3 posts tagged “children”

There was a song running through my head all morning today, but I wasn't clear on some of the lyrics.  It was a song from the stage version of Carole King's Really Rosie (I don't believe it was in the cartoon, but I hated the cartoon).  I grew up with, and still have, the cast recording with Angela Coin as Rosie and the wonderful April Lerman as Kathy.  I guess this was recorded after Tisha Campbell left the cast...  anyway, the song was a solo about playing the wife of Dracula in the movies.  When I looked online for the correct lyrics, I was in for a surprise.  Somewhere between the recording of the cast album I had (which I believe was from the 1970s) and now, Rosie was given this song, "The Awful Truth."

To me, this is an awful truth.  You see, Rosie had the songs "Really Rosie," "Simple Humble Neighborhood," "Screaming and Yelling," "Avenue P," and several others. Rosie didn't need any more. It's about fairness, the sort of fairness and justice I thought the world should have when I was a child. The other kids had their little solo songs. It was only fair that Kathy's big turn was "The Awful Truth," with which she tried to convince Rosie that she'd make a better Star than Secretary.  The way April Lerman sang it on the recording, it sounded to me like Kathy blew Rosie out of the water with talent, but she didn't have the creativity or bossiness that Rosie did-- Rosie was the leader.  Kathy had a gorgeous voice, but Rosie was unquestionably the leader. 

Rosie had enough fine songs of her own, though.  "The Awful Truth" was Kathy's song.  And the Kathy lyrics deserve to be on the internet, so I'm going to put them here now.

I spend every nice-weather moment I can at the botanical gardens.  Walking around, reading, studying, anything just to be close to the lovely plants there.  My workday was strange and a little off-putting, so as soon as I was finished for the week, I raced to the garden.

Strolling around yielded a lot of good springtime scents.  Tulips, some lilacs, Sweet Breath of Spring.  Many pleasant odors (except at the northernmost point-- that smelled like the church's dumpster lying just beyond the wall).  A few lazy bees, a few lazy squirrels, some vocal yet lazy birds were all doing their things.  It was a lazy day all around, so I decided to be lazy too.  I parked myself on a wooden bench, shifted so I was lying on my side, and began to drift in and out of dreamland.

Eventually, I woke a little bit due to the shouts of some toddlers on the other side of the garden.  They ran past me a couple of times, but the dream I had been having was good and kind of funny, so I kept my eyes shut a bit longer.  And then I heard... rain?  I wasn't wet though, so I opened my eyes.

Not rain, it was a man pushing a three-seater stroller with the toddlers in it.  The stroller rolling across the gravel path sounded like rain.  I sat up and smiled as all three toddlers waved at me, and I waved back.  As the man continued pushing the stroller, the older girl of the group twisted to look back at me, and shouted, "Nice nap!"

"Yes!"  I replied.

But really, it sounded like a compliment.  I feel as though I should have answered, "Thank you."

This past weekend, I was in Seattle attending the American Library Association Midwinter Meeting.  My main purpose in being there was to interview with a bunch of library HR people-- I'm looking for a job and looking to relocate.  It seemed to work well.  I had plenty of interviews and meetings to fill the three days I was there. 

On Saturday, I was sitting in a chair, eating lunch, and rarely taking my eyes away from the clock so that I wouldn't miss my next interview. I heard voices coming near me, so I stopped staring at the clock for a few seconds and turned toward the voices.  A man and a woman walked past me, deep in conversation.  I couldn't help but break into a huge grin, as I thought to myself, "Wow.  That man looks just like Gordon from Sesame Street."  The man and woman walked on, and I went back to watching the clock.

When it was nearly time for my interview, I made my way to the job placement center.  Sitting at a table, the man and woman were now eating.  As I passed by them, I thought "That man really does look like Gordon."

I'm sure you can see where this is going, but I was slower-- it took me another walk-by and a quick internet search before I realized that yes, the actor from Sesame Street was attending Midwinter.  I couldn't imagine why, because it was Linda who had been the librarian, not Gordon.  It didn't matter.  Gordon was at Midwinter.  I took out my phone and texted my sister,  "i just saw gordon from sesame street."  I went to the interview, answering all of the questions as best I could (and doing so admirably, I thought), all the while planning my next step:  The Quest to Find Gordon.

It actually didn't take long.  ALA Midwinter isn't as big as the annual conference, and I found the booth where he was promoting a book he'd written.  And then I got shy.   I used to talk to Gordon, Susan, Mr. Hooper, and the Muppets  every day when I was a little kid watching PBS, but it was so strange to see him up close.  It was odd to realize that the man I'd sung and played with as a child really was just a fictional character, and here was a real man who was wearing my television friend's face.  I drew a blank. I couldn't think of a way to start a conversation.  "Thank you for showing Small Child Me that racial diversity is a lovely thing" was true, but it seemed trite.  Instead, I talked to a librarian from New Orleans about recovery and rebuilding. I talked to a man who was portraying Frederick Douglass (this did not seem odd at the time).  And then...  I talked to the lady I had passed those three times at lunch.  I mentioned different Sesame Streets I had seen in my travels.  And she asked me if I'd like to meet him. Yes. And thank goodness she was there;  I would not have been able to do it otherwise.  She brought me over with a "This is Jemfy, and she was just telling me some interesting things..."

All of a sudden I was shaking Gordon's hand, looking at Gordon's face, and Gordon's voice said,  "Hi, Jemfy, I'm Roscoe."

OK.

OK.

I knew that his real name is Roscoe Orman.  I know some of the other shows he's been in, such as a play about Stepin Fetchit.  I know he isn't really married to Susan, and neighbor to Oscar the Grouch.  I know.  But a very small, petulant toddler in me said "Booooooooooo."

I ignored it as best I could and had a pleasant conversation with Gordon Gordon GORDON DAMMIT Mr. Orman.  He asked about my hometown; I described it as a very small town near a very small body of water and managed to shut up before I added "...full of very small people."  With prompting, I told him what I'd noticed about the different Sesame Streets I'd seen, and about my ongoing effort to leave the fishbowl and finish my education in children's librarianship.  He told me about his upcoming children's book, and gave me a publicity poster for it.  He talked a bit about his kids, and we exchanged more pleasantries. 

I'm sure he forgot me immediately.  I don't think I'll forget it, though.  He had interesting things to say, and I do wish I had brought money to get his book-- it sounds like something I'd enjoy.  As I left, I mulled the whole thing over.  I don't think I sounded stupid, and the petulant toddler inside me reassured:  "It's OK, he really is Gordon, just with another name.  He's a nice man."

Both the petulant toddler and the adult librarian agree that he is.