N is for Naughty

Who is one of the naughtiest rabbits you've heard of, aside from Little Bunny Foo Foo?  My nominee is Peter.  In Beatrix Potter’s book Peter is called naughty: “But Peter who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor’s garden, and squeezed under the gate.”

Back in the late 1990’s my mother suffered from a stroke so severe that she could not talk, walk or do anything to help herself.  I spent much of that summer with her being her manager, re-teaching her language through the use of children’s books (much to the dismay of her speech therapist who said I should be using adult books).  Mom’s work from the time I was in jr. high was in libraries with children.  That’s also what I was doing at the time.  I told the therapist this and he begrudgingly allowed me to continue – not that I wouldn't have continued without his “blessing.”

Enter Peter Rabbit.  A small enough book that we had to sit close together in order to see and talk about the pictures.  And the magic moment when I read, “But Peter who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor’s garden, and squeezed under the gate.” and Mom said, “Naughty Rabbit!”  I was as joyful as a mother listening to her child’s first real words.  Naughty as Peter was, he had given my mother back her ability to talk.  After that breakthrough, we talked about the books and the pictures. 

Never underestimate the power of a Naughty Rabbit.

Lucky Me – Stories My Mother Told Me



Mom & Me

My mother, my mother told me stories, sang me songs and read to me every day when I was little.  She told stories about her life, her brothers and sisters, her mother and father.  She read fairy tales and folktales from a set of books we called the Red Books which were part of the deal when she purchased a set of encyclopedias when I was about three or four.  By the time I needed to use an encyclopedia they were pretty much out of date, but I still have the Red Books.

A few times when Mom told us, my sisters and me, folktales and fairy tales she made up little songs to put into the stories.  The one I especially remember is The Three Billy Goats Gruff and I use those little ditties when I tell that story.  I loved listening to Mom tell and read stories.  I wanted to remember the stories she told; so I retold them to my imaginary brother, his name was Bother, when he would come to visit me.

From http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/misc/stories/

I remember sitting in the rock garden overlooking the valley that was next to our rural Ohio home.  Brother lived in the Valley.  When I called, “Brother, come up!” sometimes he would be there, and I could practice telling Mom’s stories since he never seemed to be around when she told them.  Brother was a good listener.

My grandpa was an engineer for the gas company in Iowa.  The family moved a lot, and Mom told us stories about all the places she lived.  One I particularly remember is about when she and her older brother got in trouble for throwing crab apples at the trolley.  Her older brother taught her how to play basketball.  These were the olden days, remember, and girls played by different rules in basketball than boys did.  They couldn’t cross the line in the middle of the gym.  But Mom learned to play boys’ rules.  Basketball was a big deal in Iowa even back then.  Mom was on the Girls Basketball Team in High School.  The whistle blew a lot when she was on the court – every time she crossed that middle line!



Mom & Daddy

As we got older, Mom’s stories were sometimes about when she met my dad.  It was a blind date, but they weren’t dating each other.  Daddy’s sister went to the same Nursing School my mom did.  She volunteered her brother as a date for a dance.  Mom’s good friend did not have a date; so…  The day after the double date, Daddy stepped way out of his comfort zone and called Mom to see if he could take her out.  She said, “Yes,” and that was it.

Mom is gone from my life now.  It’s been a number of years.  But those stories she told me, read to me, and the songs she sang to me are still part of me.  They always will be! 

Happy Mother’s Day to my very first storytelling mentor – MY MOM!