Bright Lights, Big City

When Connor was a toddler, a woman approached me at the park one day and asked if I had ever considered putting him in commercials or print work. Now, I thought all my children were the most beautiful babies ever and that Hollywood should come knocking at our door all the time, but I didn’t expect it to literally happen. Sort of. The woman in the park was from Sacramento, not Hollywood, but she did have a modeling agency and was interested in representing Connor--who, admittedly, was a really striking child. So, always thinking I should put my kids in magazines and movies but never considering the logistics of it, I had some pondering to do. Would it be a sound choice? Would he benefit from it? Was this tied up in my ego rather than something I would truly want for him, or he for himself? I decided to check the place out, bundling Connor and some head shots into the car and driving to the agency in Sacramento. But it was miserable--hot, crowded, one-way streets winding forever, and impossible to find the place. Once we were there and she saw Connor’s pictures, she said she could put him to work the next day, but most of the work would be in San Francisco and we’d have to commute there. Which was the end of Connor’s short modeling career. In Norman Bridwell’s Clifford Goes To Hollywood, the big, red dog tries the bright lights…but comes home in the end.

http://www.amazon.com/Clifford-Goes-Hollywood-Norman-Bridwell/dp/0590442899

http://www.kidsreads.com/authors/au-bridwell-norman.asp

On My Honor

I wanted to be a Cub Scout more than anything. My mom was a den mother and those boys did the coolest stuff. I tried Girl Scouts, but it was not the speed I was looking for. The boys did leather and beadwork, built birdhouses, and even set things on fire. They had the Pinewood Derby, the cake walk, and pack meetings with achievers in the spotlight. Best of all, they had uniforms where their badges, pins and patches were proudly displayed for everyone to see and admire. And envy. I REALLY wanted one of those. I lobbied passionately, but got denied firmly and permanently. It still bugs me a little, but then it was devastating. I knew I could do those things as well as any boy, better than some, and I didn’t think the reasoning of “you would have to wear pants” made any sense. And I was heartbroken at not getting to turn my Bobcat over. It works like this: Bobcat is the starting rank and each rank comes with a circle-shaped pin bearing the corresponding animal’s head. When you get your Bobcat pin, your dad turns you upside-down and holds you by your feet while your mom puts your pin on rightside up. Then, when you stand up, your Bobcat is upside down until you do a good deed and get to turn it. That idea really appealed to me. In Norman Bridwell’s Clifford’s Good Deeds, there are no pins, but things do get turned upside-down.

http://www.amazon.com/Cliffords-Good-Deeds-Norman-Bridwell/dp/0590442929

http://pbskids.org/clifford/index-brd-flash.html

Where Did You Come From?

If you read comic books or have seen a superhero movie in the last few years, you’re most likely familiar with origin stories--those tales of how a well-known character came to be. Some of the characters we feel attachment to rely heavily on their beginning as part of their narrative. For instance, we know in great detail what happened in the infancy of Harry Potter and his story depends on it. On the other hand, some characters spring to life fully formed and defined without much in the way of backstory. And sometimes that works just fine. We don’t need to know what Rocky did in second grade to understand his present-day egg-drinking, stair-running self. But, occasionally, we want to know more about what forces and events shaped a certain character, what brought them to now. The success of “Origins: Wolverine” and “The Dark Knight” would seem to support that idea. I would think creating an origin story would be tricky business--you have to be true to what has already existed while providing new detail that could be rejected. Especially if the character is a firmly established part of popular culture. Even more so if it is part of kid culture. It is the rare American child who is not familiar with Emily Elizabeth’s giant canine pal, Clifford, but one day Norman Bridwell decided to write Clifford The Small Red Puppy to let us in on what it was like when he first got here. Everybody has to start somewhere.

http://www.amazon.com/Clifford-Small-Puppy-Norman-Bridwell/dp/0590442945

http://www.readingrockets.org/books/interviews/bridwell

Sound Check

They say if it’s too loud, you’re too old. They don’t say too old for what, but whatever it is, I have to stop doing it. Despite a youthful craving for volume, everything is too loud now. The music they play at lunch on Friday at the junior high seems ear-piercing and the volume jumps during television commercials are excruciating. Energetic radio announcers are too loud in the morning and anything above conversational tones after dinnertime sets my teeth on edge. I am so desperate to lower the volume in my world that a lost remote makes me crazy and even led to attaching one of them to the coffee table with yarn. That’s how serious it is. Which really leads me to one question: How did I get here? Didn’t I crank the Mighty 690 when my parents weren’t home? Wasn’t I the girl who blasted Foreigner, Journey, and Styx? Not exactly head-banging stuff, but still it was at full volume. How did I become such a sound wimp? I’d hate to think it’s as cliché as getting older, but it might be. Those kids at school aren’t turning down the music. My kids at home aren’t diving for the mute button. So, age it must be. But, wait. Norman Bridwell’s Clifford’s Noisy Day tells the story of the big red dog as a tiny red puppy who gets a bit overwhelmed by all the sound in his day. Maybe I’m not getting older, the world’s just getting louder.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norman_Bridwell


http://www.amazon.com/Cliffords-Noisy-Day-Norman-Bridwell/dp/0590457373