The Meehoo and Exactlywatt
Today's Awesomeness:
Shel Silverstein
I grew up with Silverstein's books. I would sit next to my grandmother and beg her to read them to me. I would have all sorts of emotions listening to my grandmother recite his poems of the crazy babysitter who would sit upon a baby, or the chronicle resulting in the death of the Giving Tree. I would flip the book for hours, rereading poems, and staring at his artwork. Little did I know, that at the time, Silverstein was also known for his works in Playboy Magazine. Now how did he get away with that without causing an uproar? Double lives as a childrens' book author and a writer for Playboy. Was Mr. Falwell too busy with his fixation on young boys to notice?
I cannot recall a favorite poem but I give Silverstein credit for the development of my sense of humor. I do remember my grandmother's favorite poem "Whatif". Which goes like this...
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
Today's True Story:
After Drew Barrymore posed for Playboy in 1995, Steven Spielberg sent a note that said "cover yourself up" along with a quilt and a copy of the magazine with all her pictures altered so that she appeared fully clothed.
Now who is a party pooper.
Shel Silverstein
I grew up with Silverstein's books. I would sit next to my grandmother and beg her to read them to me. I would have all sorts of emotions listening to my grandmother recite his poems of the crazy babysitter who would sit upon a baby, or the chronicle resulting in the death of the Giving Tree. I would flip the book for hours, rereading poems, and staring at his artwork. Little did I know, that at the time, Silverstein was also known for his works in Playboy Magazine. Now how did he get away with that without causing an uproar? Double lives as a childrens' book author and a writer for Playboy. Was Mr. Falwell too busy with his fixation on young boys to notice?
I cannot recall a favorite poem but I give Silverstein credit for the development of my sense of humor. I do remember my grandmother's favorite poem "Whatif". Which goes like this...
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
Today's True Story:
After Drew Barrymore posed for Playboy in 1995, Steven Spielberg sent a note that said "cover yourself up" along with a quilt and a copy of the magazine with all her pictures altered so that she appeared fully clothed.
Now who is a party pooper.