Papa’s Guided Tour
Through Imagination

Mud Puddles and Dandelions
by anonymous

When I look at a patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of weeds that are going to take over my yard; My kids see flowers for Mom and blowing white fluff you can wish on.

When I look at an old drunk and he smiles at me I see a smelly, dirty person who probably wants money and I look away. My kids see someone smiling at them and they smile back.

When I hear music I love, I know I can't carry a tune and don't have much rhythm so I sit self-consciously and listen. My kids feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the words, if they don't know them, they make up their own.

When I feel wind on my face, I brace myself against it. I feel it messing up my hair and pulling me back when I walk. My kids close their eyes, spread their arms and fly with it, until they fall to the ground laughing.

When I pray, I say thee and thou and grant me this, and give me that. My kids say, "Hi God! Thanks for my toys and my friends. Please keep the bad dreams away tonight. Sorry, I don't want to go to Heaven yet. I would miss my Mommy and Daddy."

When I see a mud puddle, I step around it. I see muddy shoes and dirty carpets. My kids sit in it. They see dams to build, rivers to cross and worms to play with.

I wonder if we are given children to teach or to learn from? No wonder God loves the little children!!!

"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things."


February 11, 2002:

I am eager to develop an informal arts program-of-sorts for my boys. I want to nurture creativity for my children, so that they might employ skills and talent and genius which their father might have passed on to them, but who did not have the stamina-opportunities-guidance to exploit them earlier in life.

At the same time I want to learn myself. My initial idea is to introduce-explore-employ a new medium each month/week. And I want to make it an unadulterated-uninhibited adventure of discovery which might pass through the valleys and mountains of writing, through the sunflower field of painting, to renaissance puppetry (I am planning to build a puppet theater in the playroom - basement - already have the stars and moon curtains and l-shaped shower rod-pipe - previously employed to partition the kitchen and bedroom in the old apartment. I also have half a dozen puppets, which when asked what I wanted for my birthday - I answered "puppets for the kids" and my sister-in-law kindly indulged my whim with a King-Queen-Hansel & Gretel combo). I also want to just create - take the bag of old plastic random parts I have been hoarding and build toys like rocket and spaceships. I want to create collages and learn how to preserve them. Build frames. I want to (them) be esemplastic (es-em-PLAS-tik) (adjective - having the capability of moulding diverse ideas or things into unity).

Moreover, I want to keep a journal, chronicling our artistic development.