An Excerpt from a beautiful story . . .
Picture the scene:
“Theo and Lamisha take their places side-by-side and close together at one end of the sofa, what elderly Mrs. Whitaker called the Davenport. They hold their book of the week in such a way that both can read the text and see whatever illustrations are on the pages.
And then, with a mild bit of fanfare, Theo delicately turns to page one and introduces the story thusly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you, for your listening and viewing pleasure a reading of …
And so he begins.
At some passages, he lingers and lowers his voice for effect. At others, if the action of the story calls for it, he speaks as fast as his mouth allows.
Sometimes he and Lamisha take turns reading the lines. Theo obviously has an agenda in mind when they do so. He is helping a child improve her reading skills, but he is also teaching a course as Basil might say, “in magic.”
The magic of story…
The wonder of words.
The fertility of imagination.
“Ah, Lamisha, you read so beautifully, my dear. Do that page one more time for me. And now, once more. What is this big word? ‘Accidentally.’ And tell me how many syllables are in the word? He claps out the syllables Ac-ci-den-tal-ly. One, two, three, four, five. And how many vowels? And consonants? Excellent! You read it so well. Once again, please.”
Sometimes they read in unison, Theo suggesting inflection and cadence. They celebrate exclamation points enthusiastically, with increased decibels and animated gestures.
The little girl savors the warmth and expressiveness of the old man’s voice. It is not merely a sound. It is a place. A color. A Haven.
And for the old man, the moments are equally enchanted. They bring to mind, vivid memories of sitting on a sofa and France, decades earlier, with his own dear Child, Tita. They enjoyed some of the same books he now shares with Lamisha.
Some of Theo‘s happiest moments long ago were story time with that little girl. Some of his happiest moments now are story time with this little girl. To read with either was to drink from a chalice of gold.
Before long, Lamicia’s dad, initially at her request, but eventually on his own, began reading and rewarding stories with her. Sometimes he required the little girl’s help, and sometimes she asked, “How many syllables are in that word?
The davenport became home to Eeyore and Aslan and Miss Rumphius and Punchinello and a Giving Tree.
In many of those characters, Kendrick was sure he saw glimpses of Mr. Theo.
On one memorable occasion, Theo arrived with a sketchbook in hand.
It contained a story of his own making, painstakingly written in block letters and illustrated with simple pictures that a six-year-old could have drawn: stick figures, lollipop trees, clover-leaf clouds.
He had written the story with a specific child in mind: a little girl with a pronounced limp and a brace on her leg; a little girl afraid of returning to school after almost a year of absence; a little girl, self-conscious and fearful of being different than her peers.
The story was called “The Princess of Titalamish.”
Theo insisted that Lamisha learn to pronounce the name correctly. “Like this, one syllable at a time, Tee-tah-lah-mish. You say it…. Ah yes, wonderful! And now once more.”
The word felt exotic and full of romance as it rolled off her tongue.
Tee-tah-lah-meesh.
The story was about a little girl who was given a pair of strikingly, colorful, magic shoes, a gift from her papa. Theo described them with gusto.
“These magical shoes were blue, blue, blue. Bluer than blue! Blue as the Morpho. Yes, blue as the Morpho butterfly! Beautiful blue!
He would go on to explain, however, that, though beautiful, the shoes made the little girl different, undeniably so, than all her classmates.
Because, you see, they all wear red shoes. Red, red, red! Everywhere, red! And because the little girl was not like all the rest of the children, they teased her and called her names and would not sit with her or be her friend. Ah, my goodness, what was the dear little child to do?
Theo employed every dramatic skill he possessed –gesture, inflection, phrasing, silence, repetition– to bring the story to life for Lamishia. And in response, she listened, spellbound, all the way from “once upon a time to “happily ever after. “
When he finished the reading, Theo closed the sketchbook and handed it to his young companion.
“For you, my dear. This is the only copy in all the world. “
That gift would forever be one of Lamisha‘s most prized possessions. She kept it beneath another of her most prized possessions. — her dad’s portrait— on the end table beside her bed.”
Theo of Golden by
