Way-Back Wednesdays

Today I bring you the second installment of Way-Back Wednesdays, my new blog series in which I review the contents of a box of books I was recently given, with a new book re-read and reviewed each week. This box is oddly random, a strange assortment from my childhood bedroom with little semblance of logic or order. Books from a series, with various titles in said series absent, chapter books from elementary school along with Shakespeare and Ray Bradbury—odd indeed, but should make for some fun over the coming weeks (months, even).

In selecting titles for review, I’ve utilized the very scientific practice of closing my eyes, reaching in the box, and grabbing a book.

And now to this week’s selection:

Little Witch, by Anna Elizabeth Bennett.

This is a chapter book I recall reading quite a few times around age eight. The copyright is 1953, and it definitely reads that way—plenty of cigar smoking, calling females “sis,” and vaguely sexist, fear-inducing authority figures. This is a bit of an odd read, but still kind of fun.  And there’s plenty of nostalgia, as I do remember how much I liked it as a kid.

It is the story of a young girl, Minikin, who has the great misfortune of being the daughter of an ill-tempered witch. Madam Snickasee, aforementioned witch, goes out each night, gallivanting about on her broomstick and working her black magic, while poor Minikin (Minx, for short) is stuck at home making Black Spell Brew and trying to find a way to conjure up a fairy.

Story of my life.

Many of the neighborhood children have gone missing, having fallen victim to the sorcery of Madam Snickasee. Any child who dared cross her was turned into a flowerpot and stuck in her windowsill. And the flowers have faces, people. FACES.

See?

Fortunately for the children, Minx has taken it upon herself to tend to the botanical kids, making sure they get plenty of water and sunshine.

Madam Snickasee sleeps through the days (what is she doing at night?), not stirring from dawn to dusk. Yet, oddly, she is not a vampire. Not even a sparkly one.

Unsupervised, Minx decides it is best to enroll herself in school (because what kid wouldn’t, right?) and meets a new friend, who takes in the poor, unkempt, underfed child.

After several run-ins with various threatening adults—the head of the PTA, a private investigator, the school principal—things get a bit treacherous for poor Minx. That private investigator is getting mighty suspicious about those missing kids, and as it turns out, she could be jailed for practicing witchcraft! No mention of burning at the stake, so at least she’s got that going for her.

Fear not, dear reader. You will be relieved to know it all works out in the end. Madam Snickasee is turned into an anteater (no, really) while answering charges of witchcraft in a courtroom, and Minx finds out she is actually the daughter of a fairy. Win, win.

Oh, sorry. Should have posted spoiler warnings.

I hope you can forgive me.

Ride Like the Wind

My son turned four last month, and he has recently fallen in love with the idea of getting a “big boy” bike. In other words, step aside tricycle! Spring is coming, and that trike is so last season.

We took him to the store a few days ago (evil big box retailer once again. We are weak. Weak, I tell you!), and let him try out a few, to see what size would be the best fit. Unless you have kids, you probably don’t realize that little kid bikes come in several sizes. We were quick to learn he’s in the 16” frame market. And they had Spider Man! Cue happy kid (and happier Dad!).

As we were busy corralling him so he wouldn’t take off down the aisles on “HIS” new bike—explaining he’d have to wait to see if maybe the Easter Bunny would bring him one is a whole ‘nother story—I took note of how blissfully stable the training wheel setup was. And I got jealous of the safe, fun way in which he’ll get to learn to ride.

A little.

When I was a kid, learning to ride a bike, even with training wheels, was a bit…terrifying.

Why is that, you may ask? Oh, you silly youngsters.

Not to age myself, but I have no choice if I’m going to explain this properly. You see, when I learned to ride a bike in the magical year of 1979 (I was in kindergarten. Yeah, I’m old. Get over it.), training wheels weren’t the lovely, stable, smooth, run flat on the ground support enjoyed by kids today (and kids since sometime in the early 80s, I believe).

No, our training wheels rode a couple of inches off the ground. The idea was you’d learn balance, but the wheels would catch you so you wouldn’t actually fall. This resulted in an odd combination of elation and terror. A feeling of panic grabbing your heart as you tilted first to the left and then to the right, your heart racing as the training wheels caught you at the last possible second before certain death. Panic and blind fear. That’s the way to learn, man!

“I’m doing it! I’m riding a bike!”

“AAAHHH! I’m gonna die!”

“Yes! The wheels caught me! I’m INVINCIBLE!”

This range of emotions would span a period of mere seconds, repeated on a continuous loop until you a) learned to ride a bike b) said “Screw this! I’m going inside to watch The Love Boat!” or c) gave up and rode a Big Wheel for another year.

And we didn’t have helmets.

But we did get to ride bikes with banana seats. And there is something to be said for accomplishment gained through terror. It’s more meaningful to overcome than to never have really faced adversity. We conquered our fears. Not to say it won’t be a little scary once the training wheels come off, but to have no fear of falling before they do? I think you miss out on something.

And did I mention we got banana seats? Suck on that, new millennium!