Random post about Books and Families

I picked up a book at the DI.  It was a book I hadn't read since I was in first or second grade, but I remembered liking it so much I bought it so my kids could read it.
I don't know how many of you are familiar with The Boxcar Children, but it was a chapter book originally written back in 1924 for young readers.  There are actually over a hundred books under the Boxcar Children name, only 19 of which were written by the original author.  I never got into those subsequent books though, I didn't really care for them, all I cared for was the original.
So upon bringing the book home, I opened it up to be reminded of what it was like, and suddenly I was whisked back in time. I didn't realize how much this book affected and shaped my childhood play.  I ended up reading it from cover to cover over the last two days, not just because the story was so engrossing, but because the feelings and memories associated with it were so strong.

In a nutshell, it is about 4 orphaned siblings who run away and set up house in an abandoned rail car.  Their ages range from 14-6, the oldest and youngest being boys. 

I loved the idea of surviving simply upon one's resourcefulness and wits on the periphery of civilization yet beyond the conventions of modern society. And I'm afraid that being an orphan, or at least a runaway, was highly romanticized in my youth (nothing personal Mom). :)

Thinking back on some of my favorite books as a young person, I realize that this was a popular theme even as I grew older:

My Side of the Mountain, --NY runaway who lives in the forest

Island of the Blue Dolphins, --Orphan who lives on deserted island

The Cay, --shipwreck survivors who live on an island

Call it Courage, --storm tossed boy who is lost and left to survive on a island

Julie of the Wolves, -- Eskimo runaway who lives on the tundra

Wolves of Willoughby Chase --runaway orphans (although they don't do it all on their own, they have help.  I just liked the secret passageways in their house).

Hatchet --plane crash survivor

Just to name a few.*


I recall all sorts of games my younger sister and I played which involved us being somehow lost or orphaned and having to survive on our own.  Most often our yard became an island, with the wheat fields around us easily imagined as the vast expanse of ocean which we occasionally checked for ships. If my mother or any other member of the family showed up on our island, they were explained away as the native cannibals that inhabited the island --generally to be avoided-- and my cat, the ferocious man-eating tiger (which we eventually tamed and befriended because we were sick of running away screaming each time she came near).  On the other hand, if we were runaway orphans, my mother was either the evil headmistress, or the kind cook who smuggled us food unbeknownst to the evil Master of the house ...depending on the mood of the day.

My sister and I even went so far as to start writing our own book based on our pretend games. We were in 2nd and 3rd grade I believe, and the the basic premise of the story was that of two girls --the sole survivors of a plane crash, who washed up on a tropical island and had to survive on their own for an indeterminate time. The story is really laughable.

Ah yes, those were the good old days.

Anyway, back to this book which sparked so much reverie, The Boxcar Children.
I believe it was one of the first chapter books I ever read.  It is written simply and is easy for young readers to understand.  It glosses over any distressful things such as any details of how their parents died, and simply leaves out mundane details that kids might not think to ask but made me curious as I read, such as where do they go to the bathroom?  (Okay, so maybe kids these days would think of that, along with my immature self, but back in 1924 it wasn't something anybody talked about.) Barring the fact that the story is super simplified and everything works out so conveniently (it is a children's book after all), I was actually really impressed with the undercurrent of cheerfulness, selfless concern, maturity, and the skill and industry that the children exhibit.
They build a fireplace, and a makeshift refrigerator of sorts behind a waterfall, glean useful items from a nearby dump, even manufacturing their own tools and such out of bits and pieces of stuff they find there. The girls cook, sew, do laundry by hand, gather blueberries, and care for their younger brother as well as an injured stray dog. The oldest boy, exhibiting responsibility and independence, earns money by offering to do odd jobs at the home of an elderly Dr. as well as procuring leftovers from thinning the vegetable garden, some bent nails to be straightened and reused and an extra hammer he finds while organizing the garage which the old man is happy to give him. With his money he purchases milk and bread and ingredients for the girls to cook with. With the nails he builds a cart to haul rocks and together they build a dam across the stream to make a pool to bathe in.
The girls are motherly and skilled, the oldest boy is hard working and resourceful.  How many things in our popular culture today actually promote such ideals?  I'm coming up blank. I know this is only fiction, and in real life those kids would most likely have come to very unfortunate circumstances, but why stop promoting those kinds of attitudes?

