“Adults are just obsolete children
and the hell with them.”
-Theodor Seuss Geisel (“Dr. Seuss”)
I am pretty sure I owned hard cover copies of Green Eggs and Ham (published 1960) and The Cat in the Hat (published 1957) way back when I was about 5 or 6. Funny how these little snippets of my childhood seem to be tied up with mental images of his books more than any other books that were popular at the time (I think we actually had a good collection of those published by Little Golden Books, like The Little Red Hen, The Poky Little Puppy and Raggedy Ann and Andy). For some reason, I have, for a long time largely attributed to Dr. Seuss’ books my learning how to read at all, including those that were generously lined up on our family room bookshelves.
Yesterday, while Typhoon Gener (one of those tropical cyclones which the Philippines reportedly gets on an average of about 20 every year) was raging outside our house and before the power outage was over (classes for all levels were suspended on this account, which left us with nothing much to do but pick on something we couldn’t do or couldn’t have at the moment), my 6-year-old Lover asked me for a picture of the “Thingamajigger.” I told her we could look it up on Google Images once there was power and Internet connection. To her this was a sublime opportunity to once again remind me that I have not been reading to her The Cat in the Hat as I had promised a long time ago. In fact, “nobody even knows where that book is now, mommy” whereupon she picked up the only Dr. Seuss book that was left within sight:
which had a chirpy little explanatory note and suggestion inside:
I am quite sure I did not purchase this second-hand book with exactly those intentions in mind. I probably got this due more to my severe inclination to acquire anything vintage, than on account of my desire to let my children get their sticky little hands on it.
It did, certainly, have the effect of reminding me how stormy weather (I can hear the sky rumbling as I write) has transitioned and come full circle for me, from cozy school-free afternoons reading books under the barely-there light of a tiny gasera (the ubiquitous kerosene lamp of those stormy blackout days before people really understood the dangers of its toxic fumes), to lonely unattached days of being a single 18-year-old, to sun-less yet brighter days just hanging around with Bear with (at last) a sense of togetherness, then to now, where I’m back to reading Dr. Seuss minus the lamp but with the addition of small kids demanding a reason why the author called the Cat’s vehicle a “Thingamajigger” (I mean, why not just “flying car,” mommy?).
Dr. Seuss had said:
“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”
So my answer to Lover’s brow-furrowing question: Because, my Lover, Thingamajigger is cooler and happier.
What about you?
What do stormy days remind you of?
Do you sometimes fondly think about the books you read as a child? Oh, I’d really, really love to hear about it!
Thanks for stopping by! 😉
See you again,