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Recent Comments
- over 2 years ago on Wallace the Brave
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over 2 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
When I was Wallace’s age my little coastal town Had all of the standard Summer Foot Perils. Oyster shells, pop tops, hot sand, dog renderings and of course dreaded stickers of all kinds. I walked down to my pal Donald’s house to horse around and discovered his uncle had finally cut the tall grass in back of their tool shed. I loved running through any freshly cut grass and was almost across the purty patch when I found out the very hard way that dry and hardened sandspurs become invisible after a mowing. I collected 19 stickers in my tender early June soles. I froze and could not and would not walk. Donald’s aunt brought out a foot tub (appropriate, huh?) for me to sit on with my feet in the air. I refused to let anyone remove the sandspurs so my Mom was called. I’ll never forget how hard she laughed when she saw my predicament. As she pulled out the stickers with tweezers we both laughed until my poor little feet were released from their sticker shock. Took a week to heal well enough to do the Twist with my friend Cathy. I learned a lesson that day in the sandspur patch. Keep a pair of Flip Flops in your pocket for special occasions.
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almost 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
Yoiks! Better watch that lettering, Will. I thought Puck was an entirely different word with the P leaning on the U for support. Thank goodness it didn’t say…FLICK.
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almost 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
George Seagull looks like one of The Fabulous Feathered Freak Brothers!!
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almost 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
What a Merry Day! I received a USPS envelope this week from Rhode Island and it had Wallace’s picture on it. Officially on the envelope. I opened it this morning and inside was a Wallace The Brave book signed to me by Will Henry!!! He wrote my name and spelled it correctly and everything. My dear friends in West Kingston made this Christmas miracle happen. Many thanks to them and to all of the Wallace fans and kindred spirits whose own words and experiences bring joy to my life each day through their comments here.
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about 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
I’d love to tell you all about an on-stage actors nightmare when I was Wallace’s age. Pardon m? Oh. I played the part of Father in the third grade production of Books Are Our Friends. This is what I must share with the gang . Today I received (I presume) Christmas gifts from dear friends in West Kingston, Rhode Island. When the wind is coming from the Southwest they can smell Snug Harbor’s mud flats at low tide. On the outside of the USPS printed package is a big picture of WALLACE!! It is sooo cool! Congrats to Wil and his proud kin for his receiving this recognition of his magnificent creation.
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about 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
I have dear friends in West Kingston who love your work and think your wife is amazing. I love living in Snug Harbor for a little while every day!. :-)
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about 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
Where I come from half of the uptown businesses were built over the water. Calling it uptown was like collective uppityness for the townspeople but the place was too small to have across town, but I digress. At low tide my pals and I often climbed down from the docks and scavenged under the stores and other businesses since they’d throw some very desirable-to-a-kid trash out of their back doors. The pilings under each building were secured to exposed by low tide concrete pads that we’d navigate by hopping from one to the next as we collected our treasures. Under the drug store we hit the jackpot of alll jackpots!! A closed plastic tub filled with the display candies from the dime store across the street. All of the sweet treats we’d ogled for years and unable to buy on our 25 cents a week allowances were now our for the taking and tasting which we did with furtive looks and glee! Never mind that it. tasted. like. cra, uh, crayons. Whew. Glad I caught that one. This is a family strip. Yep, crayons. Colorful but tasteless after those years of being displayed under a window pane of glass at the ice cream counter. But still sugary as the day those pieces of joy were made and sent into the world. As the last malted and petrified milk ball was crunched by our now cavity prone teeth we felt the tide licking our ankles. The three little fellers who’d so nimbly jumped from pad to pad now were weighted down by the half ton of forbidden fruit slices and other contraband. We made it to the dock just as the tide covered our tracks and the pads. If we’d been stranded under the stores until high tide the next morning three little scavengers would have all been given the most dreaded of orders by our parents (Moms). Go cut me a switch. Darkness was approaching over the shoals and I realized I’d have to run or roll home for supper and…oh, my gosh, NO…eat. We’d dodged a bullet that day but we didn’t dodge the bucket. Maybe next time.
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about 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
When I was a kid, maybe eight or nine, I’d ride in the old Studebaker with my Mom to the A&P for Saturday afternoon grocery shopping. She always waited till all of my cartoon shows and The Lone Ranger had been absorbed delightfully by my little brother and me before washing my face and combing my hair before the adventure began. On the way to the A&P we’d come to one of two stop lights in our sleepy little fishing town. I would wish and hold my breath as we approached the intersection. If our light was red maybe I’d I could juuust see a sliver of yellow on the side of the light as it signaled cars coming from our left and right that the light was about to change for them to red. And we’d be free to motor to the land of exotic foodstuffs like Guava jelly for Granny, a ripe avocado for Great Aunt Diddy and a tin of Navy snuff for various grown ups. Oh! And every so often a Spanish Bar cake!! Back to the light. If the conditions were right for a timely change I’d fool my Mom into believing I had super powers and could make our red light turn green with my mind. She’d glance at me in wonder (every single time) and beg me to do my magic. I’d squint and say, “red light, green bright, please!” Sure enough it would change and Mom laughed and thanked me for keeping the car on its way to get filled with a week’s larder of vittles for nine experienced eaters and snuff dippers. After we got home she’d excitedly tell everyone of my magical powers and good manners (I’d said please). Wallace’s Mom is so like my Mom in a wetsuit.
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about 3 years ago
on Wallace the Brave
I grew up on a block with lots of Mothers and sidewalks right out of a earthquake disaster movie. Despite hop scotch, skipping and running with abandon every kid’s Mom was upright, strong and healthy so us young’uns laughed at such a medical impossibility. Ha! Ha we say! After a morning of playing in the car junk yard across the dirt street my little brother and I ran home for lunch and saw our uncle’s taking my Mom out of the house on an old door and putting her in the back of a pick up truck. She was wailing that she couldn’t sit up! Of course this made my brother and me horrified. My Uncle Ro… well, let’s call him Uncle Wiseacre, put his arms around us and very quietly asked, “which one of you stepped on a crack?” Waaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!! (For those wondering…slipped disc. Whew) Wallace sure does love his Mom.
Can you imagine if Wallace had lived on Bodega Bay? Love Birds for everyone!!