This past weekend I took my two oldest grandkids to see Winnie the Pooh (Rated ‘G’ - for G-Moms & G-Babes).
As storybook characters go, it just doesn’t get more whimsical or wistful than Winnie. The honey-seeking Pooh has been around forever, even back in the dark ages when I was a little girl. But oddly enough, the cuddly little bear barely registered a blip on the radar of my childhood. In retrospect, the Pooh Bear and I should’ve been thick as thieves --- me with my hairy legs, him with his love of all things sweet and sugary. I certainly had more in common with him than that skinny ho, Barbie.
Even though a generation late, I eventually came to appreciate the fat little Winnie after the birth of my firstborn son, Lucas. It was through his sweet little boy eyes that I became acquainted with Christopher Robin’s favorite teddy bear. One of my most treasured memories is of a miniature Lucas sitting in the blue pickup next to his Daddy, both of them singing loudly (one of them off-key) to a cassette tape of Kenny Loggins’ House on Pooh Corner...
As storybook characters go, it just doesn’t get more whimsical or wistful than Winnie. The honey-seeking Pooh has been around forever, even back in the dark ages when I was a little girl. But oddly enough, the cuddly little bear barely registered a blip on the radar of my childhood. In retrospect, the Pooh Bear and I should’ve been thick as thieves --- me with my hairy legs, him with his love of all things sweet and sugary. I certainly had more in common with him than that skinny ho, Barbie.
Even though a generation late, I eventually came to appreciate the fat little Winnie after the birth of my firstborn son, Lucas. It was through his sweet little boy eyes that I became acquainted with Christopher Robin’s favorite teddy bear. One of my most treasured memories is of a miniature Lucas sitting in the blue pickup next to his Daddy, both of them singing loudly (one of them off-key) to a cassette tape of Kenny Loggins’ House on Pooh Corner...
I swear that was only yesterday. How could it be that I found myself - almost 30 years later – sitting in a darkened theater, bracketed by Luke's children?
After we settled in with the biggest box of popcorn we could buy, contraband bottles of water, and seats that threatened to fold my tiny sidekicks in half, I finally began to focus on the movie.
But the more I became involved in the antics of the lovely old-fashioned characters, the more I began to see the storybook inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood in a whole new light. A shockingly tarnished light.
How had I heretofore missed the glaring fact that Winnie the Pooh is a raging addict surrounded by a group of bumbling co-dependent friends? I mean, not only is Pooh jonesing for a honey-fix every waking moment, his friend Tigger is in obvious need of a steady dose of Ritalin. And Eeyore…sheesh. Does Prozac come in donkey strength? And while we're at it, how hard could it be to slap some Velcro or duct tape on Eeyore's butt to secure that "on-again/off-again" tail of his? Seriously.
As I found my cynical thoughts regarding this dysfunctional ragtag group of woodsy animals spiraling out of control, I happened to glance down at my little grandson...and was instantly humbled to my toes. His big blue eyes could not have opened any wider to take in all the wonderment being played out before him on the movie screen. His little smile was clear indication that he had indeed been transported smack dab into the middle of the Hundred Acre Wood. When I looked over at Mandie, her expression was exactly the same.
At the uncynical, unblemished ages of 5 and 3, not only do they appreciate all things whimsical, but they are the rightful owners of an unchallenged, unwavering faith in happily ever after. Seeing the enchantment in their innocent, beautiful eyes, my own eyes were forced to refocus.
After we settled in with the biggest box of popcorn we could buy, contraband bottles of water, and seats that threatened to fold my tiny sidekicks in half, I finally began to focus on the movie.
But the more I became involved in the antics of the lovely old-fashioned characters, the more I began to see the storybook inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood in a whole new light. A shockingly tarnished light.
How had I heretofore missed the glaring fact that Winnie the Pooh is a raging addict surrounded by a group of bumbling co-dependent friends? I mean, not only is Pooh jonesing for a honey-fix every waking moment, his friend Tigger is in obvious need of a steady dose of Ritalin. And Eeyore…sheesh. Does Prozac come in donkey strength? And while we're at it, how hard could it be to slap some Velcro or duct tape on Eeyore's butt to secure that "on-again/off-again" tail of his? Seriously.
