So many of my dear readers have wondered (and two have even asked!) how and why I am Mother Goose. Like so many difficult situations in life, there are no easy answers. I can only attempt to explain who I am and why I am and how I am.
Once upon a time, I was a bookworm. Whilst other children ran and played happily through their growing up years, I was found to be “with book”. I read stories of other people’s adventures and mysteries and romances, never truly experiencing a life of my own. No matter what family outings we attended, I was lost in my book.
The family at the Effie Rodeo — me with my beak in a book.
The family canoeing down the Crow Wing River — me with my beak in a book.
The family exploring caves in southeastern Minnesota — me with my beak in a book.
When I was not reading, I was writing and recording my every thought and emotion. Essentially, I had no real childhood.
And then there were the troubling teen years when I continued to read, but added to the fun by acting out in real life the stories I was reading. Of course, I have very little memory of those days…
And then there were days of marriage and motherhood when there was no time for anything personal. No reading. No writing. I miraculously gave birth to six children, fed them, potty trained them, and taught them to read. Of course.
I had no time to read for my own benefit, but found much joy in telling stories to my babies. We read the classics and the not-so-classics. I told them the story of The Three Bears every single night before they fell asleep. When they were feeling under the weather, I would drag out some of our family favorites: The Wee Wee Woman, Barney’s Sandcastle, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, Snuggle Piggy and the Magic Blanket, and Poe’s The Raven.
My precious mother would call me up on the phone and ask, “Hello? Is this Mother Goose?” And pretty soon, I began to think that perhaps I was Mother Goose. Of course, now I am completely convinced of it.
Now that my days of hard labor have ended, I find that I have the time to read and write again. The children can all feed themselves and seldom need me to help them in the bathroom.
Now that I am older, I have the wisdom to play.
I have such an exciting life! I see stories all around me — wherever I go, I meet interesting people!
With all of these wonderful people and places all around me, how can I NOT be Mother Goose?