The Best Fictional Couples

(I was going to call this “My Favorite Fictional Couples,” but then I realized this went beyond opinion.  This isn’t just my preference.  This is good versus evil.  Seriously.  I’m right about this.  I don’t say that often, but in this case…yeah, I’m right.)

As my daughter moves into the double digits this weekend, I’m bracing myself for the interest in love stories that’s headed our way.  This is how I brace myself.  By thinking back over all the couples I’ve loved and hated over the years and making lists. (As always, always, always these are in no particular order. I am not capable of ranking things.)

Here we go…

Famous Couples That Give Love a Bad Name


They aren’t a great couple, but you should still see the movie because Claire and Leo, obviously.

  • Romeo and Juliet – Could we please not call teenage obsession (“I can’t live without you”) love? This is a fabulous work of literature.  But it’s about hate, not about love.  And as a couple, R and J have nothing but pretty words.  They are everything that is boring about adolescent romance.
  • Mr. Rochester and Jane – Sorry.  I love you, Jane.  But Mr. Rochester is a giant creep.  I mean, I didn’t want you with that weirdo St. John, either.  But you deserve a man of passion who doesn’t play weird mind games with you to find out if you love him. Or, you know, lie about already having a wife.
  • Catherine and Heathcliff – I almost couldn’t make it all the way through Wuthering Heights.  Both of these kids are whiny and melodramatic, not to mention selfish and petty.  People like that deserve a tragic end.
  • Paris and Helen of Troy – Even if you’re an ancient Greek and there are gods involved, you don’t get to start wars over a beautiful face.  It’s just not okay.
  • Anna Karenina and Count Vronsky – I’m terribly sorry for the way they oppressed women then.  Truly.  I know sometimes women were abused and mistreated and had no way out then.  But Anna?  Anna wasn’t.  She just fell in love with someone more interesting.  And then had a flaming affair with him.  That’s not cool.  And just because men did it all the time and got away with it doesn’t make it any more cool.  (And they can pretty much stand for the hordes of adulterers throughout literature.  I don’t care if you did need to break free, Age of Innocence.  It’s not okay to abandon your kids for a childish view of romance.)

Okay, enough of the bad.  Let’s get on to the good.

Couples I Want My Daughter to Read About (Someday)


Don’t even worry about the eminently boring Claudio and Hero, Beatrice and Benedick will steal your heart.

  • Beatrice and Benedick  – If you only ever read one Shakespeare play in your life, it should be Much Ado About Nothing, and B and B are the best part of it.  They are both witty, which makes them both a bit arrogant, and they are both sharp-tongued, which means they each puncture the other’s ego.  So they hate each other.  Until their friends trick them into getting past the ego part.  Then they realize they are perfect for each other.  This is a love that comes straight out of real life (with admittedly better dialogue), and getting to the happily ever after is so much fun.
  • Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy – For once, a couple that deserves their fame.  Pride and Prejudice is all it’s cracked up to be.  Say what you want about Mr. Darcy’s stodgy awkwardness, any couple in which the woman makes fun of the man regularly and he recognizes it as a good thing is awesome.  Especially if he’s all action when she needs it and she’s all apology when it turns out she was being an idiot.  The world needs more men who act and women who admit it when they’re wrong.  Am I right? (I am.  I’m right about this.)
  • Anne and Gilbert – Speaking of women having to admit they were wrong.  Sigh. I mostly just had to include them because they were the first to steal my heart.  They pushed each other to be better and they wanted all the same things in life and they grew up and grew up until they finally figured it out and got married and raised awesome children.  Yeah, that’s where it’s at.
  • Henry and Claire – Oh, The Time Traveler’s Wife.  I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t.  Henry and Claire were all too real, and their life was so abnormal and it was awesome and it sucked, and they were good to each other and they weren’t, but the thing was, in the end, they did it all together and didn’t regret that.  And I was sucked in.  My daughter has to wait a looooong time for this one, but it goes on the list.
  • Eleanor and Park – I don’t particularly like teenage love, but… “Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.”  Yeah. Rainbow Rowell is a genius, and I could give you a million quotes that show how perfectly she captured the helpless feeling that real love give you.  Seriously, it’s beautiful.  Beautiful enough that I’m putting them on this list.  And I didn’t want teenagers on this list.
  • Katniss and Peeta – I know.  I said no teenagers.  But.  The thing is that they had each other’s backs and put each other’s needs before their own long before they recognized that as love.  Plus, they are weak and strong in all the opposite places, and the last book is the absolute best and it ends exactly as it should.  (You can argue if you want, but I’m right about this, too.)  (And if for some reason you haven’t read the whole Hunger Games trilogy, go do so right now.)

