Marching milk bottles

Digitizing my life, a tiny bit at a time. Today I scanned scrapbooks from high school, fine arts camps, and college sorority years. There were some strangely peculiar memorabilia and wedding napkins tipped in, plus many frightening photos. At the bottom of the Rubbermaid tub I found my childhood copy of The Little Engine That Could, patched with clear Contac for my little sons. The story and illustrations are more than a little creepy viewed from the distance of LVII years. Why don't the bears have necks? What are brown bobbed heads? Who lets their kids play with jack-knives these days? Even the lollypops seem sinister.

© 2014 Nancy L. Ruder

1 comment:

seana graham said...

I had the same book. Maybe one of my first books in fact. It's funny that it is the image of the clown that made me realize that you were talking about the same book.

I liked that story, but I can't say that reading it at an early age instilled me with any noble character traits.