favorite character

Friday evening was the Drama Banquet for Snider High School. (I already posted a picture from that event.) On the invitation we were encouraged to dress as our favority movie actor or character.

That was a challenge for me, though I suppose as a parent, I could have opted out. (Most did. I haven’t grown up yet). Hope and her friend Ashley decided to go as Ashley and Mary-Kate. They had Andrew make T-shirts with the names printed on them.

I decided to get a T-shirt, too (black, long-sleeve). On the back is now printed my favorite character: story.

I realized that the core of a movie, book, play, life is the story. It gives the rest of the characters context. It gives the director a reason. It gives the audience something to order the experience.

Effects are helpful, of course. Costuming, make-up, acting…all are necessary and in a pinch can make even a weak story watch-able. In the case of a musical, great music and dancing can provide an excuse for a shallow story.

However, I’m still about story. Anyone who talks with me knows that storu shows up in how I explain almost everything.

And now, I have a shirt to prove it.

So do you have a story about your favorite character?

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2 responses to “favorite character

  1. One of my favorite characters is my 6 year old daughter. And believe me she’s a character. The funny thing is, that while she is the only of my children that isn’t mine biologically, she is the most like me in personality and teaches me the most about myself.

    One day, when she was three, I took her and her sibs to a babysitter’s house so I could do some painting.

    When I picked them up, she said, “Mom, did you paint?”


    “Was it yellow?”

    “No, it was white.”

    pause . . .

    “I think it was yellow.”

    Emphatically, “No, honey, it was white.”

    Equally emphatically, “I will check!”

    Now, I appreciate a girl who knows her own mind, as I am one myself. But this takes it a bit too far. And shouldn’t she have thought I knew everything when she was three?

    And yet, I see myself here. How often do i question my Father instead of trust? How often do I “check” instead of believe? How often do I try to work it out myself instead of submit? How often am I that little girl who thinks she knows everything?

  2. Two, about two of my favorite characters–my sons:

    Son #1: Between ages 3 and 4 with this one, I felt like I lived in a battle zone on a daily basis–call it the War of the Wills. It was one of the most frazzling periods of my entire life.

    Sometime during this period, this child, always the early riser who hit the ground running, came bouncing into my morning with the defining statement of his young life: “Mom, I’m bubbling over with ideas of things to do today!”

    Does one laugh or cry in these moments? I can’t remember what I did in that instant, but in the true spirit of motherhood, I have done plenty of both since then. I am happy to report that, though the winning quantity of either activity may be in question, the net effect has been on the joy side.

    Son #2: This child is as close to a neat freak as any that have come forth from my body, although none is truly so, for which I daily give thanks! Especially as a toddler-turning-into-pre-schooler, this is the child who habitually straightened stray shoes into neat pairs and turned down the flipped corner of a throw rug as he passed by.

    One evening I was making pizza and had been cutting olives on the pull-out cutting board. I left the kitchen for a minute, only to come back and find the olives on the floor, cutting board pushed in. Motherly investigation discovered the culprit: the neat child, passing through the kitchen, noted that something was out of order–that cutting board should have been pushed in. So, push it in he did and the pile of sliced olives landed on the floor below. The irony of that one made me laugh.