That’s it.  That’s all I’ve got.  I perused all my bookshelves and couldn’t find any more couples I actually admire.  But.  Just because I’m right about these (and I am) doesn’t mean there might not be some I’ve overlooked.  What do you say?  Are there any I missed?

 

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Why Hippos Shouldn’t Dance

I know everyone is always saying that you can be anything you want to be, that you can do anything you want to do, and that you should always follow  your dreams.

I have to disagree.

I mean, don’t get me wrong.  You absolutely can be almost anything you want to be, and you can do a lot of what you want to do, and you should definitely follow some of your dreams.

But not if you are an elephant and your dream is to fly.  And not if you are swan who wants to play football.  And absolutely not if you are a hippo who wants to dance ballet.

Because if you are an elephant, the only way I can think of for you to fly is to be shot out of a really, really big catapult, and while it may feel wonderful to soar through the air like that, the whole thing is not going to end well for you as an elephant.  Or for anything you  might land on.

And any swan playing football is really making a terrible, terrible mistake.  As I see it, the best case scenario involves you getting mistaken for the ball and thrown helter-skelter through the air.  The worse case (and far more likely) scenario looks more like you at the bottom of a pile of three-hundred-pound men, where, believe me, your elegant beauty is not shown to best effect.

As for you hippos with dreams of dancing?  Just…don’t.  I’ve seen this one first hand, and it scarred me for life.  The one in my back yard actually looked quite lovely in its tutu, but the second it executed its first pirouette, I knew we were in for disaster.  The hippo spinning out of control and knocking down my apple tree was my first clue.  It attempted a chasse which wiped out the begonias and ended with a ground-shaking grand jete.  That finale might actually have won me over if it weren’t for the horrible yelp which led to the awful discovery that the realization of the hippo’s dancing dream had been the end of my dream of owning a dog.  I’m not sure if I’ll ever recover.  (I know my hound won’t.)

So please, elephants, swans, and hippos all, feel free to dream.  Dream of soaring through the skies.  Dream of touchdowns and tackles.  Dream of plies and barres and Swan Lake and applause.

But maybe there’s no need to make that particular dream come true.

(And if you decide you absolutely must, could you do it somewhere far away from me? Thanks.)

 

 

 

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Storytelling Aids: Fall Felt Board

It’s September, and I’m all Fall, all the time.  This has nothing to do with weather.  It’s just tradition.  Every year when my birthday rolls around, I pull out the leafy decorations and stock up on Pumpkin Spice creamer and tea of every variety.  (I don’t even care that PUMPKIN EVERYTHING is just a trend.  I’m hipster enough to say that I made pumpkin bread before it was cool.)

This year when we opened up the tubs of fall decorations (yes, that is tubs, plural), I was so happy to find my little fall felt board!  Oh yes, let the fun begin.

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Isn’t it adorable?  (And these are only a few of the felt pieces!)  I bought this little guy at Michaels last fall for somewhere around $2.  I distinctly remember my kids spending a good deal of Thanksgiving Break telling each other stories with it.  I can’t wait to hear some more.

Check it out, that cute little pumpkin house that couldn’t get any cuter?  It can also be a pie shop!

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These five friends can have so, so many adventures.

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Felt boards are the best.  We have a much larger one with tons of random felt pieces (everything from farmers to ballerinas) that I’ve picked up at Goodwill and garage sales.  Seriously, you can buy those big new sets, of course.  (This is a cute retro one.)  But if you keep your eyes open, you can also find the pieces all over the place.  And any old piece of felt will do as a background in a pinch.  It doesn’t take anything fancy because there’s just something about all those moveable pieces that makes the imagination flow.  Each piece can be used in so many different ways.

Take this blue squiggly thing, for example.  Yes, I think it is meant to be a river, where our pie-loving friends can go for a refreshing drink.

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But there is no reason why it can’t also sometimes be a terrifying tornado, ready to suck up anyone who doesn’t cling tightly to the fence!

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With so many pieces to choose from, who knows what could happen?

