Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, February 27, 1995 TAG: 9503010007
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-5 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
And so I'm going to try.
Although I doubt I'll be able to top the story they wrote for me while I was visiting their class.
I'd taken with me two pieces of a wasps' nest: four layers of storied, honey-combed innards and the bottom half of the round paper shell.
These had fallen off our woodshed some weeks earlier, after one of our wind-and-rain storms. They were wet and limp when I found them, but still interesting; so I laid them inside to dry.
Which worked just fine, except that the rounded paper shell ended up nearly flat - squashed by its own weight. It didn't look much like a wasps' nest anymore, I thought. But I kept the scraps anyway, thinking surely some use would present itself.
As it did, when I was invited to speak to the second- graders.
I took along my scraps, planning to have the children guess what those odd things were.
Well, children are too smart for me. They knew right away. They even had another wasps' nest in their classroom with which to compare my scraps. I had to shift gears fast. So I asked them, ``But suppose you were walking through the woods, not expecting a wasps' nest at all, and you came upon these things lying on the ground?'' I laid the scraps in the floor. ``What would you think then?''
``I'd think it was a bear's brain!''
Now there's a possibility that would never have occurred to me. Never in a million years.
``So what would you do?'' I asked.
``Take it home and tell my momma to cook it!''
Another stunning idea.
Their story progressed from there, involving a reappearance of the brainless bear (who was more than a little piqued), many noisy and feisty heroics, and, finally, bear brains for supper.
Who could top such a story as that? Well, I said I'd try.
Once upon a time there lived a bear named Beryl who couldn't stand a mess. She hated disorder so much, she even alphabetized her spice rack.
Her best friend, a 'possum named Petunia, said, ``Lighten up, Beryl! Life is short. Learn to go with the flow.''
But Beryl didn't believe Petunia. She wanted success, and she was convinced that success required organization. ``Goals and objectives,'' she declared. ``If you had a plan, Petunia, you'd be going somewhere, too.''
Now the truth was, Petunia didn't want to go anywhere. She was perfectly happy puttering around the root cellar and the barn. Besides, she could see the toll all those goals were taking on Beryl. (Petunia was a good deal wiser than she looked.)
One day, just as Petunia had predicted, Beryl flopped over in the yard, scattering note cards and folders and pages from her organizer notebook all over the grass. ``Oh!'' she gasped. ``My head! I feel like my brain is bursting.''
Petunia picked up the detritus of Beryl's organized life and threw it in the trash. Then she took Beryl a beer and said, ``Take a breather, my friend.''
And thank goodness that's just what Beryl did. Because her brain was about to burst. And let me tell you, my friends, once a bear's brain has burst, it can't be put back together.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times & World-News columnist.
by CNB