Every good story begins with the phrase "Once upon a time...."
And even though the story's beginning may seem fairly bleak, there is always a happily ever after in story-telling land.
That just so happens to be where I reside... and suffer with a most persistent case of Storybookitis! They say this condition can linger for years and years and years! I certainly hope so!
I believe all of you friends out there might be a little curious how this whole "mouse" story came to be. As I began to search my memory...of my childhood and on into adulthood...the things that stood out became the pieces that would fit together, laying the foundation for the tale of Eliza ...the Mouse at Grammy's House. (I only regret there are no photos to share of the early days.)
Once upon a time....
...I was in 5th grade, in the 4th classroom that year. I had been moved from the 1st classroom to the 2nd classroom, most likely because of my reading level. I always struggled with reading comprehension. My family then made a move to Georgia, from Florida, in the middle of winter. I was enrolled in the school, there, and spent two months in that 3rd classroom. When we bought a home, in another school district, I entered the 4th classroom, 3rd school. (Are you still with me?) It was hard being a Christie, then. Ten years old, skinny, long hair, fairly shy, and very naive. It was 1972, and I had turned ten in the fall of 1971.
When I was at home, I was happy as a bird...flitting from one adventure to another, always creating a wonderland wherever I landed. Treehouses and the creek and the woods were the best places to play... building tiny log houses from sticks, with fresh green moss as carpeting... climbing trees to the top, until they swayed just a bit in the breeze... tucking away in a treehouse after crossing the creek and filling a canteen with water....dressing our puppy in doll clothes and wagging her around as my baby... days were never long enough.
School was another story, entirely. I dreaded every single day, and I couldn't wait for the bell to ring, signaling its end. I did not fit in with the other girls, especially the ones who were developing at a much faster rate. The boys were using words and terms I had never heard before. My ears were burning and I didn't even know what those things meant! They just sounded bad...I knew that much!
A certain boy became my nemesis straight away...Mike Whitlock. I have remembered his name all these years. The memories of that school year were not happy ones. This boy..in the 4th classroom of the 3rd school... made sure, every single day, to spread the word that he was going to beat me up after school. Of course, he never did, but I remained sick to my stomach..every.single.day.
One day, on the playground (we were now in 6th grade...me and this Mike Whitlock fella) he approached me with something in his hand. He said, "I found this and it made me think of you." Oh...I was speechless! He was actually being thoughtful! He opened his hand, and there was a lapel pin...a tiny golden mouse with a tiny green eye. I was already grinning, so completely taken by his kindness, looking at the sweet little thing in my hand, when he exclaimed, "It reminded me of you because you squeak like a mouse when you talk, 'Squeaky!' That's what we'll call you...'Squeaky'...like a mouse!"
If he had punched me right in the stomach, I could not have felt worse. I walked away, clutching that
tiny pin in my hand..."Squeaky" ringing in my ears.
Fast Forward....20 years or so...
It is 1994, and I have just received my B.S. degree (at 32 years of age). I walk into a classroom full of 5th graders...as their teacher....determined to be the champion of those who feel awkward, shy, timid, naive.
I stood in front of the sea of faces and held up that lapel pin...that tiny golden mouse with the green eye. It had remained hidden away in a jewelry box, all those twenty years, until now, on this first day of school...this first day that I was a teacher of children in the 5th grade..
I shared my story. I shared my heart. I offered the little pin as a badge of courage, to any student having a difficult day, to any student feeling sick with anxiety, to any student feeling picked on.
Every day, it seemed, a forlorn little face would show itself at my desk. Sometimes a tear or two ...
They needed the mouse.... Quietly, my desk drawer was opened, and gingerly the pin was placed in their hand (more often than not, they'd allow me the honor of attaching the pin to their collar) They wore it proudly...with renewed confidence... and returned the shiny creature at the end of the school day.
I don't recall when the mouse disappeared...but suddenly it was gone. Maybe it had traveled home on a little dress or a shirt or a sweater ... Maybe it went through the laundry and was lost... Maybe it went missing on the playground... I will never know.
Fast Forward...another 20 years..
I receive a mouse making kit and guide from a dear sister-in-law....
You know that story, don't you?
Fast Forward...Spring 2014 ...20 years has passed since I began teaching, with a tiny mouse pin in my hand..40 years has passed since I received the tiny mouse...
and I have shared the mouse pin story with a dear dear friend....who happens to have been the mother of one of my students in that first class of mine, in 1994.
I arrive at her home, with my clothes and pillow and books and Eliza Mouse....prepared to spend the weekend back and forth from her home to a barnsale in a neighboring town.
She has been to a thrift/yard sale. She has found a tiny lapel pin. It isn't golden, even though she has searched diligently for one matching the description, but it is a darling thing. It is a silvery mouse, with tiny glasses upon her nose, and she sparkles. She is for me, my friend says, as we hug, and I squeal...not so much like a little squeaky mouse..but as a grown up, who is full of joy!