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So look around this fall.  You  never know what storytelling opportunities might be waiting in that dollar bin.  And if you find any cute ones, let the rest of us know.  You can never have too many story boards.

Or too many fall decorations.

 

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Don’t Forget What You Used to Love

Every night after my kids “go to bed” at 8:00, I let them read quietly for an hour or so before real sleeping happens.  My eight- and ten-year-old do a pretty good job with this.  The five-year-old looks at books and makes up not-so-quiet stories about them and then occasionally causes mayhem.  Because that’s us.  We roll with the chaos.  And by “rolling with the chaos” I mean I yell up the stairs that they need to be quiet or reading time is done.  It’s very effective.

Sometimes my son likes to read to his little sister, and even though that obviously isn’t quiet, I encourage this because it’s so great for both of them.  He has introduced her to a lot of his favorite chapter books, and she LOVES the time with him.  Sometimes I even hear him asking her comprehension questions as they go along and then complimenting her listening skills.  They’re adorable little nerdlings.

Where was I?  Oh, last week.

Last week, I heard the boy reading out loud upstairs and didn’t think anything of it.  Like I said, it happens.  It wasn’t until I went up to tell them it was lights out that I saw that my youngest was actually already in bed.  The eight-year-old and the ten-year-old were sitting on my bed, each with a big brown book in hand, taking turns reading their favorite poems out loud.  It was just so wonderful, you guys.  So wonderful that I slowly backed away and gave them an extra fifteen minutes. (And we all know that at bedtime, fifteen minutes is an eternity.)

The books?  Shel Silverstein, of course.  Where the Sidewalk Ends and A Light in the Attic.

I know that you remember these books from your childhood.  I really, really hope you own a copy for your own kids.  If not, please buy them.  Today.

Some very dear friends gave us these two books when our first baby was born.  Over the years, we’ve brought them out from time to time for reading.  There was a while when they were younger that we read one or two poems every night before bed.  The favorites would be requested over and over to the point where I’m pretty sure my kids could still quote you Hungry Mungry verbatim.  Still, we have a big library, and I would say it’s been over a year since we took them off the shelf.  Until last week.  And last week, listening to them read and laugh and point out the pictures and interrupt each other with “Listen to this one!”, I was reminded all over again what a joy they are.

Remember how much you loved this one?  And this one?  And the bear in your Frigidaire?  And that silly old peanut butter sandwich?

I hope you haven’t forgotten.  If you have, it’s not too late to bring them back.  Because you know how poems are supposed to make you feel something?  These ones will make you feel happy.  Guaranteed.

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Where I’m Standing

The air is charged.  It’s hard to breathe.
A living fire drops from the sky at will.
The wind whips by. Hair whirls to the dance.
Power rages on all sides,and only I am still.

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From a distant hilltop, the beauty unfolds.
The sun lights curtains of rain to rosy glow.
A streak of light: thin, fine, alive.
Power echoes faintly as gentle breezes blow.

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THE SECRET SOURCE!!

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I was going to write a whole thing about sending this, my latest baby, out into the world.  I was going to draw all the parallels with my flesh and blood baby starting school.  I was going to really sap it up.  But you know what?  I’m not feeling it.

Maybe it’s because I used up all my introspection on that first day of Kindergarten.  Maybe it’s because it’s my birthday and I’m too full of cake.  Maybe it’s because I’m already hard at work on Book 4, so I’m just really happy that you all can take Book 3 off my hands.

That’s how I feel.  Happy.  So happy.  I’ve been living with this book for a year and I’ve made friends with it and I’m just so dang excited that you all get to meet it now, too.

SO.  Enough talk.  THE LINKS!!

To buy The Secret Source in paperback from Amazon.

To buy The Secret Source from Madison House Publishing.

Buy The Secret Source on e-book.

And (today only) to get The Book of Sight (Book 1) for FREE.

In case you’re wondering what this book is even about…

Alex, Dominic, Adam, Logan, and Eve have finally learned to trust each other, but now they know there is an enemy who wants to destroy them. When they discover a web of stone lying hidden under their small town enabling the enemy to spy on their every move, they know what must be done.

The secrets surrounding the Book of Sight will remain locked until they track down the secret source of the enemy’s power. They’ll never be safe from that power until they find a way to disarm it.

Get yours today!

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Read This Book (In Spite Of The Title)

Don’t be afraid, child
The stories are always there.
Truth rides the wind,
Listen and it will find you.
I will find you.

