thoughts on Rudolph and the Island of Misfit Toys

After Thanksgiving dinner at a friends house, I talked three other Baby Boomers into watching the DVD RUDOLPH AND THE ISLAND OF MISFIT TOYS. Sometimes I think someone should write a post-doctoral thesis on this film. Or maybe just a quick article for a writer's magazine, explaining how the story follows The Hero's Journey.

While trying to find the above picture on line, I read all kinds of analysis of this great animated classic, based on burning questions about why the doll on the Island of Misfit Toys is a misfit and whether Hermie is gay. These things are not the point!

First, male offspring born into ordinary world (well--ordinary for him). Has an unusual trait which makes him an object of ridicule. Meets a female operating on a transcendent spiritual plane who sees his nonconformity as a plus. Her father divides them. Rudolph runs away and meets up with another misfit, Herbie the elf, who doesn't like to make toys and wants to be a dentist. They fall in with Yukon Cornelius, a miner with an unusual dog team. Rudolph visits the non-ordinary world, the Island of Misfit Toys, learns that he can't run away from his problems, and returns to the ordinary world with his message. And so on. . . .

In any case, like the classic first STAR WARS, this script is loaded with excellent dialogue. Herbie describing himself as "just not happy in my work." The coach of the reindeer games who declares, "From now on, we won't let Rudolph join in . . ." Herbie, upon meeting Rudolph and hearing his story: "Hey, what do you say we both be independent together?" And later: "It's the Abominable. He sees your nose. Quick! Douse the light!" Meanwhile, when Rudolph's mother wants to go look for her son, his father says, "No. This is man's work."

What more could anyone want? For Rudolph to continue to be a polite young reindeer. When Santa asks him to guide his sleigh, Rudolph doesn't just say yes. He says, "It will be an honor, sir."

Dolores La Chapelle

More than a year and a half has passed since my friend Dolores died. I keep wanting to have conversations with her--the kind where she brings out something she has just read to show me, the column in THE NEW YORKER she wants me to read, the kind of time together where, when it's time to part, we're already talking about what we'll do next time, and she says, "There are so many things to do." Poems to discuss and copy down, customs of other countries to enthuse about, walks to take, nettles to cut and brew. There is really an ache inside me where she was. Some days I wake and she's alive inside me, and I'm devouring new reading, new thoughts, but I still want to talk to someone about these things, and that person is her.

What would we talk about today, Dolores? This book I'm reading called WOMEN OF THE LIGHT: THE NEW SACRED PROSTITUTE by Kenneth Ray Stubbs, the idea of prostitutes as offerers of compassion. You and I went to THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES together. We talked about our birth experiences on the way home. Before the play, you showed me pictures of Sheila na Gigs on Irish churches in your large book about Ireland. I had a Sheila na Gig in my home, and I gave it to you for your 80th birthday. I could only have given it to someone I really love and admire. I would also talk to you about TECHNICIANS OF ECSTASY by Mark Levy, which I'm reading for the third time. I would talk about the shamanic trance and writing. But what I miss is what YOU would say. You would say things I hadn't thought about before, show me something I've never seen.

We would walk in Cunningham Gulch and listen to the water and shout at each other, both of us hard of hearing. But the water speaks clearly. In the car on the way and way back, Gudrun would kiss you. Eldar and I would show you his Drop on Command, and you'd be impressed all over again, with him.

dance troupe

Chirs has named her over all dance company Tallulah, which means "leaping water" in Choctaw. AND, she's named us, her troupe, Caldera, which was also the name of the fire-dancing troupe in GOOD WITH CHILDREN. I love this. We danced for three hours last night.

my favorite photographer

John Matsko took this photo of me last summer. A great day; we visited with two shepherds from Peru. We admired each others' dogs and took photos together. Some of the shepherds' dogs are incredible. Once, my German shepherds met a Great Pyranees (sp?) looking after a flock of sheep. No aggression between any of the dogs--on the contrary, a friendly meeting--but I think that big white dog told my two to keep away from the sheep, because that's what they did.

dance troupe

Bellydance catapulted me into mood stratospheres. We all danced with Ismail during Jam, trading him around. He was sociable, no ball python neuroses, and I thank him and girl dancer goddess friends. Next week, maybe Laka will have shed and will join us. She likes to dance, is also mobile, comfortable, social . . . Her photo above.

and performing circus

Wrote today on my next Harlequin Superromance Everlasting Love, very romantic and full of DOGS. The heroine dumps her fiance because he raises Norfolk Terriers and she has German Shepherd Dogs. Just kidding. It's because she's in love with the hero, of course, and has been since she first noticed boys.

I'm really happy with positive words about HOLDING THE BABY, my October Harlequin American.

Enough work. I'm learning to spin poi, using practice poi and some excellent ones with LEDs. Also, have a flowstaff and practice with that, combining these things with bellydance. Laka (spider ball python) is great dance partner, beautiful and teaching me how to move. Hadi's pretty shy these days, not keen to dance, would prefer to tie himself in a knot. More socialization necessary.

Ismail eats!

Yes! Two dead mice. He seemed to want privacy in which to eat them, which makes sense. When a snake is eating, he's quite vulnerable. I'm relieved that the hunger strike is over.

Got copies of HOLDING THE BABY. My family members are reading it and saying great things. I believe they're sincere, though I think they'd resist actually trashing my writing.

Ismail is shedding

This handsome guy is getting ready to shed and isn't sociable or hungry. Cornsnake Ahmed got shirty when I offered him a mouse, rattled his tail and struck defensively at the mouse. A clear, "No, thank you! Go away!"

back to the wild

Just returned from the Bay Area and the Romance Writers of America conference. Great parties with wonderful people I hadn't seen for years and am crazy about. Toured The Crucible with the father of my child and longed to stay and learn to spin poi and weld. Rode CalTrain and BART and had an excellent inspiration. A romance grabbed me and won't let go. I'm home and inspired.

Also reunited with Eldar Good Puppy, Gudrun Good Girl, and the other denizens of the Wild Kingdom. Sadly, Lucy, my Togo Starburst tarantula died while I was gone. I suspected it might happen. She was my only wild-caught spider, brought from Africa as an adult, age unknown. She'd been with me >5 years and was an unusually sweet member of the species. In all the time I had her, I never saw her in a threat display. It was sad to lose her.

Everybody else is great. Pastel ball python Ismail has been less voracious than usual this summer. He eats frozen thawed mice. I bought an extra-large size, older breeder mice, and he doesn't fancy them. Only the cornsnakes notice no difference--or don't let it stand in the way of eating.

Bellydance classes don't start for a couple of weeks, but I've seen my buds around, and it's great to be home. Tomorrow--running with Baby Gu (aka Gudrun). Eldar and I have been to the post office. Dogs need their nails clipped. Will happen tonight or tomorrow.