Another book that I loved growing up was not on the list because the kids weren't necessarily on their own, and also because it's not really fiction, although it is written for kids, is that of the Laura Ingall's Wilder series.  Now there's a lesson in self-sufficiency and hard work.  Even within those stories, not everyone was cut out to make it on their own, but the whole series celebrates the freedom and independence and joy --yes joy of a job well done and living upon the fruits of one's labor and knowing how to provide and survive on the basic necessities of life.  In fact, the only antagonist, if you can call her that, I can think of is Nellie Oleson --the little girl in town who has everything and never has to work a day for any of it and who is so spoiled and mean that she really isn't very happy.
I'm afraid that the world today is filled with Nellie Olesons.

I mean, what happened? When did work become our enemy? When did comfort and ease become so important?  When did complaining cease to be considered ill-manners? In fact, what happened to manners at all? I mean, I know it wasn't all rosy, and that things weren't always ideal --I suppose I can be grateful that the "children should be seen and not heard" was left behind, although there are times when I wish I could apply it in my home... but honestly, sometimes I'd like to go back to the good old days, when hard work was the rule not the exception, people -even kids were empowered and taught how to survive and to rely on their own knowledge and industry rather than to wait for hand-outs from parents or the government.

I wouldn't give up modern medicine though, or transportation  ...or laundry machines...or flushing toilets...

Okay, so I'm not quite as idealistic as I sound, but at the very least, I can strive to foster these principles in my own home as much as possible.



Speaking of nurturing good principles through books, the annual Celebration of the Family Proclamation is going on right now through the 28th (you may have noticed the button in the side bar of my blog, see how I participated last year by clicking here).  Today's post was inspired by another great post about books for children that exemplify happy family relationships with a wonderful list of books that I think everyone should read.  (Probably more uplifting than my measly list of orphan and survivor stories, although you may notice my comment includes another book about an orphan). Anyway, check out all their other posts by clicking on the sidebar button and scrolling back through posts of the past week (there's been some really great ones), and following links to the other two blogs that are hosting this celebration. (When it's over I'll try to have a link to the main index page that lists all the posts and articles of past years --they're really all so great.)

Anyway, those are my random thoughts for the day.  Kinda random for being MIA for a few weeks I know, but hey it's better than nothing right?



(*Disclaimer: depending on your views, some of the books I listed are more appropriate for older children because the serious nature of surviving on one's own could be distressing to young children, and some parts could be a bit graphic.  Reviewing this list and googling certain titles, I am actually surprised at how many of them had been pulled from the shelves of libraries at one time or another, and equally surprised at what age I remember reading them.  Kids are so sheltered these days when it comes to human suffering, yet so exposed when it comes to sinful behavior.)

1st day of the rest of his life...

My 5 year old has entered a new phase in his life --about a month ago, he started kindergarten.
(I know, I'm a little behind, but life is busy. What can I say?)

Isn't he so cute?  The one day he doesn't go to school with bed head.

I'm not sure what to feel (besides feeling older). I'm a little bit sad and a little bit happy, a little bit worried and little bit excited.
I mean, it could mean the beginning the difficult process of growing up, of suddenly having expectations placed upon you --which you may or may not live up to--, being judged and tested and given scores with actual numbers and letters that may or may not reflect how "smart" you are or the particular talents you have, of having less say in the course of your day to day life, and dealing with outside forces and influences and people that may or may not be kind and loving or have your best interest in mind...
However it could also be the beginning of great growth and exploration, of gaining confidence and will power, having structure to your day, making goals and seeing measurable progress, meeting new people who are just like you or who are on your side helping you to be the best you can be, realizing just how big the world is and seeing your potential as part of it, and having an opportunity to affect the lives of those around you in a positive way...

