You Scarecrow, I Will Miss You Most of All

I remember watching The Wizard of Oz every year. I don’t remember the time of year it aired, but it was something we all looked forward to. It was in an age where you actually had to wait to see something, you couldn’t pause it or rewind it, and recording it was just a little too technologically fancy.

Recently, I was driving to Massachusetts with my friend Julie and we were gabbing about a myriad of things. This always happens when we are together – the content list of our conversations always has great range. She mentioned that she and her husband, Cory and daughter, Nola had just seen The Wizard of Oz in Boston at the Wang. “What was the line that you remember most from the movie?” she asked. Immediately the “You Scarecrow, I will miss you most of all” line came to mind. I’m not sure if those are the exact words. But I know that they are the exact gist. We laughed because those words stuck in her mind as well.

Why do certain things stay with us while others don’t? Something must resonate on a certain subconscious level. It is possible that in my young and now not-so-young mind that the idea that Dorothy would miss them unequally seemed a bit unfair? Why would she miss him most? What about the Tin Man? After all he was looking for a heart. And what about the Lion? He was all fluffy and needy. Was it okay that she said that? Did she hurt the feelings of the others?

I later googled the movie to see if there were any interesting tidbits about that line. It so happens that in the original screenplay, the farmhand that played the scarecrow was going to be a romantic interest. The Scarecrow, who reappears as Hunk when she wakes up from her dream, was originally going to tell her that he was going to  agricultural college and would ask her to write to him while he was away, thus alluding to a future relationship. But, for some reason, that never made it into the movie, leaving us sensitive viewers wondering.

Could it be that in the 1900’s you could say things like that and people would just smile and not be offended? Am I delving into this a little too much? I’m interested to hear what you think.

The Wizard of Oz was so magical to me as a child. The idea of falling asleep and waking up in a strange but beautiful land just seemed amazing. Escaping seemed just grand. Interestingly enough, the producers of the film thought that the audience of 1939 wasn’t ready for a fantasy film of this caliber, and that is why it all ended up being a dream, when in Baum’s book, it was not.

We have yet to watch The Wizard of Oz as a family. Lare tells me that it is not his favorite. But I am anxious to see what Lilly thinks of it. I wonder what she will notice most, as she wraps her almost 9-year old mind around it. Will she notice the favoritism? Will she care? I will report back.

Missing Scarecrow and the others…

Allison

PS: I will admit to never reading The Wizard of Oz: I only watched the movie. I did read  Wicked by Gregory Maguire. (I included a free link for you.) This is an amazing look at Oz through the eyes of the witch. I highly recommend it.

 

 

I don’t love you any more

Yes, those very words came out of the cherub’s mouth. But punctuated…I…DON’T…LOVE….YOU…ANY…..MORE! I was slightly crushed – but she’s two – what does she know about love anyway? I was upset enough to corner Kelly at work and tell her about it. She looked at me with absolutely no surprise (I was expecting “oh the horror”) and said yes, yes, that happens – period.

Humph – no drama? How about that.

Lilly didn’t know what she was saying. She was yelling it at me as I put her down for a nap. My very first reaction was to scream back – “I don’t love you either!” (so there!) But I caught myself – (Who is the toddler here?) And said to her – “Well, guess what? I LOVE you!” and I drew the words out so that it sounded like this –  Eye Luuuuuuuuve Yeeeeewwww! She giggled and spat her former words at me once again. I shrugged and said sleep tight and walked down the stairs.

Funny how words affect us. Rationally – it was just funny and silly. But emotionally, words hurt, even if they really are fluff. Sometimes we forget that the things that slip out of our mouths have such an impact on the person they are being delivered too~

Lilly – I will love you always. nah nah nah nah nah

Worrying about whole grapes

My mother said: “When you are a parent you never stop worrying.” She said that to me about 6 years ago. I scoffed at that then, not being a parent myself. A year later I discovered that she was right when I became ill and regretably added about 10 years to her life. Now I am a parent and I can tell you that since July 14, 2007 I have not stopped worrying. What I find interesting is not WHY we worry, but WHAT we worry about. How is it that some things stick in our minds and we focus on them. What do you worry about most? I would love to know what the triggers are from my circle of relatives and friends. Here is my Achilles…

Grapes. Okay, not so much the cute little globes of red and green, but the whole choking hazard. Grapes  give me the “shivers” (Graciously borrowed from J. Irving). For some reason I have always worried about Lilly choking on a grape. So imagine this scenario…

My friend Annette and Rob just had their third child – an adorable little girl named Lucy. The day after she arrived, Lilly and Lawrence and Mom-mom and I headed to the hospital to see how the family was faring. We walked into a full house – Rob and Jack and George and Conner and Dana and our dear friend Shawna (all the way from Seattle) with Annette in bed holding Lucy looking more like she just hopped off the beach then she just had a baby. (I mean it, she really looked that good – how do these women do that? – but I digress)  So, holding the baby, gabbing with friends and family, watching Lilly and the boys, general comotion ensued. A box of donuts on the tabled called to LG, though I didn’t want Lilly to eat those so Annette said she had some fruit that she could give Lilly – forever the hostess even in a hospital gown! I nodded and started to coo over Lucy. All of a sudden I froze. Annette was giving Lilly grapes. WHOLE grapes. I thought I was going to pass out. And she was so calm about it. How could she so calmly give Lilly those whole grapes? “Here you go Lilly” she was saying, “feel how they pop in your mouth when you bite into them? Yummy!” “Here you go, you can have another – mmmm, juicy”

I walked over and looked at Annette – she looked up at me. She could tell I was stressed – knowing a little of my grape fear. “She’s okay Allison”  Annette was right. Lilly was okay and she is okay. And she loved those little red grapes and she was smiling and there was juice dribbling down her chin. What did I have to worry about? There were seven competent adults in that room and for goodness sake, I was in a hospital – could there be a more ideal grape eating venue?

Will I ever stop worrying about grapes? Who knows – but if you see me cutting them in half for Lilly in about 5 years – please coordinate an intervention!

Back to my earlier question – what do you worry about?

Dogs and Angels

While Lilly was eating breakfast in her high chair this morning, she said to me – what’s that noise? She likes to say this and says it often – it drives all of us a bit crazy, since sometimes she is so intent on an explanation that we fervently listen for whatever it is she hears, and at times, most times in fact, we simply give up or create something just to provide her with that answer. So today I listened with her and said, “I don’t know, what do you think it is” She listened some more and then said “Doggies.”  I agreed and said that Baxter and Daisy were outside and that indeed they were barking. Then, just for kicks, I asked her what they were barking at. “Angels” she replied matter-of-factly. “Angels? The dogs are barking at angels?” “Yes, at angels.”  I was puzzled so I continued. “Are you sure? Are you sure that the dogs are barking at angels?” She was certain. I then asked her who told her that the dogs barked at angels. “Daddy.”  Hmmmm. Just then Lawrence walked into the room and I asked Lilly to tell him what the dogs were doing. She told him and then I asked her again who told her this and she said the same thing. “Daddy”. “So did you tell her that?” I queried. “Nope” said Lawrence. But Lilly was not budging on her resolve. Just for kicks I asked her once again, and she simply nodded, smiled and said “Daddy” again.

I don’t really care who told her this. All I know is that if the dogs are barking and they are really barking at angels, then I am glad that we have so many around our house and so often!! How lucky are we?