Ephemera

 

On my dusty shelves I have a wooden box containing tickets and pamphlets from the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair.  These are special to me because my Dad remembers going to the Fair with his family.  He was quite young at the time and living in Chicago with extended family.  While looking at these items recently, I realized the Fair was 80 years ago!  I feel very lucky to be able to talk to someone who actually remembers being there! 

My Dad recalls taking the street car from his home on Belmont to the Fair.  He was able to ride for free.  Even though he was six or seven at the time, he looked younger, so he rode for free.  His sisters had to pay 3 cents each and his parents paid a whole 7 cents each.  His family would go on free days and bring a picnic lunch.  The only extra money spent would be maybe one ride each time they visited the Fair.

Children remember funny things.  My Dad remembers asking his Father if they could go to a certain exhibit.  To get into it, they would have to go down into a little tunnel.  His Father told him they wouldn’t go into that exhibit because it was too deep for him.  My Dad remembers looking down into the tunnel and wondering how deep it went.  Later, he found out that his Father had another meaning of “deep” in mind, and that the exhibit would actually be too hard for him to understand. 

If I had a time machine, I’d love to travel back and ride that street car with my Dad.  To hear the sounds and see the sights of the Fair would be so interesting.  Since I can’t do that, I’ll have to use my imagination while I listen to him tell his stories.

The Carrot Seed

By Ruth Krauss 

Pictures by Crockett Johnson

 I can’t believe this flimsy little paperback has survived so many years.  While the book was written in 1945 this is my Scholastic copy from 1971.  I quickly marked it with my names as you can see in the photo below.  

 The text and illustrations are both so simple, yet the message is so profound.  A little boy plants a carrot seed but his mother, father, and big brother all tell him it probably won’t come up.  Each day the little boy carefully waters the seed and pulls up the weeds.  Time passes and it seems as if his family was right.  Still, the little boy continues to care for the seed.  Then - what do you know - one day a carrot comes up – just as the little boy knew it would! 

I think my mother gave me this book because everyone in my house was older, bigger, stronger, smarter, and faster than little me.  What came so easily for the big brothers and sisters seemed impossible to do.  Fortunately for me, unlike the boy in this book, my family wasn’t outwardly discouraging.  I don’t remember being told I couldn’t do something.  I just remember feeling like I would never be able to go as fast and do the things that they could do.  

What this book taught me is the importance of perseverance and patience.  Keep at it little by little– keep nurturing the tiny seed, even if the results aren’t yet obvious. One day you might be surprised with a “carrot” of your own!

Ookpik’s New Home

Ookpik and his new friends

I just had a wonderful surprise.  After reading my blog post a couple of weeks ago about Ookpik, my sister went into her storage boxes and found her little fuzzy yellow owl along with the original book about him.  She thought that Ookpik would be happier among my library of children’s books and book related toys than stuffed into a dark box.  Guess what?  He is.  And so am I!

 

I had no idea that he still existed.  Apparently this little toy meant a lot to her too, since she kept him this long.  He did need a little work.  One of his googly eyes was missing, so he had a little operation before travelling from Missouri to Illinois.  

The book that came with the Ookpik toy is The Adventures of Ookpik, written by Barbara Shook Hazen and illustrated by Harry Devlin.  The copyright date is 1968.  

In this story, a little furry creature hatches from an egg way up in the icy North.  He was all by himself, so he decided to start walking so he could discover who he is.  When asked by a caribou what his name is, the little furry creature says the first word that pops into his head – Ookpik!  Ookpik meets many different animals on his adventure, but doesn’t seem to fit in with any of them.  Finally, Ookpik finds himself outside an igloo.  It was the home of an Eskimo boy.  It turns out that the boy longed for a pet to play with.  Ookpik has at last found his calling – he is a friend to the lonely Eskimo boy!

So thank you, Amy, for this very special gift.  I smile whenever I see Ookpik sitting on my shelf.

Words as Pictures

Just as I thought she would, my sister-in-law quickly e-mailed me last week after reading my post.  I had written about my vivid memories of the illustrations in my favorite childhood books, and wondered what a person without the sense of sight would recall.  Kathy gave me permission to post her comments. 

  "I remember the people who read to me, but I remember the stories, and the way the words were magic.

    When I was six, we got the Nutcracker Suite album, and I loved the music. I think my sister was dancing to The Waltz of the Flowers in her ballet class. I was just a beginning ballet student, so I couldn't dance to anything that cool!

    With the record came a storybook of the Nutcracker. I begged to be read it again and again. I must have a good imagination, because I pictured the scenes from the story vividly. I still find the story and music wonderful!

    I have always loved words, and learned to read early and well so I could read on my own. But the act of listening to my grandmother, and on rare occasions my mom, dad or sister, were so special. My grandmother and sister made books come alive.

    Books always have been magical to me and I love authors who paint word pictures. Brian Jacques is a good example of that. I also loved the Little House books, and often imagined myself to be Laura. Mary was way too good for a naughty brat like me!"

I agree with Kathy that words can be magic.  The ability of an author to paint these magical word pictures is a true gift.  I guess that no matter who we are, the words form different pictures in each of our minds.  Regardless, reading to a child provides memories that will last them a lifetime.