-The Kiss of Deception by Mary E. Pearson

It’s called The Kiss of Deception.  I know.  Let’s try to get past that, shall we?  Because it’s a really fun read.


I won’t make any crazy claims here.  This is a book of its genre.  It’s young adult fantasy all the way.  Elaborate world building.  Some pretty obvious prophecy.  Lots of romance (but nothing icky or uncomfortably steamy).  I mean, let’s face it, it’s about a princess who runs away from home.  This is not ground-breaking stuff.

Still.  I read the whole thing in a day and a half, and it’s been a while since I was absorbed enough in a book to do that.

This book is fun.  It’s really straight forward, so even though the world (which is pretty clearly far, far, far in the future post-apocalyptic earth) is extensively developed, the fantasy elements don’t get in the way.  The characters are interesting people, with reasonable motivations which are only the tiniest bit contrived in places.  There’s enough of an element of surprise to the plot that you want to keep reading (though to be honest, the main twist in the middle was more jarring than helpful).

It’s  about a girl coming into womanhood while still being more interested in the mysteries she is uncovering than her own self-discovery.  That’s about the highest praise I can give a novel of this genre.  I’ve had enough of teenage angst.  It was nice to read about someone growing through their interaction with the world without endlessly belaboring their own feelings.

In fact, Pearson uses all the elements of this genre, and still manages to avoid most of the traps.  There’s the princess who is so much more than her pretty clothes, but as the world develops around her, you can see that there is a reason for this.  She’s not just a random special snowflake.  There’s a love triangle, but it isn’t really that dramatic.  There’s betrayal, but the plot eliminates the need for lots of hand-wringing about it.  Best of all, the hero and heroine are brought together in the end, but not in the way you expect.  It’s obviously leaving us hanging for the next book, but not in an unsatisfying way.  Just in a “when is she going to release the next dang book” kind of way, which is the best way for a book to make you feel.  The author has some other books out there, and her skill was such that I plan to check them out.

So there you go, my YA-reading friends.  A new book to try.  I promise it won’t make you cringe.  Even if you do want to cover to up the title.

NOTE:  Have I pointed out to you guys that if you ever want to trip over to Amazon and buy any of these books, you can do it through my store tab up there?  Just click the cover of the one you want, and you’ll be supporting me without paying a penny extra.  Thanks!

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Toast

Yesterday I never would have believed it, but today I know it’s true: there are few things in the world more dangerous than making a piece of buttered toast.

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I know.  You’re right.  It sounds ridiculous. But if you’d been in my kitchen this morning, you wouldn’t be rolling your eyes right now.

I was in a hurry, as usual, and a quick piece of buttered toast seemed like the easiest breakfast.  (I was so naive then.)  I should have realized something was wrong the second I opened the bread drawer.  It hadn’t ever made that clicking sound before.

Of course I ignored it.  Did I mention I was in a hurry?  (And so very clueless.)  I grabbed a slice of bread from the bag and retied it, all without even noticing the claw marks on the crust.

I dropped the bread into the toaster and filled a water bottle, while humming under my breath.  (Humming.  I was actually humming without any care in the world.  Idiot.)

When the toaster popped, I pulled the butter tub out of the fridge without looking.  Which meant I never saw what was looking back at me.

I tossed the bread onto a napkin and got out a butter knife, still humming. (Actually humming!)  Then I opened the tub of butter and got my first wake up call.

There was a big bite out of the butter.  Not a swipe of the knife.  Not a divot from a finger.  Not even a lick.  A big bite.  The kind where you can see the mark of each tooth.

Each large, pointed tooth.

I may have screamed.  I don’t really remember.  I may have jumped back.  I definitely dropped the butter knife on my toe.

For about ten seconds nothing happened.

Then a rumble from the fridge collided with a click from the bread drawer.

I may have screamed again.  It’s all a bit blurry.  I definitely jumped back and hit my head on the kitchen cabinet.

I know this because I was still seeing stars and trying to decide if I should call my neighbor or the police or the doctor or an exterminator when the refrigerator door burst open and the..thing…leaped straight toward me.

I definitely screamed.

