The Story of Ferdinand

Author: Munro Leaf
Illustrator: Robert Lawson

The Story of Ferdinand is the much beloved story (one of my childhood and current day favorites) about a peaceful bull. While his peers indulge in the machismo-soaked culture of bull fighting, Ferdinand just wants to "sit just quietly and smell the flowers". His pacifist approach to life eventually leads the bullfighters to leave him be.

While the story itself is very uplifting, the illustrations throughout the story are surprisingly sprinkled with melancholy images of death. Take this image for example:





"As the years went by Ferdinand grew and grew until he was very big and strong."










Notice the vulture (nature's harbinger of death) perched atop the hollowed tree stump. Ferdinand may be growing big and strong, but in the end, the unforgiving embrace of death awaits him... as it awaits us all. Each successive day is another tick of the clock measuring our steady march towards the grave.

Look closer and you will see vultures appearing throughout Lawson's illustrations; mounted on a sign to Madrid, quietly observing the bull fights... death is waiting around every corner.

One's natural reaction is to question Lawson's sanity... why put in these disturbing images in a book for kids?! What is your deal, you sick, sick, man?! But if you take a moment to pause and consider it... death is not inherently disturbing, it's just a fact. It is only inappropriate if you are afraid to face the inescapable reality of death, which is in fact deluding yourself. Perhaps it is best to be honest with children and subtly introduce them to the unavoidable nature of their eventual demise.

As a wise man once said, "The day you first realize that your life has an end, is the day your life truly begins."

(Note: The man who said this is now dead. I guess he proved his point.)

Ferdinand's hidden message is also a valuable lesson in the limitations of pacifist ideology. While his pacifist stance may save him from violent death in the bullfighting ring, it will not save Ferdinand from death itself. Which is a valuable lesson to learn for anyone considering a lucrative career in pacifism. It's not all flowers and rolling meadows, kids. I mean, look at some of history's most famous pacifists:

Martin Luther King Jr: Shot
Gandhi: Shot
John Lennon: Shot
Mother Theresa: Posthumously Skewered by Christopher Hitchens
Jesus Christ: Crucified
Siddartha Gautama: Poisoned by Bad Meat

My Word... who would knew pacifism could be so dangerous? For those of you who say pacifism is for sissies, think again!

...but at least Ferdinand ends on a positive note: with the image of a beautiful flower; the very thing that brought so much joy to Ferdinand's life; a symbol of peace... DYING. Seriously, on the book's final page (see below) sits a lone flower withering away, its dried petals falling from the stem of its long forgotten glory.




Even the most beautiful things eventually die.

Including You.

The End.

Sweet Dreams, Kiddo!

New Baby Train

Author: Woody Guthrie
Illustrator: Marla Frazee

With Areas of My Expertise, John Hodgman has seized the mantle as the most prominent Hobo Historian of our times and ushered in another Hobo Renaissance. While he does (when he's not selling Macs) briefly touch upon the idea of hobo reincarnation in his discussion of the hobo king, Joey Stink-Eye Smiles, New Baby Train further elucidates this mostly unknown component of hobo mythology.

Featuring illustrations by Marla "The Baby Master" Frazee, New Baby Train is based on a song written by Woody Guthrie, the legendary folksinger who spent his life on the road and recording songs about hobo life. (Ironically, Guthrie is hailed in the mainstream media as the Hobo Bard, but in the hobo community he was known merely as "that skinny guitar-playin' ninny who never shuts his yap.")

According to hobo mythology, once you die, you are reincarnated as a baby and taken by train to a new family. This is cosmologically convenient because hobo life is extremely intense and everyone eventually needs a rest... and what better way to rest than to become a baby? What is a baby but the ultimate freeloader, and what is childhood other than the ultimate layover?

So, hop on the New Baby Train and you are guaranteed at least a decade of free room and board. As a baby hobo, you get ample time to rejuvenate and regain your travelin' legs until the day comes when you put all your belongings in a sack and once again teeter off towards the next horizon.

Enlightenment Note: In Sanskrit, the Buddhist conception of the cycle of life and rebirth is called samsara, which loosely translates into hobo as "cradle-hopping". In Buddhism, the ultimate goal is to step out of this perpetual cycle of life and enter into Nirvana. Hoboism has a similar exit strategy. Once the soul is ready, you can choose not to ride the New Baby Train. All you have to do is upgrade your ticket to the Big Rock Candy Mountain Express. So, it's your choice: A glorious life of freedom on the road... or a land where hens lay soft-boiled eggs. Seems like an easy enough decision to me... assuming they have salt and pepper on Big Rock Candy Mountain.

