The first time I read my son Where The Wild Things Are I realized what the book meant and why it was so important. It’s funny how that works. It’s a subtle take of a kid being a kid and a mom being a mom. It’ brilliant.
And I know it sticks. Once my wife came home a little late for dinner and I had a plate of food for her ready. She took a bite and said, ‘oh, it’s still hot!’ i said, ‘and it was still hot…’ And our 2 year old son looked up from his dinner, face covered with mac-and-cheese sauce and said, ‘Wild Things!”
Everyone’s favorite poet and illustrator, Maurice Sendak, died yesterday at the age of 83. Coupled with the death last week of Beastie Boy Adam MCA Yauch, this Is a sad month for former petulant little boys with wild imaginations.
Read the Obituary for Maurice Sendak at The New York Times here. It’s really a wonderful summation of the life of a creative genius. If he had only ever created Where The Wild Things Are it would have been a great career, but did so much more. The best part of the NYT obit is this:
But he cherished the letters that individual children sent him unbidden, which burst with the sparks that his work had ignited.
“Dear Mr. Sendak,” read one, from an 8-year-old boy. “How much does it cost to get to where the wild things are? If it is not expensive, my sister and I would like to spend the summer there.” [New York Times]
So read your kid Wild Things, and pick up every other title of Sendaks you can from Amazon and hope that Mr. Sendak is enjoying his private boat and the place where he is king.
-Mike
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