It landed on the floor by my feet, too horrible for words.  I got a quick glimpse of green and orange eyes and teeth that were…no I really I can’t talk about it.  But before I could die of a heart attack,  the bread drawer flew open and this….arm…reached up and grabbed the toast off the counter and quickly disappeared.  The…whatever it was…from the fridge leaped toward the drawer and disappeared inside, taking the tub of butter with it.  The drawer slammed shut, and everything was quiet.

I’m not sure how long I stood there unable to move.  I may have blacked out for a minute.  I may have forgotten to breathe.  I definitely lost at least a few minutes because when I got outside and took my phone out of my pocket I had missed a call from my mother.  (I can’t call her back.  She can’t handle this.)

Outside, with the door shut behind me and the sun shining down, my hands were shaking, but not too much to Google “creatures that click and hoard bread” and “monsters that eat butter.”  The two go together apparently.  According to all the message boards, they’ll live happily ever after.  In my house.

Until the bread and butter are gone.  Then they’ll move on.

So if you need me for the next week, I’ll be at the hotel down the street.  All because I had to buy stupid bread and stupid butter to make my stupid toast because I was in such a stupid hurry.

(But please just tell my mom I’m on vacation.  There’s no reason to freak her out.  She doesn’t eat bread anyway.)

Image courtesy of cjansuebsri at freedigitalphotos.net.
 

 

 

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How to Turn a Boring Story Into a Jaw-Dropping Thrill Ride (In 6 Embarrassing Steps)

Some of this is material I posted years ago, when no one read this, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted it to all be about. I kind of liked it then, and it was the beginning of figuring myself out. Now that there are ten or fifteen of you reading, I thought I’d brush it up a little and share it with you again. Because in storytelling, the words are the least important part…

I could totally have titled this “How to Hold Your Kid’s Attention for Three to Five Minutes,” but that sounded too modest.  I prefer to make grandiose claims and then hedge my bets later.  That’s just my style.  So, cards on the table, no matter who you are, you can tell a jaw-dropping tale, but if you can make it last longer than five minutes, you advance to master status.   Still, five minutes of riveted attention is the Mount Everest of parenting. So.

Okay, it’s not.  (Again with the grandiose claims.)  It’s more like the Pike’s Peak of parenting.  Because we all know the Mount Everest of parenting is getting a kid to sleep for eight straight hours.  I’m sorry to say I have no tips on that.

So, back to our original claim that no matter who you are, no matter who your kids are, no matter how boring the story, you can make it into something your they will want to listen to.  It’s all in how you tell it.

Of course, like always, context is everything.  For example, I don’t recommend trying to tell your kids the story of how you buttered your toast while you are walking the magical streets of Disney World.  I’m guessing that story will be better told on a rainy day when your television has exploded.  But still…

1.  Make it about people they know, preferably themselves.  If you’re telling a story from your own childhood, you’re already halfway there.  But if you are telling a story about a princess trapped in a castle or a cowboy riding the range, name the main characters after your kids.  We even used to tell the story of “Ellielocks and the three bears” around our house.  It was a favorite.  I could get all philosophical and talk about how we’re all narcissistic at heart, or I could get all pedagogical and talk about how the use of their name triggers their imagination to place themselves in the story.  But that sounds like too much work, so instead I’ll pull a mom and say, “Trust me.  They’ll eat it up.”  The younger the kid, the more they will love this one.  The older ones may rebel.  But then, if your kids are older, you’re used to that by now.

2.  Use a goofy voice.  I don’t care how atrocious your British accent is.  Your kids don’t care either.  Try it out on a story.  I promise it will make it seem scarier…or funnier…or at least weirder.  Okay, so your spouse will probably laugh at you.  You might want to save that one for when you’re alone with the kids.  But you can give characters in stories any old voice you want.  Telling a story about your old math teacher?  Give her a witch’s voice.  Telling a story about a talking dog?  Make him French.  And do you think you are terrible at using different voices?  Join the club.  If you can’t do an accent to save your life, you can still try making a character talk really slow or really fast, really high-pitched or really low.  It works just as well, and anyone can do it.  Well, anyone who isn’t afraid to sound silly.  And if you are afraid to sound silly, you’d probably better stop reading this right now.

