...take the time to release your inner child. If you want to be creative, stay in part a child, with the creativity and invention that characterizes children before they are deformed by adult society. ~Jean Piaget
0 Comments
My mother claims I was mischievous and had a very active imagination as a child.
Mama always made sure the latest in Barbie doll fashion and the figures themselves where available to me. I was unimpressed. The hour-glass figures and clothes where unlike the matronly, stoic, ladies I encountered at church or quiltings. The latter had warm, solid arms, capable of "making the hurt go away" when I fell and my mother's embrace wasn't available. Barbie always had the same leering look, and hands that could poke an eye out if the user tried to hug her. All of this made playing with action figures low on my list of "Things to do Before I'm Old" ("old" was 21). Instead I tied Barbies to guy friends' model rockets, swearing later to Mama, "Barbie really wanted to be an astronaut." I dressed baby chickens in doll clothes and had tea parties with them. Imagine Mama's surprise when she caught me eating "Purina Chick Starter" and sharing a water dish with a rooster. I'm told my antics followed me to school as well. In kindergarten, I demanded a schoolmate marry me because he had unwittingly shared my pencil. We were wed that afternoon in front of the school's entrance. A fellow classmate officiated it. I understand he's now a judge--gives me a warm feeling to know I helped spark his interest at such an early age. In third grade I believed "Wonder Woman" had donated her powers to me, and I could take flight off the top of the jungle gym--the very top. The result was several bumps scratches, and a rushed trip to the family doctor. "You're lucky, kiddo," Dr. Simms had said, peering over the top of his glasses. "Your bones must be made out of rub..." He was silenced with a look and a frantic head shake from my mother. Years later, when my younger boy was a toddler, he attempted to play connect-the-dots on our Dalmatian...with a magic marker. Just the other day, he announced the broom's name was "Sam", and forced me to apologize it because I was using it to roughly. I have no idea where he gets such an imagination. Do you? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you’re interested in hearing a slightly nasal, twangy, Texas accent, then tune in to Marsha Cook’s internet radio show, ”A Good Story is a Good Story”, this Friday: 1 PM Eastern; 12 PM Central; and 11 AM Mountain. The guests are Kiki Howell, Rosemary McKinley, and me (I’ll be the one with the Texas accent). We’ll be discussing our books and what’s in the future for each of us. Here’s the link: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/worldofinknetwork/2011/11/18/a-good-tsory-is-a-good-story–host-marsha-cook |
A little info about me... Award-winning author (and sometimes illustrator) Debbie Roppolo grew up in the Blackland Prairie region of Texas, where miles of grassland and her horse stimulated very imaginative adventures and served as writing fodder for later years. She had to do something with those memories; having tea parties with chickens was too good to keep to herself.
Archives
November 2017
Categories
All
|