I’m Not Lion
Dear Kids and All Readers,
Somewhere, in nearly every work of fiction, is a little piece of the author’s life–added with tongue in cheek or, possibly, to cement the object or idea in immortality.
This addition could be something significant like a character’s personality trait or journey, mirroring the author’s. But it could be something miniscule like a song, poem, or object referenced that has hidden meaning for the writer.
In my Book 2, Eucalyptus Street: Green Curse, there is a remnant from my childhood that’s still a part of my life, namely, lions. So, it’s little wonder that lions figure prominently at the de Cordoba mansion, as you know if you’ve read the book. Some artists’ creations are from scratch, but lions “came naturally” to me. Why?
As a child, I would hurry to my friend Mary’s house many blocks away to play. The most direct route would take me past a pair of identical stone lions. They majestically flanked the walkway leading to a tall wrought iron gate and the steps to the front porch of a pretty Spanish stucco house. It still has the plaque with the words “The Lion House” by the front door. I remember stopping occasionally to admire the full-maned animal twins, even patting them on their heads. Was the attraction because I, too, am a twin? Perhaps.
Years later, in the 1980s, I would walk my then little daughter past the same male lions. Despite their obvious gender, she named them “Cindy” and “Linda,” and that’s how she would greet them whenever we passed. The current owners named them “Max” and “Scotty,” but to my now-adult daughter, they’ll always be “Cindy” and “Linda”!
No one seems to remember how the lions came to be at The Lion House almost one hundred years ago. But the family that has lived there for at least ten years has maintained them, even “dressing” the lions to match the holidays–Game of Thrones costumes for Halloween, masks for the pandemic, and patriotic bunting for the Fourth of July! The lions are on my walking route; I get to continue to enjoy them and reconnect to my childhood year round.
So, get a clue, Readers. What are some significant objects in your lives? Like me, do you still get pleasure from them? I hope you’ll create a work of art to anchor them to your history.
