Bookology Magazine

Spreading the Joy

In this sea­son of grat­i­tude and cel­e­bra­tion we want to add sto­ries about com­mu­ni­ty and shar­ing. Spread­ing the rich­es and the joy seems like a log­i­cal fol­low-up to grat­i­tude and celebration.

The Snow Party by Beatrice Schenk de Regniers and Reiner ZimnikThe Snow Par­ty by Beat­rice Schenk de Reg­niers, illus­trat­ed by Rein­er Zimnik, was pub­lished in 1959 and still delights. Who does­n’t wish for a par­ty on a snowy win­ter day? The book begins, “There was this lit­tle old woman and this lit­tle old man and they lived in a lit­tle old farm­house ‘way out in Dako­ta.” Any­one famil­iar with the upper Mid­west plains and prairie can imag­ine how iso­lat­ed they might be.

When a snow­storm begins, the lit­tle old woman says, “I’m mighty lone­ly here with just you and the chick­ens for com­pa­ny. I’d like to give me a par­ty and have plen­ty of folks in.” The old man points out that they don’t know any­one, that no one would come out in a snow­storm any­way, and that “wish­es won’t wash dish­es or stop the wind and snow.”

Sud­den­ly a strand­ed dri­ver knocks at the door and asks for shel­ter for his car­load of pas­sen­gers. When anoth­er car­load of strand­ed peo­ple knocks on the door they are wel­comed in, fol­lowed by three more car­loads and a bus full of peo­ple. Soon even the snow­plow is stuck. Even­tu­al­ly the run­ning total of occu­pants in the house reach­es 84 grownups, 17 chil­dren, 7 babies, 6 dogs, a cat, a para­keet, a canary bird, and a lit­tle pet skunk.

“It’s a shame,” says the old woman. “All these peo­ple and no par­ty. If only there were a crust or a crumb or bread in the house or a bit of music.” Just then a strand­ed bak­ery truck dri­ver knocks, and when he sees all the hun­gry-look­ing peo­ple, he emp­ties his truck in a hunger-induc­ing parade of goodies:

Crunchy crusty rolls … soft fluffy rolls … pop­py­seed rolls, sesame seed rolls, lit­tle rolls braid­ed like rib­bons, smooth round rolls shaped like a baby’s bot­tom … cin­na­mon buns … lemon meringue pies, cher­ry pies, apple pies, coconut cus­tard pies, choco­late cream pies, cup­cakes – choco­late, vanil­la – with pink icing, white icing, rich choco­late icing…[and a] spe­cial-order choco­late fudge par­ty cake.

Every­one eats and eats and then dances to an accor­dion play­er’s music until the snow stops and more snow­plows come to clear the road. Every­one leaves, say­ing it’s the best par­ty they’ve ever been to, and the lit­tle old lady “lays her head on the table next to a coconut cus­tard pie and falls fast asleep and dreams about the par­ty all over again.”

There’s so much fun in the old lady’s yearn­ing for a par­ty, the over the top accu­mu­la­tion of snow-strand­ed peo­ple, and the way that snow-bound folks man­age a par­ty after all. Wish­es may not wash dish­es, but some­times even in the face of a bliz­zard, the uni­verse provides.

The Doorbell Rang by Pat HutchinsThe Door­bell Rang writ­ten and illus­trat­ed by Pat Hutchins, is a won­der­ful­ly repeat­ing struc­ture that also fea­tures a grow­ing accu­mu­la­tion of peo­ple at the door. When Ma bakes a dozen cook­ies, Vic­to­ria and Sam remark that they look and smell as good as the ones Grand­ma makes. Ma replies, “No one makes cook­ies as good as Grand­ma’s.” Before Vic­to­ria and Sam can eat their six cook­ies each, the door­bell rings and Tom and Han­nah join them. They, too, com­ment on how the cook­ies look and smell as good as the ones Sam and Vic­to­ri­a’s grand­ma makes. “No one makes cook­ies as good as Grand­ma,” Ma says again. Now there are three cook­ies per child, but before they all can dig in, Peter and his lit­tle broth­er join them, mak­ing the cook­ie divi­sion two cook­ies each, and again they com­ment on Grand­ma’s cook­ies. The door­bell rings, and Joy and Simon with their four cousins join the chil­dren with the usu­al com­ments about Grand­ma’s cook­ies. From six cook­ies each, Vic­to­ria and Sam’s share has dwin­dled to one cook­ie each.

When the door­bell rings again, Ma sug­gests the chil­dren eat the cook­ies before she opens the door, but the chil­dren decide to wait even though it might mean more chil­dren to share the cook­ies with. Ma opens the door to…Grandma arriv­ing with an enor­mous tray of cook­ies, cook­ies that no one makes as good as she does. Now there are plen­ty of cook­ies for every­body. “How nice to have friends to share them with,” says Grand­ma. And the door­bell rings again.