As I found my cynical thoughts regarding this dysfunctional ragtag group of woodsy animals spiraling out of control, I happened to glance down at my little grandson...and was instantly humbled to my toes. His big blue eyes could not have opened any wider to take in all the wonderment being played out before him on the movie screen. His little smile was clear indication that he had indeed been transported smack dab into the middle of the Hundred Acre Wood. When I looked over at Mandie, her expression was exactly the same.
At the uncynical, unblemished ages of 5 and 3, not only do they appreciate all things whimsical, but they are the rightful owners of an unchallenged, unwavering faith in happily ever after. Seeing the enchantment in their innocent, beautiful eyes, my own eyes were forced to refocus.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
And therein lies one of the great blessing of having grandchildren…their ability to connect me to heaven, while tethering me to the here and now. Through the innocence of their childhood, they send me spiraling back to the serendipitious, laugh-out-loud, joyous days of my own childhood.
As much as I love being the Mother of their Daddy, the sheer busyness and responsibility of being 'Mom' caused me to miss many magical moments. Sure, I noticed those little dimples in his elbows and seldom passed up an opportunity to nuzzle that delicious spot on the back of his sweet baby neck. But I gotta admit, not every moment was a gift and not every stage of his development was as delightful as those of his trio of children.
My three grandbabies…my gifts of Frankincense, Gold and Myrrh.
As much as I love being the Mother of their Daddy, the sheer busyness and responsibility of being 'Mom' caused me to miss many magical moments. Sure, I noticed those little dimples in his elbows and seldom passed up an opportunity to nuzzle that delicious spot on the back of his sweet baby neck. But I gotta admit, not every moment was a gift and not every stage of his development was as delightful as those of his trio of children.
My three grandbabies…my gifts of Frankincense, Gold and Myrrh.
They enchant me. In their presence I am an awestruck audience of one, witnessing their journey into wonderland, applauding their every expression and endeavor.
Looking at them I see life in both moments and years. In the spiral helix of their DNA I find connections to the past. In their eyes, I see only possibilities and hope for the future. By uniquely blending my past with their future, my position in posterity - in this wonderful cycle of life - is secured.
Looking at them I see life in both moments and years. In the spiral helix of their DNA I find connections to the past. In their eyes, I see only possibilities and hope for the future. By uniquely blending my past with their future, my position in posterity - in this wonderful cycle of life - is secured.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
When Lucas was about 14, Kenny Loggins released Return to Pooh Corner, a new version of his old song which included a chorus added after the birth of his son. Even before I had grandchildren I could never listen to that song without it tugging on my heartstrings. But never more than now...
It's hard to explain how a few precious things
Seem to follow throughout all our lives
After all's said and done I was watching my son
Sleeping there with my bear by his side
So I tucked him in, I kissed him and as I was going
I swear that the old bear whispered "Boy welcome home"
Believe me if you can
I've finally come back
To the House at Pooh Corner by one
What do you know
There's so much to be done
Count all the bees in the hive
Chase all the clouds from the sky
Back to the days of Christopher Robin
Back to the ways of Christopher Robin
Back to the days of Pooh
Seem to follow throughout all our lives
After all's said and done I was watching my son
Sleeping there with my bear by his side
So I tucked him in, I kissed him and as I was going
I swear that the old bear whispered "Boy welcome home"
Believe me if you can
I've finally come back
To the House at Pooh Corner by one
What do you know
There's so much to be done
Count all the bees in the hive
Chase all the clouds from the sky
Back to the days of Christopher Robin
Back to the ways of Christopher Robin
Back to the days of Pooh
Robin, have you ever thought of writing to publish? I know you are wise and a wiz with words but putting the two together is a gift you hold. Thank you for sharing and putting emotions into words that I have not been able to express. My words to you, "Beautifully said".
ReplyDeleteHi Carolyn. Thank you so much for your kind words - so encouraging to me. My plan for this blog was to write a year's worth of 'keepsake' stories to be bound into a book at the end of the year. Kind of a Memory Book...you know? It tickles me pink if anybody else enjoys my stories :o) Love you, Robin
ReplyDeleteVery Good Plan. :)
ReplyDelete