Tales and Tidbits
As a military brat, I moved almost every two to three years when my dad had shore duty. When the moving van rolled up to the curb, I began a well-practiced round of sad farewells and promises to write.
As I slipped into the new-kid-at-school routine, books saved me. Clutching my library card stamped with the latest town, I scooped up adventures, biographies, and mysteries. I wielded that card like a superpower. As long as there were books, I had friends no moving van could take away.
Early on, when my dad was home, he read “Little Lulu” comic books to my sister and me. In his lilting southern accent, Dad voiced Tubby with an exaggerated lisp and his Witch Hazel’s cackle curled our hair.
Later, Dad’s jungle tales delighted us and even though my sister and I braced for the wild beasts that predictably leaped out of his stories, we never failed to cower and shriek in surprise.
Later, when Dad read aloud Stuart Little (E.B. White), my sister and I hung on every scene.
Today whenever I revisit this treasured book about accepting differences, embracing friendship, and venturing into the unknown, I’m confident Stuart eventually found his little hen-bird friend, Margalo. With his open heart, I know Stuart enjoyed more harrowing and humorous miniature-sized adventures along his journey.
I recollect making up my own stories. On the long, cross-country car trips relocating to new military bases, I bedeviled my parents and sister with stories about my favorite doll. It’s a wonder I didn’t end up abandoned somewhere on an interstate.
Another time I pinched off small sections of my pillow, tying them up with rubber bands. I sketched little character faces on the chunks, naming them, and crafted outlandish stories about each.
One summer while visiting a favorite aunt, my cousin noticed my somewhat lumpy pillow. Waving it in the air, he shouted, “Ruthie’s tied her pillow in knots!”
Larger-than-life stories that played out in Technicolor on the movie screen captivated my sister and me. Saturday afternoons, if we finished our chores and had enough allowance, we hopped a bus to the downtown cinema.
Scrunched down in the cushy seats of a darkened movie theater, passing Charms and Jujubes back and forth, we lost ourselves in double features.
Movie stars and their stories fascinated us. As early Hollywood groupies, my sister and I wrote letters to our favorite stars, scraped up postage money, and camped out by the mailbox for the photos, autographs, and notes that eventually arrived.
Although no longer required to move frequently, I still love stories and can’t resist a compelling read or engrossing movie that introduces me to new characters, provides escape, or challenges my world view.