The rep­e­ti­tion, the math that shrinks each child’s share as more chil­dren come in, and the unex­pect­ed solu­tion of Grand­ma with cook­ies that no one makes like she does all add up to a deli­cious­ly sat­is­fy­ing sto­ry, illus­trat­ed with cheer­ful bold colors.

You might call the solu­tions in The Snow Par­ty and The Door­bell Rang “good­ies ex machi­na,” an unex­pect­ed event that resolves a prob­lem, but it might be more accu­rate to say that some­times, in unex­pect­ed ways, friends, strangers, and cir­cum­stance all com­bine to pro­vide plen­ty for all.

Around the Table That Grandad Built by Melanie Heuiser Hill and Jaime Kim

Around the Table That Grandad Built, writ­ten by Melanie Heuis­er Hill and illus­trat­ed by Jaime Kim, is a cel­e­bra­tion of fam­i­ly and one won­der­ful meal, shared with at least one Grand­ma and cousins. It all starts with the table that Grandad built. His table is soon adorned with sun­flow­ers “picked by my cousins,” nap­kins “sewn by Mom.” Almost every­thing on the table has a fam­i­ly sto­ry. The forks, spoons, and knives are gifts from the Dad’s Grand­ma. The glass­es are from Mom and Dad’s wed­ding. The yum­my bread has been just baked by Grand­ma. The squash, pota­toes, pep­pers, and beans were grown in the fam­i­ly gar­den. By the time they sit down to say thanks for the boun­ty on that table and eat their meal, we feel we know this fam­i­ly and their many con­nec­tions. Even if we don’t have a Grand­dad that built a table or sun­flow­ers grow­ing in the yard, this sto­ry reminds us to look at what we have, remem­ber its sto­ry, and be grateful.

Because Amelia Smiled by David Ezra SteinBecause Amelia Smiled, writ­ten and illus­trat­ed by David Ezra Stein, is a rol­lick­ing sto­ry of unwit­ting con­nec­tion. We often do not know the effects of our actions. The char­ac­ters in this sto­ry do not rec­og­nize that their actions cre­ate com­mu­ni­ty, but we do. We see more than they do. Amelia does not know that her smile leads Mrs. Hig­gins to feel so hap­py she bakes cook­ies to send to her grand­son Lionel in Mex­i­co. Lionel eats one of the cook­ies and shares the rest with his class and decides to teach his class an Eng­lish song about cook­ies. Because of the song Sen­sa­cia Golpes, one of his stu­dents, decides to be a teacher. Her kick­box­ing les­son is seen by a bal­let stu­dent in Eng­land. The kick­box­ing moves are incor­po­rat­ed into Zes­ta Crump’s dance club’s good­will recital in Israel. The good­will trav­els on to Paris, Posi­tano, Italy, back to New York, where it caus­es Pigeon Man Jones to release his pigeons. “Amelia saw them and she smiled.” This sto­ry is so much fun. We love trav­el­ing the globe with the smiles, the danc­ing, and the throw­ing of a rose. We love the cas­cad­ing effect of one smile. More smiles. More danc­ing. More good­will recitals.

Mr. Willowby's Christmas Tree by Robert Barry

We have to include the sea­son­al clas­sic, Mr. Willowby’s Christ­mas Tree, writ­ten and illus­trat­ed by Robert Bar­ry, in this line-up. Mr. Willowby’s tree is unin­ten­tion­al­ly shared because it is too big to fit in his house. He cuts off the top. His upstairs maid finds the top just right — almost. She has to trim it a bit to fit her space. No wor­ries about waste. Timm the Gar­den­er takes it home to Mrs. Timm. “Our house is so snug and small/I do not believe we need it all,” says Mrs. Timm. Barn­a­by Bear finds that trim­ming, to the delight of his fam­i­ly. But it’s just a bit too tall. Frisky Fox leaps home with his gift and Mrs. Fox calls it “bet­ter than mince­meat pie,” but it is a lit­tle too tall and she has to trim. That is good news for Ben­jamin Rab­bit who takes home the lit­tle tree. “Then there was a mer­ry-mak­ing/Rol­lick­ing, frol­ick­ing, car­rot-shak­ing/Cel­e­bra­tion around the tree.” They, too, have to trim, which is just right as that lit­tle piece of tree is found by Mistle­toe Mouse who takes it home to his fam­i­ly, where noth­ing needs to be lopped off. On the last page we see the mice fam­i­ly with their tree and Mr. Wil­low­by with his tree. So sat­is­fy­ing. And we know that Mr. Willowby’s Christ­mas tree brought hap­pi­ness to the whole neigh­bor­hood — and car­rot-shak­ing cel­e­bra­tion! Let us hope for us all that we can bring cause for car­rot-shak­ing cel­e­bra­tion to our neigh­bor­hoods this season.

And hoorah for cook­ies and trees and food and smiles enough for us all.
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