3.  Ask questions.  Let the kids get involved in the story.  Sometimes they are just questions to see if they understand.  “Once upon a time there was a heliotrope.  Do you know what a heliotrope is?  Me either.  Let’s Google it.”  Sometimes they are questions to get them guessing.  “And then the monster came in and found the girl, and what do you think he did to her?  No, he didn’t eat her.  He TICKLED her!”   Some questions are just for interaction.  “The only food he had to eat was dry, moldy bread.  Do you like dry, moldy bread?  If that was all you had to eat, what would you do?”  Questions are particularly good for stories the kids have already heard a thousand times.  “Wait, where was Little Red Riding Hood going?  Her grandmother’s house?  Why would she want to go there?  Was she hoping to get eaten by a wolf?”

4.  Move.  Shout.  Be Alive.  You know what I mean.  You don’t want to do it when you’re tired (which, let’s face it, is all the time), but it works every time.  If someone is going to jump out and yell, “Boo!”  You’ve got to jump.   You’ve got to yell.  If a bee is dive bombing you, swat it away, for goodness sake.  If you broke the chair because you’ve been eating too much porridge, have the grace to look surprised and a little ashamed.  If you can fall on the floor, all the better.   It’s actually pretty fun.  Storytelling, like so many great parenting things, can be a chance to be a kid again.

5. Break out the sound effects. This one pretty much goes along with #4, but it takes slightly less energy. Nothing makes their eyes go wide like someone’s footsteps on the stairs “creak…creak…creak” and the door slowly opening “squeeeeaaaak.” And let me tell you, my sound effects are laughable…and not in a good way. But my kids have never complained.  (Though to be honest, they have mocked a little.)

6. Never underestimate the usefulness of the dramatic pause. When their attention starts to waver, spice things up with a little silence. Take, for example, your toast buttering story. Right about the part when you put in on the plate and get the butter out of the fridge, things start to get a little dull. That’s when a pause can be the most effective. “I got the butter out of the fridge…(long pause)…and I opened the lid…(long pause accompanied by a look of suppressed excitement)…and what do you think I saw? (long pause…by now they are expecting alien symbols to be carved into the butter or a perhaps a severed finger) I…saw…that someone…SOMEONE…had used all but a tiny bit of the butter!” I know…the payoff is totally not there. But I’m telling you, the dramatic pause has given you three distinct advantages: 1)They were listening for those 45 seconds, 2)That tiny bit of boring butter is still about 100 times more interesting than it was before, and 3) You bought yourself some time to think up an alternate and maybe more interesting ending. Because maybe that dramatic pause didn’t just inspire your kids. Maybe it inspired you. Maybe on the spur of the moment, with the full knowledge of how boring your story is, you decided that what you really saw that morning was a big bite out of the butter and that your house is likely infested with butter eating monsters. Don’t underestimate yourself. It could happen.  Inspiration comes to us all when we’re least expecting it.

Okay, that’s it.  Names. Voice. Movement. Questions. Sound Effects. Pauses.  You can handle that.  So go do it!

It only takes five minutes! (And a little bit of your dignity.)

 

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A True Tall Tale: We Are the Ship by Kadir Nelson

“We look back and wonder, ‘How did we do all that?’ It’s simple.  We loved the game so much, we just looked past everything else.  We were ballplayers.  There was nothing we would have rather spent our time doing.”

-We are the Ship: The Story of Negro League Baseball by Kadir Nelson

It’s not very often that a work of non-fiction captures my attention.  It’s even more rare for a history to light me up.  A book about baseball?  Usually not even on my radar, except maybe as a gift for my husband.  This book.  This is the exception to all those rules.

It was the artwork that first drew me in.  I was trolling the internet for good books, as I so often do, and the faces just leaped off the screen at me.

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The whole book is full of these fantastic illustrations, painted by the author.  Many are portraits of players, others show bits and pieces of games, full of tension and just barely restrained motion.  I have flipped through the pages countless times, and the best word I can use to describe them is loving.  Each one is just infused with empathy and affection.

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And oh, the storytelling.  From the first line (“Seems like we’ve been playing baseball for a mighty long time.”) to the closing paragraph (“These guys stand on our shoulders. We cleared the way for them and changed the course of history.  And knowing that satisfies the soul.”) the whole book reads like a tall tale, a legend echoing out of the past, best told around a campfire or out on the back porch on a hot summer night.

I bought this book for my boys, my husband and my son, but unlike all the other sports books I’ve bought them, I read the entire thing myself.  More than once.  Which just goes to show you that the heart of a story is not in the subject matter, not in the what and where of the happenings, but in those who lived it.

This story is a story that was lived well.

 

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