Guest blogger: Ode to books

 Dear Annie,
I remain awestruck at Isabel's experience with graphic novels.  And thank you for your primer on the many ways a family can read graphic novels.
Our daughters have returned to their lives in California and Spain, and we've been doing a bit of post-Christmas clean-up around here.  Bob unearthed a wonderful artifact of our family's past: a poem he wrote for Christmas 1994, about our reading life.  Lizzie was almost five; Mona was three and a half.

                                                         

The references are to books we'd read during that one year.  I've put in links to 75 different books; 50 of those links are to Annie and Aunt. 

XMAS POEM 1994

Dear family: It has been a year

Since last we had a Christmas here,

With Santa's bounty strewn like pillows

Beneath the sacred armadillo.

Who knows what gifts this day will bring?

I don't – but there's at least one thing

I'm sure must lie beneath the tree:

Some books for you; some books for me.

That makes me happy, and it's leading

Me to think about the reading

We have done together. And

(If you'll forgive this bland

Attempt at rhyme) I'd like to write

Some verses of my own that might

Help overloaded brains remember

Books we loved in late December

Nineteen ninety four.  So here's

A Christmas list that says: Three cheers

For Alfie, Alice, Angel Mae,

Dolores and her sister, Fay.

Hurray for Ferdinand and Bambi,

Beezus and Ramona Quimby,

Abe and Andy, Squanto, Davy,

Homily, Pod and Arriety.

Let us bark loud acclamation

For all one hundred-plus Dalmations.

Best wishes to Babar and Boris,

Elmer Elevator, Morris

And his disappearing bag.  (Could Spot

Walk into it and not

Be missed?  We'll never know.)

To Brave Irene, who trudged through snow;

Betsy and the doctor, too;

Brave Eugene and his possum crew.

We read about all sorts of bravery –

And, occasionally, knavery,

From the henchmen of Cruella

To that rotten Nome King fella.

Look out, Peter!  Here comes Hook!

The captain's got a scary look,

But pirates can't beat Peter Pan.

(Growing up's the thing that can.)

We're going on a bear hunt.  We're

Not scared – unless the bear is here.

Speaking of bears: Pooh is a favorite

With his friends Eeyore and Piglet,

Rabbit with the too-small door,

Owl and Tigger (worra-worr),

Christopher Robin, Roo and Kanga;

In your honor, we shall hang a

Picture on each bedroom wall,

With thanks to Grandma from us all.

We've ridden elephants through Brooklyn;

Down by the great Limpopo, one's been

Spotted with a crocodile.

And who's that beast all wreathed in smiles?

Why, Horton with his egg: It's hatching!

(Meanwhile, poor old Spinky's sulking.)

We've read of big and little fishes,

Searched with Galen for Delicious,

Mourned with Ardis at the lake,

Hopped on Pop (hope he won't break).

We've gobbled up green eggs and ham.

With Sal, we've dug and dug for clams,

Eaten ice cream and clam chowder,

Blueberried in times of wonder.

We've been bored (nothing to do)

And we've told riddles, me and you,

Of copycats who end up swimming:

Catfish, as it were, not catwings.

The Cat in the Hat's been back this year

And Harry Cat has been a dear

Old friend to Chester.  Aren't friends grand?

Take Frog and Toad – they understand

Each other.  Mudge and Henry, too.

And George and Martha.  It is true

That Thelma played a trick on Frances,

But they made up and took their chances

Being friends, not being careful.

Still, you'd better be bewareful

Of that nimble Fox: He's famous

For his tricks.  Now, why's George curious?

You can't mean it – you're not serious.

Tell me a Trudy, tell me a Mitzi,

But don't imagine you'll convince me

That the yellow-hatted fellow

Tried to keep that monkey mellow

By teaching him the alphabet –

That's worthy of the Stupids.  Yet

It ended happily, this tale,

Like Amos Mouse and Boris Whale's.

Holly and Ivy brought tears to eyes.

Grandfather Twilight had a surprise

In the form of pearls that turn to moons.

But who's left out?  This must end soon.

We should mention Max's breakfast vagaries;

Dr. Dolittle's menageries;

Make way for ducklings, tour the Night Kitchen

And think of a rhyme we can put London Bridge in.

There's Katy's snow, mouse tales, mouse soup

Anna's new coat, the puddle goop

Into which jumped the piggie's mother;

And that makes me think of a strange kind of weather:

Cloudy, with meatballs soon to be showering;

A garden with secrets, soon to be flowering;

Stuart and Charlotte and Louis the swan;

Shy Charles, Cinderella, Snow White – on and on

We could go, with our listing of Gollies

and penguins and Poppers and many more jolly

Good stories – like Paul Revere's horse, brave old Sherry,

And children who somehow made friends with a railway.

The carpet and phoenix should not be forgotten;

No more should Jemima, whose egg-luck was rotten.

What about Madeline?  Who do you think'll

Remember to ask: “What about Tiggywinkle?”

(That's “Mrs.” to you – we must be polite.)

Merry Christmas to all – and to all a good night!

Thanks to Bob for writing it, for saving it, and for having been there all along.

Love,

Deborah