I wear glasses upon my nose, and I've grown to embrace the sparkly inside of me...You know...that bubbly smiling happiness that rises to the top and spills out all over friends and family and strangers (who are just new friends in waiting:)
I'm not quite ready to embrace the silvery hairs, but there will be plenty of time for that!
Here is where the story has a happily ever after...
I want to thank you, Mike Whitlock...wherever you are....for gifting me with that tiny golden mouse with the green eye. You played a significant role in who I am today. I am thankful that I can look back on that incident and choose to illuminate the good that was in you...instead of retaining what I thought was all bad....the part of you that decided to give... instead of throw aside.
In that awkward stage of life, you had not yet acquired the skills to know how to be a friend to me...a skinny awkward naive little girl from another state..another school...another accent...
Through that experience I became aware of how to encourage the awkward boys in my first class of 5th graders, how to understand their difficulty expressing feelings and relay that to the traumatized little girls, who had no idea how to express their feelings ..and relay that back to the traumatized little boys....to realize there is no getting around being 10 years old. It's just hard, whether you're a skinny long-legged little girl or a boy with rosey cheeks and a terribly stubborn cowlick.
I realized that my story came to be very similar to the little mouse I created and named Eliza..I can tell you're not so surprised;)
I thought you friends needed to know the story behind the story...behind the story...
My passion has grown, through these last few years of writing and illustrating storybooks. My hope continues... to ease the awkwardness, the unfairness, the anguish that comes with childhood, and to encourage joy, discovery, creating, imaginative play... These little ones of ours can't get too much!
Now, go outside and play...or twirl through the kitchen...or eat a freezer pop...open up a new box of crayons and color...
...and most of all, illuminate the good in the "Mike Whitlocks" of the world.
*****************************************************
My little Mac Book is up and running now, and as soon as I can figure out how to upload photos without great difficulty, I will catch up on my posting, for I do have photos of the new sparkly pin:)
Thank you my dear friend, Bonnie Cecil, for searching and finding such a treasure. I love you!
Please find me on Facebook (Christie Jones Ray), Instagram (morning_gloree), Pinterest,
YouTube (channel: Rose Water Cottage Press) videos of me reading my books, with more to come...including a mouse-making tutorial.
Look for my latest book, Eliza Visits Martha's Vineyard, released Spring 2014. Contact me if you'd like a personalized autographed copy at:
christieray07@yahoo.com
Blessings
And even though the story's beginning may seem fairly bleak, there is always a happily ever after in story-telling land.
That just so happens to be where I reside... and suffer with a most persistent case of Storybookitis! They say this condition can linger for years and years and years! I certainly hope so!
I believe all of you friends out there might be a little curious how this whole "mouse" story came to be. As I began to search my memory...of my childhood and on into adulthood...the things that stood out became the pieces that would fit together, laying the foundation for the tale of Eliza ...the Mouse at Grammy's House. (I only regret there are no photos to share of the early days.)
Once upon a time....
...I was in 5th grade, in the 4th classroom that year. I had been moved from the 1st classroom to the 2nd classroom, most likely because of my reading level. I always struggled with reading comprehension. My family then made a move to Georgia, from Florida, in the middle of winter. I was enrolled in the school, there, and spent two months in that 3rd classroom. When we bought a home, in another school district, I entered the 4th classroom, 3rd school. (Are you still with me?) It was hard being a Christie, then. Ten years old, skinny, long hair, fairly shy, and very naive. It was 1972, and I had turned ten in the fall of 1971.
When I was at home, I was happy as a bird...flitting from one adventure to another, always creating a wonderland wherever I landed. Treehouses and the creek and the woods were the best places to play... building tiny log houses from sticks, with fresh green moss as carpeting... climbing trees to the top, until they swayed just a bit in the breeze... tucking away in a treehouse after crossing the creek and filling a canteen with water....dressing our puppy in doll clothes and wagging her around as my baby... days were never long enough.
School was another story, entirely. I dreaded every single day, and I couldn't wait for the bell to ring, signaling its end. I did not fit in with the other girls, especially the ones who were developing at a much faster rate. The boys were using words and terms I had never heard before. My ears were burning and I didn't even know what those things meant! They just sounded bad...I knew that much!
A certain boy became my nemesis straight away...Mike Whitlock. I have remembered his name all these years. The memories of that school year were not happy ones. This boy..in the 4th classroom of the 3rd school... made sure, every single day, to spread the word that he was going to beat me up after school. Of course, he never did, but I remained sick to my stomach..every.single.day.
One day, on the playground (we were now in 6th grade...me and this Mike Whitlock fella) he approached me with something in his hand. He said, "I found this and it made me think of you." Oh...I was speechless! He was actually being thoughtful! He opened his hand, and there was a lapel pin...a tiny golden mouse with a tiny green eye. I was already grinning, so completely taken by his kindness, looking at the sweet little thing in my hand, when he exclaimed, "It reminded me of you because you squeak like a mouse when you talk, 'Squeaky!' That's what we'll call you...'Squeaky'...like a mouse!"
