Muses

Silly old bear. Or is it silly old me?

I wanted to take a field trip. The problem was I couldn’t find anyone to go with me.

Maybe if I had a school bus, sent home permission slips, provided neatly packed boxed lunches of chicken salad and fresh melon?

Let me back up.

Months ago I noticed the High Museum in Atlanta was hosting a traveling exhibit on Winnie-the-Pooh. The show consisted mainly of E.H. Shepard’s original sketches and correspondence between himself and A. A. Milne on how to bring Milne’s stories to life.

A few weeks ago, I realized the months had passed and the exhibit was set to move on from the High after September 2.

Curses!

The ticking time mother hath stolen another joyeth I wisheth to experience.

Or had she?

I could whip out my paring knife and carve out three hours to race to Atlanta and experience those drawings.

But when? And with whom?

Mom? No she rather hang by her toenails than drive into Atlanta. My visiting sister? No. Her visit was meticulously planned by my mother and surprise to no one that wasn’t on the agenda.

Ask a friend? Well, by the time I decided I must do this thing, all I had left was weekdays.

Most of my friends have commitments like work, children and making productive use of their time.

What woman has time to race into Atlanta for an hour to gaze upon ninety-year-old pencil scribbles?

Me.

And I’m so thankful I did ~ because these scribbles, unlike the countless trillions created by untold millions like me,  were absolute magic.

 

 

I loved reading of the creative collaboration between the two men. How Shepard visited the trees and woods where Christopher Milne played with his bear. How the trees in the illustrations are the trees in that forest.

 

 

How the original characters of Milne’s bedtime stories to his son were drawn resembling the stuffed animals from which they hath sprung.


 

That Owl and Rabbit were characters of Milne’s invention and therefore they were drawn realistically. The exhibit also suggested, “they were more adult-like than the others, considering themselves ‘wise’ and ‘importantly’ respectively.”

 

 

Maybe that was it?

Sometimes a wise and important adult need findeth the time to dash into the city.

A fleeting escape back to the world before life became wise or important — was indeed the wisest and most important thing after all.

Any Pooh peeps in the house?

 

           

           

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