Orphans in the Woods

So yesterday in the library I was talking with a co-worker about the book From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (by E.L. Konigsburg). And that got me thinking about how much I liked that movie when I was younger.

The kids lived in a museum! They ran away from home and lived in a museum! They slept in a huge old bed, wandered around the halls, swam around in the fountain... ah, the independent, adventurous life!

When I was little, I played a recurring game with my sister (and other friends, if they happened to be around): orphans. My parents tried to not be offended by the fact that we continuously imagined life without them.

For whatever reason, I was drawn to imaginary games that involved fending for myself. Living off the land. Traveling like a gypsy and picking wild berries for breakfast. I blame the Boxcar Children. Ever read those books? The first book tells the story of four orphaned children who live in an old abandoned boxcar and take care of themselves. In other books in the series, they have various adventures and make their own food and forage for tools and dishes and things. For fun, since by this time they have been adopted by their kind, rich, grandfather.

Now that's the life! I wanted to have adventures! I loved those books where kids were on their own, on a mission somewhere or doing their own thing. Kid power! My childhood wasn't exciting enough, apparently.

I even decided to write a book about orphans living on their own, making pancake syrup from tree sap and such. I was about ten years old, and the whole thing was a complete rip-off of the Boxcar Children.

Books and imagination were huge parts of my childhood. But you probably could've guessed that already.