If he had punched me right in the stomach, I could not have felt worse. I walked away, clutching that
tiny pin in my hand..."Squeaky" ringing in my ears.
Fast Forward....20 years or so...
It is 1994, and I have just received my B.S. degree (at 32 years of age). I walk into a classroom full of 5th graders...as their teacher....determined to be the champion of those who feel awkward, shy, timid, naive.
I stood in front of the sea of faces and held up that lapel pin...that tiny golden mouse with the green eye. It had remained hidden away in a jewelry box, all those twenty years, until now, on this first day of school...this first day that I was a teacher of children in the 5th grade..
I shared my story. I shared my heart. I offered the little pin as a badge of courage, to any student having a difficult day, to any student feeling sick with anxiety, to any student feeling picked on.
Every day, it seemed, a forlorn little face would show itself at my desk. Sometimes a tear or two ...
They needed the mouse.... Quietly, my desk drawer was opened, and gingerly the pin was placed in their hand (more often than not, they'd allow me the honor of attaching the pin to their collar) They wore it proudly...with renewed confidence... and returned the shiny creature at the end of the school day.
I don't recall when the mouse disappeared...but suddenly it was gone. Maybe it had traveled home on a little dress or a shirt or a sweater ... Maybe it went through the laundry and was lost... Maybe it went missing on the playground... I will never know.
Fast Forward...another 20 years..
I receive a mouse making kit and guide from a dear sister-in-law....
You know that story, don't you?
Fast Forward...Spring 2014 ...20 years has passed since I began teaching, with a tiny mouse pin in my hand..40 years has passed since I received the tiny mouse...
and I have shared the mouse pin story with a dear dear friend....who happens to have been the mother of one of my students in that first class of mine, in 1994.
I arrive at her home, with my clothes and pillow and books and Eliza Mouse....prepared to spend the weekend back and forth from her home to a barnsale in a neighboring town.
She has been to a thrift/yard sale. She has found a tiny lapel pin. It isn't golden, even though she has searched diligently for one matching the description, but it is a darling thing. It is a silvery mouse, with tiny glasses upon her nose, and she sparkles. She is for me, my friend says, as we hug, and I squeal...not so much like a little squeaky mouse..but as a grown up, who is full of joy!
I wear glasses upon my nose, and I've grown to embrace the sparkly inside of me...You know...that bubbly smiling happiness that rises to the top and spills out all over friends and family and strangers (who are just new friends in waiting:)
I'm not quite ready to embrace the silvery hairs, but there will be plenty of time for that!
Here is where the story has a happily ever after...
I want to thank you, Mike Whitlock...wherever you are....for gifting me with that tiny golden mouse with the green eye. You played a significant role in who I am today. I am thankful that I can look back on that incident and choose to illuminate the good that was in you...instead of retaining what I thought was all bad....the part of you that decided to give... instead of throw aside.
In that awkward stage of life, you had not yet acquired the skills to know how to be a friend to me...a skinny awkward naive little girl from another state..another school...another accent...
Through that experience I became aware of how to encourage the awkward boys in my first class of 5th graders, how to understand their difficulty expressing feelings and relay that to the traumatized little girls, who had no idea how to express their feelings ..and relay that back to the traumatized little boys....to realize there is no getting around being 10 years old. It's just hard, whether you're a skinny long-legged little girl or a boy with rosey cheeks and a terribly stubborn cowlick.
I realized that my story came to be very similar to the little mouse I created and named Eliza..I can tell you're not so surprised;)
I thought you friends needed to know the story behind the story...behind the story...
My passion has grown, through these last few years of writing and illustrating storybooks. My hope continues... to ease the awkwardness, the unfairness, the anguish that comes with childhood, and to encourage joy, discovery, creating, imaginative play... These little ones of ours can't get too much!
Now, go outside and play...or twirl through the kitchen...or eat a freezer pop...open up a new box of crayons and color...
...and most of all, illuminate the good in the "Mike Whitlocks" of the world.
*****************************************************
My little Mac Book is up and running now, and as soon as I can figure out how to upload photos without great difficulty, I will catch up on my posting, for I do have photos of the new sparkly pin:)
Thank you my dear friend, Bonnie Cecil, for searching and finding such a treasure. I love you!
Please find me on Facebook (Christie Jones Ray), Instagram (morning_gloree), Pinterest,
YouTube (channel: Rose Water Cottage Press) videos of me reading my books, with more to come...including a mouse-making tutorial.
Look for my latest book, Eliza Visits Martha's Vineyard, released Spring 2014. Contact me if you'd like a personalized autographed copy at:
christieray07@yahoo.com
Blessings