Dragons Weep Today

"She first set dragons free on Pern and then was herself freed by her dragons."              - Todd McCaffrey

 (Image of Sad Dragon by Rakaseth on DeviantArt)

The world of science fiction and fantasy writing lost a powerhouse this week. Anne McCafrfrey died on Monday at the age of 85.

Author of almost 100 books, McCaffrey was best known for the Dragonriders of Pern series. During her 46 year career she won a Hugo Award and a Nebula Award.  Her book The White Dragon became the one of the first science fiction novels ever to appear on the New York Times Best Seller List. She was honored by induction into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame in 2006.

 RIP

1 April 1926 – 21 November 2011

 (Image from numerous sites on Google Images)

Remember, Part 3

Remember when you didn’t need to venture far from home to see and learn new and wondrous things? It was a time when all manner of cool stuff came right to your door.

Though I was not usually the target customer, I loved the visits we had on occasion from various folks selling this and that. A frequent caller was the Fuller Brush Man. "Hello, I'm your Fuller Brush Man, and I have a gift for you!" Usually, Mom didn't buy anything, but every now and then...

I still have an inherited Fuller Brush clothes brush that is almost as old as I am. It's bristles are bent and it's a bit ratty looking, but I love it.  I’m so glad Mom bought that one.  Written on its hardwood handle is $2.49, but the service that brush has given me? Priceless. I'm terrified something will happen to it. They just don't make them like that anymore.

The best smelling door-to-door salesman wasn't a man at all, of course, but the Avon Lady.  You remember. "Ding dong. Avon calling!"  She was one of my favorites, because she gave us all these neat samples: creams and lotions and, sometimes, cool little tubes of lipstick!  She had everything a girl needed to be beautiful.

Of course, there were also people selling things we never bought, like that guy selling vacuum cleaners. I can’t remember his company, but I remember the way he dumped a bag of dirt on the floor. Oh-oh!  But his vacuum cleaned it up, lickety-split! Wow! Who wouldn’t want that? But we didn’t buy one. We didn’t buy the knives, the encyclopedias or the sewing machine either.

Of course, sometimes I was the target market. For example, there was the guy with the horse. He came through the neighborhoods with this little pinto horse, enough costume stuff to trick you out as a cowboy or cowgirl, and a camera. You put on the chaps, the gun belt and six-shooter, and a cowboy hat, and got on the horse. He took your picture, and in a few weeks: it came; a portrait of you sitting astride your trusty steed, looking just like Roy Rogers or Dale Evans!   Yippee ki-yay kay-yo!

And, oh, the ice cream man! The tinkling music of his truck on the next street over on a hot summer day sent all the kids running inside to beg for a nickel. I remember standing there, twitching nervously, waiting for my mother to find her purse and dig out a nickel. “Hurry! He’s coming!” My favorite Popsicle was banana. (In fact, my favorite Popsicle is still banana.) Root beer and that unnamed blue one were yummy too. Though they are not as ubiquitous today, I’m happy that ice cream trucks are still around. Like an old fire horse, the sound of the truck’s music sends me running, rummaging for a nickel, and another nickel, and another nickel and… How much is that Popsicle these days?

But my all-time favorite was the bookmobile. Remember them? During the summer, I anxiously awaited the bookmobile’s weekly arrival. We'd all stand outside at the curb as the scheduled time approached. You went in through the front door, and browsed your way through the stacks on both sides of the center aisle. When you reached the back, the driver would stamp your books and library card, and you went out the back door with your selections. Having those books in my arms was like holding a ticket to exciting new lands. Thanks to the bookmobile, I learned to love to read, a passion that burns brightly to this day.  Whatever happened to bookmobiles? 

Nobody ever comes to the neighborhood with cool stuff anymore. I kinda miss that.

Remember, Part 2

Remember back when we could play outside morning till night? My favorite childhood years were the four years I lived on a street where nearly every house had a least one child. I was nine years old when we moved there, and I had about 15 friends within two years of my age.

One summer, the day began at around 7AM, when my friend Barbara came over and we had fried bologna sandwiches for breakfast. You remember, a slice of bologna with a hump in the middle from the frying, grease seeping into the soft white bread you could smoosh up into a pea-sized ball to use for bait (except for when you needed it flat for a sandwich).

And then we’d head outdoors for the rest of the day, joining the others in the game of the moment. Sometimes it was jacks, sometimes four-square, sometimes dodge ball or keep- away. I was a major tomboy and I liked to play Cowboys and Indians because I always got to play an Indian with the boys. They let me play because I could shoot my imaginary bow and arrow straighter than any of them.

But my favorite time was the evening. It started at dusk with an important ritual. Every night, as we all sat with our families at the dinner table, the street lights would come on. With some innate sixth sense given only to kids, we all knew just when those lights came on. A minute or two before, kids would jump up from the table, saying “I’ll be right back!” and run outside. Up and down the street, you’d hear the screen doors slam: Slap! Slap! Slap! We’d all run and put our hand on the nearest light pole so we were touching it when the light came on. (This was important, because if you weren’t touching the pole when the light came on, you were a monkey’s uncle.) Then “see you later,” and we went back in to finish dinner.

After drying the dishes, we were back out, playing hide and seek in the shadows, or just laying on the warm sidewalk, looking up at the stars and sharing secrets. And if one happened to have a “boyfriend” or “girlfriend,” there might be someone to hold your hand.

Television? We didn’t need no stinkin’ television.

You remember.


Epilogue: I went back to that old neighborhood 30 years later. I found my initials still there, carved into the street light pole nearest my house.

Remember, Part 1

Remember what it was like before we got caught up by the high-speed technology train, and were rushed into the future at breakneck speed? Life was simpler. I know many would say that it wasn’t better, that all our technological advances are, well, advances. But it was simpler; you can’t argue that. 

Take toys. Kids today yearn for complicated whiz-bang toys that, at the end of the day, often languish on the closet floor. Remember when a refrigerator came boxed in a magical castle, and after the pesky refrigerator was out of the way, you could climb into the castle and rule your kingdom?  Remember when a bike was just a bike, and the jazziest accessories were a bell, handlebar tassels and playing cards clipped to the spokes for that zoom-zoom-y "putt-putt-putt" noise? Remember when skates had four wheels, and you attached them to your shoes with a skate key that hung around your neck?

You don’t remember that??? (sigh...)