Bedtime Stories

The greatest storytellers can inspire generations. I ought to know because I grew up with the best storyteller in the world—my dad. While most kids crave a song or two at bedtime, or perhaps having a book read to them, I always looked forward to the sun going down because it meant story time with Daddy.

          An avid reader and fan of fantasy, Daddy seemed to have no end of imagination when it came to creating stories for me. He often used my stuffed animals who, to a highly imaginative four-year-old, were often as real as any kid in the neighborhood. There were the mischievous hijinks of Henry, a blue rabbit who has since gone blind in one eye, and his more level-headed friend Gladys, a squeaky soft plastic rabbit whose one erect ear was perfect for teething when I was a babe. There were the companion tales of Henry the dog (same name, but a different animal) and Teo, a patchwork lion with a floppy neck who is now blind in both eyes.

          And then there were the adventures of Princess Beth and Tony, her faithful tiger companion. Now every girl fancies herself a princess, but in these tales, I was a warrior princess, capable of slaying ogres and dragons with my trusty sword. Tony, a fierce fighter as well, also served as my advisor. He was both wise and cunning, and oftentimes when we found ourselves in peril, it was his clever thinking that saved our hides.

          Somehow, Daddy managed to pack what would have been a three-hour Peter Jackson film into fifteen minutes every night. There was always a lesson (Henry the rabbit learned not to lie, not to steal, and not to cheat, and never, ever to run away from home without telling Gladys where he was going!). I think that was how Daddy cleverly established the moral code that was expected in our household. Being able to read and infer were vital tools for Princess Beth and Tony, so I learned the value of education. Henry the dog and Teo illustrated friendship despite obvious differences, so I learned how not to see people for what they were but rather who they were. Henry the rabbit—well, let’s just say I learned everything I shouldn’t do from him.

          All these years later, I still have my faithful storytelling companions. They are a constant reminder to me of the value of stories and the impact they can make on someone, regardless of age. Plus, whenever I look at one of them, I am taken back to a much more innocent time when bedtime was the most enchanting part of the day because of the stories my Daddy would tell. Thank you, Daddy, for planting that seed.