Just a word on pig stories...
When I was a little girl, I had a very set bedtime routine. I would take a bath, put on my blue sleepers or nightgown, drink my bottle of milk (I kept it up for an embarrassingly long time . . . I think I might have been four years old when I finally quit and it was against my will), and my dad would read me a story before bed. After he read me a story, he would take me to my bed - which I had made a special way, with my blanket pink side down - and tuck me in before telling me my good night story. Then my mom would come in, we'd say prayers, and I would go to sleep. It was quite the life.
Anyhow, my favorite book for a long time was Lily Pig's Book of Colors, a riveting tale of obstacles and near tragedy with a joyful conclusion...and all that within about 14 pages. My dad started out at least ambivalent to Lily Pig; my love of it drove the ambivalence to solid dislike and he would kindly ask if maybe we could read something else tonight. On my gracious nights, which were few and far between, I would let him read me Ferdinand the Bull, another classic tale but one which paled in comparison to the joys and sorrows of Lily Pig.
The book begins with the words: "Today was Lily Pig's birthday and what a glorious sunny day it was. 'I think I'll have a party and invite all my friends,' thought Lily Pig..." And so Lily Pig goes from place to place and store to store trying to find party favors and food for her friends so that they'll have a lovely time on her birthday. If you've read The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings you already know about the idea of doing things for someone else on your birthday . . . which I think it beautiful. Really, if life is a gift and you're thankful for yours and having lived another year of it, why not have a party and invite all your friends?
Anyhow, Lily Pig gets stuck in tar, has her balloons popped by porcupines, has pencils fall on her head, crashes her cart into an orange stand, accidentally lets all the baby chicks loose, and falls into a pickle tub. At the end of the day, she sadly goes home to take a bubble bath . . . without any presents or party favors or food for her would-be guests. When she gets out of the tub and wraps herself in her fluffy pink towel, though, she finds that all her friends are waiting outside and have a lovely little party, full of the things she tried to get for them but didn't. At the end she has a chocolate cake with a candle the color of each thing that happened to her that day. It is a beautiful story.
Then I experienced pigs for myself via some family friends that had a farm. They would raise them for 4-H and then enter them in the County Fair. If they didn't go on to State, they would do what needed to be done to pigs by a butcher. Prior to the deed being done, we would ride the pigs all over their 40 acres - there was nothing left to lose at that point, if you know what I mean. Pigs, it turns out, are quite smart. They would run as quickly as their little legs could carry them - and us - and then stop right in front of a cactus. Momentum would take care of the rest and we would spend a lot of time trying to remove cactus needles from ourselves. Hours of fun, really. It was such an adventure, though, especially since pigs are clearly not made for riding.
Then, following college, I was a nanny for a year and the children introduced me to another childhood pig experience: Olivia the Pig. I believe there is a whole series of these books at this point and there are Olivia posters, Olivia stuffed animals, and probably Olivia placemats and lunchboxes. It happens.
Olivia is a very precocious young piglet that has what might be called delusions of grandeur. She has the most active imagination ever and can see herself in Degas paintings, as a singer at the opera, or saving the world. In no way does Olivia lack self-esteem . . . and her little, confident view of the world and her rightful place in it is totally endearing. I recently read Olivia Goes To Venice in a bookshop and loved it. If you have the chance, you should read it, too. The author, Ian Falconer, does a masterful job of saying quite a bit with very few words and very apt illustrations. If you have any little girls in your life, you can probably relate.
Well, although my bedtime routine is much less cozy that it used to be in the days of Lily Pig, I think it is time for me to buck up and do it. Buona notte!
The book begins with the words: "Today was Lily Pig's birthday and what a glorious sunny day it was. 'I think I'll have a party and invite all my friends,' thought Lily Pig..." And so Lily Pig goes from place to place and store to store trying to find party favors and food for her friends so that they'll have a lovely time on her birthday. If you've read The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings you already know about the idea of doing things for someone else on your birthday . . . which I think it beautiful. Really, if life is a gift and you're thankful for yours and having lived another year of it, why not have a party and invite all your friends?
Anyhow, Lily Pig gets stuck in tar, has her balloons popped by porcupines, has pencils fall on her head, crashes her cart into an orange stand, accidentally lets all the baby chicks loose, and falls into a pickle tub. At the end of the day, she sadly goes home to take a bubble bath . . . without any presents or party favors or food for her would-be guests. When she gets out of the tub and wraps herself in her fluffy pink towel, though, she finds that all her friends are waiting outside and have a lovely little party, full of the things she tried to get for them but didn't. At the end she has a chocolate cake with a candle the color of each thing that happened to her that day. It is a beautiful story.
Then I experienced pigs for myself via some family friends that had a farm. They would raise them for 4-H and then enter them in the County Fair. If they didn't go on to State, they would do what needed to be done to pigs by a butcher. Prior to the deed being done, we would ride the pigs all over their 40 acres - there was nothing left to lose at that point, if you know what I mean. Pigs, it turns out, are quite smart. They would run as quickly as their little legs could carry them - and us - and then stop right in front of a cactus. Momentum would take care of the rest and we would spend a lot of time trying to remove cactus needles from ourselves. Hours of fun, really. It was such an adventure, though, especially since pigs are clearly not made for riding.
Olivia is a very precocious young piglet that has what might be called delusions of grandeur. She has the most active imagination ever and can see herself in Degas paintings, as a singer at the opera, or saving the world. In no way does Olivia lack self-esteem . . . and her little, confident view of the world and her rightful place in it is totally endearing. I recently read Olivia Goes To Venice in a bookshop and loved it. If you have the chance, you should read it, too. The author, Ian Falconer, does a masterful job of saying quite a bit with very few words and very apt illustrations. If you have any little girls in your life, you can probably relate.
Well, although my bedtime routine is much less cozy that it used to be in the days of Lily Pig, I think it is time for me to buck up and do it. Buona notte!
I miss good bacon.
ReplyDeleteI love it. The image of little Beth tucked away in bed listening to the sad adventure of her favorite pig for the thousandth time is so poignant. =)
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