I've Been Had Note: While working with infants at a family literacy program, I used to hum Guthrie's Hobo's Lullaby to help the restless ones fall asleep. At the time, I thought it was a matter of choice, that it was a neat song and one of the few lullabies that I could hum while still feeling somewhat hip (which is tough when you are covered in baby drool). Little did I know that the baby was really a reincarnated hobo who was using his hobo magic to telepathically request the song. I probably should have suspected something when the baby pulled out a flask of whisky at snack time... or by the fact that his facial hair was greasier and thicker than mine (not that that's saying much, since it takes me 5 weeks to grow a 5 o'clock shadow).

Oh well. I'm not the first to be duped by the wily ways of a reincarnated hobo baby. And I certainly won't be the last.

jellybeans

Author/Illustrator: Sylvia Van Ommen

George (a rabbit) and Oscar (cat) arrange to meet up in the park to share jellybeans. Their afternoon snack soon leads to a disarming discussion of the existence of heaven, as both characters express their anxieties about the great beyond. The key to Van Ommen's story is that she doesn't pretend to have any answers. Rather, she allows George and Oscar the luxury of their existential anxieties... which is much more refreshing than sweeping their worries under the rug with sugar-coated message. Jellybeans is ultimately optimistic, but does not dare to discount or dismiss the validity of uncertainty (and reasonable doses of quiet despair).

Possible sequels to jellybeans:

gummy bears: George and Oscar share an packet of gummy bears while discussing Purgatory. The story ends with a discussion of Pope Benedict's recent decision to reconsider the doctrine of "limbus infantum", which says that unbaptized babies go into Limbo.

peanut m&m's: While considering the concept of hell, George and Oscar decide that if they do happen to end up in a fiery afterlife, they would both bring m&m's because they melt in your mouth, not in your hand.

now & laters: George and Oscar are joined by their buddy Sid the Squirrel for a meditation session and a lesson on reincarnation.

brussel sprouts: The two friends meet up in the park only to realize that they both forgot to bring candy. This disappointing turn of events forces them to grapple with the possibility that there may not be an afterlife. Maybe religious doctrine has it all wrong. Maybe you die and you're dead, and that's all she wrote. The two friends are rudely interrupted when Christopher Hitchens pops out from behind a tree and drunkenly shouts, "Aha!" and then kicks Oscar in the head for good measure.

Work, Work, Work

Author/Illustrator: Daniel Quinn

If this name sounds oddly familiar, yes, it is that Daniel Quinn. This is the author that became famous during the early 90's for producing a number of thought-provoking novels, the most famous of which is Ishmael. (Admittedly, I never got around to reading it, but a lot of my friends did. I think it has something to do with a giant gorilla that uses his telepathic powers to steer a nuclear submarine that chases a renegade CIA agent posing as a white whale. I could be wrong... but I'm not.)

Here Quinn makes a partially successful leap to the world of picture books. His narrative ability remains as sharp as ever. The message of Work, Work, Work is that sometimes you're so busy working that you miss out on life. Strong stuff and consistent with the themes of his other books. His illustrations though... could use a little work (no pun intended). Quinn's artistic style can best be described as resembling an eight year old using Microsoft Paint for the first time while eating Sour Patch Kids dipped in LSD.

If you think I'm being harsh, I dare you to check the book out for yourself and tell me I'm wrong. But be forewarned: DO NOT, under any circumstances, lick either of the rainbow spaceships on page 17.

The Three Questions

Author/Illustrator: Jon J. Muth

An adaptation of a short story by Leo Tolstoy, this story follows Nikolai, a young boy trying to answer three of life's biggest questions: When is the best time to do things? Who is the most important one? What is the right thing to do? Young Nikolai has to climb a mountain, chase a turtle, and rescue some pandas before finding the answers. Sound like too much work for enlightenment? I thought so. Luckily you don't have to go through all that, because the answers are actually quite simple:

When is the best time to do things? After eating a hot dog.

Who is the most important one? The one who has those incriminating pictures of you from that regrettable night in college.

What is the right thing to do? Admit to the waitress that you are actually 27 and not 12, so technically you shouldn't be able to order from the Kid's Menu even though it's so much cheaper and all you want is a grilled cheese sandwich that doesn't cost $7.50.

I understand if you read the book anyways because you want Tolstoy's take on it... but I guarantee you, I'm not that far off! Tolstoy loved hot dogs and he lived for grilled cheese sandwiches. This is obvious to anyone who has seen the original manuscript of War and Peace, 75 percent of which is translucent due to grease stains.

Sibling Suggestion: My sister had a good suggestion: Collect people's answers to the Big 3 Questions! So (all 5 of you that read this blog), if you've got the time (and I know you do, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this), go to the comments section below and fill us in on your particular take on the meaning of life. Whoever has the best answers gets free backstage passes to Nirvana!