite to you the entire text of Inside, Outside, Upside-Down and The B Book...they're very Seuss-esque, which is appropriate as he helped get them started in the publishing world.
The world is a much sadder and duller place for their loss.
Go here, to see a complete listing of their books, to play some fun games, and more.
And here to read a great memorial from the Huffington Post.
And then today I was hit with the news that Davy Jones had died after suffering a heart attack. For those of you not familiar with the great silliness that is The Monkees, go here and fix that, right now. Or take a gander at these clips.
(Davy's signature song)
(The opening and closing credits of their TV show)
The Monkees was a musical group created to ride on the wave of the Beatles popularity. They were commissioned to star in the offbeat and sometimes ridiculous tv series where they often bumblingly solved mysteries ala Scooby Doo while meeting pretty girls and occasionally breaking into song. Their songs were released on records and they even went on tour. They were goofy and quirky and really not all that talented, but they were charming and so completely likeable that they were a huge success for several years.
As all the best things do, they came back into fashion many years later. In the 80s MTV and a few other stations began showing the reruns and a whole new generation fell in love. My mom happened to have nearly all of their records and so I inherited them along with a mad passionate crush on the token Brit (they had to have a cute guy with an accent if they were going to feed off the Beatles frenzy), Mr. Davy Jones.
Oh, he was so cute! He was my first celeb crush and I was devestated when my mom finally pointed out that he was older in real life than she was (reality can be tough on a 4th grader) but I've never lost my soft spot for him, nor my love for the Monkees in general. (I can still do a few of the interpretive dances my cousin and I worked up to some of their songs when the occasion calls for it ...the 'occasion' being any time one of the songs come on my ipod during shuffle mode!)
RIP my friends, you carry a bit of my childhood with you to your graves. Guard it well.
*Disclaimer--
I'm beginning to feel as if I ought to change the 'happiness' tag on my blog. Sorry about all the downer posts lately. I'll try to do better, I promise!
Josephine-Katherine Smith, otherwise known as Cinderella due to her penchant for constantly losing her shoes, is preparing to embark on a new school year full of new adventures. Her neighbor, Charlie Prince, is in the same class and luckily so are all her old friends.But maybe it isn’t so lucky after all.The girls seem to have grown up overnight and left Cinderella behind.Cinderella finds herself being mocked for not having her ears pierced (her mother insists she’s not old enough) and for holding her father’s hand as they walk to school (it’s tradition!) And a kerfuffle in class regarding her name sends them all over the edge.
With hurt feelings, Cinderella ventures into the cafeteria to find that the last seat at the table is now being saved for the new girl, Erin. But Erin surprises them all by choosing to sit with Cinderella. She’s convinced that Cinderella will be able to help her with her problem; the new step-sisters she will acquire when her mom gets married in a few months. She hasn’t met them yet but she’s sure they will be wicked and she doesn't know what to do about it. Cinderella confesses she doesn’t know anything about step-sisters but she is good at giving advice and will do everything she can to help.
The girls become fast friends and help each other navigate all the crazy changes in their lives including the upcoming wedding, Halloween costume craziness, and the mystery of Cinderella’s lost red tap shoe which she needs in order to secure her place as the Pumpkin Blossom Fairy in the autumn dance recital.
Cinderella is a charming character, not quite as spunky or trouble prone as Clementine or Ramona but along the same lines. She’s got a great realistic voice and is constantly throwing out catchy phrases and sighing “Alas” in an exasperated way. And Goode’s black-and-white sketches sprinkled throughout add to the light, comical tone. This is a fun early reader perfect for girls who are just reaching that ‘catty/mean-girl’ stage, reminding them to stay true to themselves and accept everyone quirks and all (it makes life much more interesting and pleasant for all involved!)
I think I would have loved this when I was a kid. I devoured all of the Ramona books and then branched into the Baby-sitters Club and such. I was not a fantasy reader when I was little. I had no patience for magic, much preferring the dramas of 'reality' to the vast and grand battles between good and evil. As an adult I will read just about anything but my return to children's literature was sparked by all of the great fairy tale re-tellings and fantasies out there. (I even wrote my master's paper on the importance of fantasy literature!) So, my childhood tastes did not necessarily foreshadow those of my adulthood. I'm even glad Harry Potter didn't arrive on the scene until I was an adult because I honestly don't think I would have enjoyed them at all. So, I pose to you, dear readers, a series of questions. What were some of your favorite books as a child? Were any of them instrumental in shaping your future reading choices? What books have you read as an adult that you wish you could go back in time to put in the hands of your younger (child/teen) self? I'd love to hear from you!
Last night I went with a group of friends to go ice skating. It was about 20 degrees out and the wind was gusting...basically it was COLD! We'd bundled up (I personally had on at least 3 layers) and set out for downtown DC. The National Gallery has an outdoor sculpture garden with a fountain where they have jazz concerts and things in the summer, but when the cold weather comes they ice it over, light it up and send us all back in time.
It could have been the mittens or the fact that my roommate and I skipped half way there to try and keep warm, but stepping hesitantly onto the ice I felt the years (and my feet) slipping away. My church youth group would take us skating nearly every winter and I took many outings to the rink with family and friends growing up. You'd think with all that practice I'd be a pretty decent skater. Not so! :) But part of the magic comes in stumbling and sliding and wobbling like a new colt on spindly legs. Being a bit hesitant and on unfamiliar ground is one of the surest ways to make you feel like a kid again, when so much of the world was foreign and bigger than you. But just as powerful is the joy and giddiness you feel as you zip around that oval with the wind (no matter how frigid) whipping your hair out behind you and the taste of flying without leaving the ground.
And even better is the nice cup of hot cocoa and the fuzzy blankets waiting for you when you get home! Reader, how did you spend you weekend? Were there moments of bliss and childlike wonder? If not, you still have Sunday to find some. Good luck!
