Thinking Cap

July 6th, 2008
During a recent visit to Seattle, my granddaughter asked her mother to make her a hat. Just a couple of simple folds later, and voila, she was absorbed in the wearing of it all afternoon. Who knows what went on in her head, what worlds she conquered, what vistas stretched ahead at the bottom of the lawn, what dreams were born that will reach fruition years in the future as she writes a musical, commands a ship, paints a mural based on an intense childhood memory or publishes a newspaper of her own. I remembered long-gone summers when everything around me seemed filled with meaning and possibility–climbing on a fence at dusk in my nightgown and imagining what lay beyond the mist-filled field that stretched in the distance. Just the neighbor’s farm–more of the same thing that was on my grandfather’s farm–but I longed for it to be a foreign land, something utterly magical to reach for, a place behind the prosaic ground I stood upon. That memory still tugs at my emotions…it’s why I loved The Golden Compass, why a visual journal connects so viscerally with the storybooks I fell into as a kid, why I’m always searching for Something More.