I guess it will probably be a little of both.

I hope that even though I can't control what happens to my kids when they're out of the home, I can prepare them and instill a in them a positive attitude about school, and about life in general, and help them see the possibilities life has to offer ...even on those days when I don't want to get out of bed in the morning either.

Retired

This old bear has seen a lot of miles.  He's been there from the beginning When Gramma Z gave it to him at his blessing.

('09)

I think I've re-sewn on every appendage, every seam, at least once.

We couldn't go anywhere without "White Bear" --who in the end wasn't so white-- nor could my three year old be expected to sleep without white bear by his side.

My kisses were never enough when there was an owie, a bad dream, or some injustice imposed by a big brother; only white bear could console him.

And even after an unfortunate experience in a hot dryer left him somewhat disfigured and less fuzzy, he was still loved.

Sadly though, seams stopped holding --despite my best efforts, stuffing was lost, and washes never seemed to get him white again. (Note: dollar store toys do not make for lasting lovies).

So when my three year old expressed a desire for another toy he saw in the store, I jumped at the opportunity to replace White Bear. (I know, so heartless of me.)

I explained to him that we would throw White Bear away, that he would sleep with his new toy from now on, and surprisingly, he readily agreed.

With an unceremonious farewell, White Bear entered "toy retirement."

I think it was harder for me in some ways.

 Meet "Hippo."
(I know, so original, but he's three).

I hope I'm not so easily replaced.

Nostalgia

I could imagine the origin of that word coming from the word for nose, but it doesn't.  Still, haven't you ever just gotten a whiff of something that totally took you back to a specific time and place in your life?  It's like a little time machine built right into your head!  Of course, there's the nice smells that we all enjoy: fresh bread, lilacs, lemon peels, rain...  But I'm talking more specific than that. I'm talking smells that are inseparably connected to a place or time in your past.

Some smells are place specific.  I remember the first time I was away from home at college.  I hadn't realized that home had a smell.  I first realized when one of my roommates started cooking something by sauteing onions and I was instantly transported, you know, like Anton Ego style when he takes a bite of the ratatouille...  yeah.  I guess my mom sauteed onions a lot.  It happened again when I returned home for the first time for a visit, but this time it was the evening canyon breeze coming through the kitchen window.  It smelled of pines and a freshly mown lawn, and maybe a hint of faraway skunk. It filled my head with memories of sleeping out on the trampoline, digging for fishing worms in the garden after dark, and climbing our willow tree to sit on the still-warm garage roof to watch the stars come out.

Other smells are season specific --like the smell of fresh cut grass and the oil they use to burn lines into the soccer fields --that takes me back to various years that I played, both city league and in high school.  Even though I haven't played for more than 10 years, at the beginning of each new school year I smell it and it makes me want to run around and get grass stains.
One of my seasonal favorites is new Spring grass.  When I was young we had rabbits and we would feed them handfuls of the stuff as soon as it sprang up.  I remember how eagerly they would pull it from our fingers as we stuffed it through the wires of their pens and munch it one blade after another. The smell was pure green, if green had a smell, and every spring I still make sure that I grab a handful of the stuff for my annual dose of time-travel; back to when I had no cares in the world, wore sun-suits and Jellies, and played with My Little Ponies (yes, I was a child of the 80's)

Another Spring smell that takes me back to my earliest memories is that of the smoke from when the migrant workers would come and burn the grass and winter debris out of the ditches to unclog them for irrigation.  I even have an image that comes to my head when I smell that smell: the perspective is from either my tricycle or hoppity-horse, out on the pavement under the basketball standard to the side of our house --before the garage was there, watching the smoke rise from the ditch that ran along the road under a line of huge old trees that don't exist anymore.

Ah yes.  I could go on and on, but it's late, and I shouldn't stay up much longer.  I'll have to do time-travel posts every so often, whenever I smell something that transports me somewhere.

What smells take you to other times and places?