It’s Not Caving In
I’m guessing it was about 1972 or 1973.
That’s the guess.
The fact, however, is that what ever year it may have been, I was definitely obsessed. With the book in the photo above. The original one titled “Fun Projects for Dad and the Kids.”
Remember in grade school when you got to go to the school library and pick out your book? Well, this was the one I raced to every single Friday without exception. The original was a hardcover and the old too-much-red in the image was just as you see it in the photo.
I adored that book because it was full of the most amazing one-of-a-kind backyard projects I could imagine. More, I’d never since seen anything like the magic this guy illustrated and presented to the world in the form of real-world things you could build on your own.
Or, rather, what your dad could build on his own.
Or, rather, what I annoyed my own dad, way back in 1972 or 1973, week after week after week when I brought the book home and begged, borrowed, and pled for him to cave in and undertake something wild right out of the pages of this book.
The poor man had enough on his plate with the five of us running around without adding to it something like this. But I was insufferable and obsessed with the whole thing.
But, as happens in life, even budding ones, Life moved on and we moved to another town and I never saw that book again.
But I never forgot it.
Flash forward about thirty years to the advent of the world wide web and imagine, if you can, me scouring the search engines the world over for evidence that the book existed. Because I hadn’t seen it in that long. All I knew was the title and that the cover had something like an amazing tree fort and the image had too much red in it and the title was in red as well.
That’s all I knew. I had no idea who the author was.
But about every six months or so I’d tackle the search engines once again, hoping that the exponentiating nature of the internet was spreading out its web enough to capture proof of the book or, even better, a way to get a copy.
And then one day, about eight years ago…bingo.
There it was. I recognized it immediately. And chuckled at the newer politically-correct title.
I contacted the author (David Stiles) and told him my story and how the book, in addition to infusing in my young mind a love of secret hideaways and trap doors, had also greatly influenced my own style of illustrating. And how, not until I was able to once again flip through the pages of the book, did I realize just how much.
Better yet, he sent me an autographed copy as a gift.
I tore open the package when it arrived and turned page after page after page until I came to the one I was looking for.
The Space Ship.
How I loved that space ship. How I dreamed of having one of my own. How I annoyed my dad until he lost his mind and caved in, and…
…surprised us one day with “…we’re building the Space Ship.” I thought I died and gone to heaven. The house we lived in at the time had about an acre of land behind it, and, up on the hill at the very back, just in front of the sumacs, we broke ground and wrested from the pages of the book (hammers, saws, nails and all) proof that dreams do come true.
And that what back then seemed like something akin to getting dad to cave in…
…was actually dad rising up and giving our childhood a story that has since become legend.
Beta Male just walked in to my office as I was typing this…took one look and yelled, “Is that it?!”
(smiling) “Yeah…that’s it, buddy. That’s the Space Ship I’ve told you about. You’ve never seen this photo?”
“No!” (eyes wide)
“A ha. Well. I have a book for you…”
Nice!
And yet you are not one prone to power tools…ironic
Weird, isn’t it?
Oh, Todd! You’ve shared with us many stories. Plenty of them funny and smart; many of them tender and open as only a heart could be. But, though maybe all of them explain yourself to the world, posts like this one, today, just show your really you, the true core of yourself as a human being.
And even though you’re really a smart-ass, you’re kind and an icredible human beign, with this beautiful golden heart.
Thank you for share with us the roots of your life.
I am sure you would have been a great Dad anyway, but having had a Dad that would do that for/with you makes being a great Dad way easier.
That’s one of my favorite posts of yours yet! The volume of what you said exceeded the words used. How unlike you. ;)
..and not a single word in red capital letters. Imagine that lol.