Thought for the Week
The Legend: The sun hung like an ambered jewel betwixt the clouds as Prince Mitch hacked his way into the Dandelion Forest. Legion were those that stood against him, beyond counting the blades he faced. Yet all that affronted him he struck down, his own blade whirling. “Got you! Got you!” he shouted. And in response, the grateful peasants cried, “God bless you, sir!'”
The Reality: I mowed yesterday. The self-propel function was broken, and the mower resisted my every step. Plus, I’d let the grass grow too long, so my allergies were out of control. I repeatedly sneezed, “Gachoo! Gachoo!” and the neighbors kept shouting, “God bless you!”
There’s some something to be said for mythologizing yourself. “When the legend becomes fact,” a newspaper editor advises in the classic western The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, “print the legend.” Why?
Because myths bring truth to the surface.
My wife Trudy once worked for a private investigation firm. Because of her research skills, she was put on a case that required a year of mind-numbing data crunching. But in the end, they were able to expose a massive ponzi scheme: a multi-state string of fake dry cleaners run by a twenty-year-old flimflam man. When the story hit the headlines, it read like an edge-of-the-seat thriller. False? Well, yes and no. The work had been ponderously slow. Nevertheless, in the end they’d routed out a sleazy little mole and rescued the life savings of thousands of people. So, truth. My wife was, in fact, a hero. A slow-motion hero, but a hero nevertheless.
My daughters’ childhood bedroom was a magic portal, a place where stories came to life. I can still see their eyes shining like lanterns as I told them improvised “Princess Amanda and Elizabeth” stories at bedtime (which later evolved into a fantasy novel The Wishing Map), and as their mother and I sang them to sleep. And when they played (we listened at the door), their room became a mysterious island, a flying ship, Dickensian London (our daughters were first class ragamuffins).
Was it truly a magical place? Yes and no. There were times my stories fell flat or the girls were cranky, or when they were restless and refused to stay in bed.
And yet today they are both gifted imagineers who share a deep beyond-birth-bond founded in countless fanciful adventures. And when they talk about that time, their eyes still shine like lanterns. And so do their mother’s and mine.
Yes, we’ve mythologized it, but I feel no shame in confessing this. Because the memory of that bedroom, enlarged by willful mythologizing, has pulled a deeper truth to the surface: it was, in fact, a place where deep bonds of love and courage were forged.
So mythologize yourself. Embrace your personal and familial legends, and you may just discover hope and strength to push on in discouraging times, or to burnish the good times. Yes, live the fact, but celebrate the legend. Because…
You are a legend!
Great idea!
Thanks, Joannie!
Prince Mitch, this is brilliant! It lifted my spirits so much! Princess Trudy truly cleaned up a mess and your darling tiny princess, was undoubtedly, a heroine in her own right. This gives me ideas for my little grands, too. They have such imaginations the oldest, Asher, and I always pretend we are on space missions. You are a legend, Mitch. Do you know that? Thank you for gifting us the “power” to create our own!
;>) Aw, thanks, Princess Karla!
It’s my pleasure!! :-)!
Fantastic idea. And wonderful anecdotes, Mitch. 👏👏
Thanks, Nigel!
My nonrancher hubby recently helped chase an escaped bull back into the corral on our riding lawn mower. This needeth not legendizing….it will be glorified in family history as is!
Epic, Rita! I’m picturing it now — in IMAX!
Quite inspiring.
I suppose it goes without saying that we want to be heroes in our family myths, and not villains?
That thought arose in a humorous vein… but then I realized how many unfortunate children are growing up in unfortunate settings, and its meaning changes.
Thank you for your great thoughts, and the reminder that the fantasies and legends we help our children construct, will influence the whole of their lives… and beyond.
Thanks for weighing in, Rob, and right you are–our personal legends will include villains, as well, and not all of them tongue-in-cheek ones like my overgrown grass. Children who are striving to overcoming adverse experiences, bullies, abusive adults, etc. are the heroes of their own stories. I’ve also known a few heroes who started out as bullies and struggled to change and become better human beings.
Oooo, I have chills. How you do that with your stories! Monday just won’t be the same, not that I’m a legend!
<3
I have long been a lover of books. They are my escape hatch from reality and the pain it brings. I never thought to make myself the hero of the story but maybe that is a good way to look at life. Be the hero you wish to see in the world around you. Thank you for your beautiful stories and words. They bring much joy even to adults like me 🙂
Delighted to hear that, Jenny.
Thanks for reminding me of the story times with my own daughters. Many precious moments.
I have found a use for the leftover COVID masks. I were one when mowing the lawn to eliminate the sneezing.
Brilliant! “Sir Robert closed the facemask of his helmet and boldly marched onto the field of battle…”
Prince Mitch mows the lawn, I love it. Kudos to your wife and her investigative skills!
Thanks, I’ll pass that on, Vera!
What a delightful childhood for your kids. Thanks for sharing that experience, Mitch.
My pleasure, Bob.
This is so wonderful and so true. You always are able to get right to the heart of the matter. I love especially love the part about your daughters’ bedroom. That’s the way I created my classrooms – portals to imagination and legend! Thank you, Mitch!
My privilege, Joanne!
Thanks for the reminder, Mitch!
A prayer request for you and your followers: a young friend, Robert, will be undergoing a kidney transplant on September 6. Please pray for the surgeon, the donor, the anesthesiologist, the operating room nurses, and all the countless other health care professionals that will be involved in making this procedure a success. 🙏🙏🙏
Will do, Gail.
Your blog is a good opportunity to share a related Albert Einstein quote: “Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”
Love that quote, Nancy.
I am the Stroke-Master! Six strokes and multiple TIAs under my belt and I still mowed my lawn (okay, it took me two days since the kid that usually does it went to Florida with friends) and drive my wife to her meetings and appointments; I set a washing machine vent right in a crawl space and drywall patched a friend’s wall, both with in the last month! I am a legend … in my own mind. (😂)
I stand in awe before you, sir!
VERY nicely done! 👌✨
Thank you, Ana!
Love this, Mitch! I bet you and Trudy are glad you allowed them to be themselves.
Our youngest daughter got married Saturday (outside in the 106 degrees Texas heat). As her older sister give her speech about their childhood hood memories, both of their faces lit up, and they connected in that moment. What you said here is so true “a place where deep bonds of love and courage were forged.” I am going to remember this blog as I watch my grandchildren. They are always in another world. I just love to listen.
I can just picture them as I read this, Mary (106 degree heat notwithstanding), and your grandchildren, as well. The legend continues!
This is so inspiring, Mitch.
Albert Einstein valued imagination as a source of creativity and progress, and the lovely thing about family legends is that it bonds the family members and creates wonderful memories.
It certainly does, Lesley.
Love this! We too had a princess elizabeth and prince robert. In our stories oukids would climb out of bed unbeknownst to their parents and crawl through the woodpile in the back yard to reach the magical kingdom. They just made sure to be back before morning. Lots of adventures!
A magical woodpile–I love it, Martha!
I’m not crying, you’re crying…
<3