King of the Monsters

Sandra Dodd to Deb Lewis:

If I could describe all your writing in just a few words, it might be "Peace, humor and scary monsters." Dylan's life has involved a lot of Godzilla and that ilk. Scooby Doo and Godzilla.

Deb Lewis:

Yes, a lot of Godzilla, beginning when he was very little. And then any movie with a monster, or any book about monsters. And then all kinds of horror and science fiction. Godzilla was the gateway monster, though, and it started with a movie marathon on television. I couldn’t have guessed then, when he was three years old, that he would find a lifetime of happiness in horror! And I didn’t know then that his love of monster movies would lead to learning to read and write, finding authors, making connections to other cultures, (and more movies and authors) and connections to music, theater, poetry, folklore, art, history... It turned out to be this rich and wonderful experience he might have missed, and I might never have understood if I’d said no to TV, or to Godzilla, King of the Monsters.

Before Dylan was reading or writing really well, he’d meticulously copy the titles and dates of movies he wanted, and request them from interlibrary loan. All that writing, and all the time spent watching movies with subtitles helped him read and write better. I remember the feeling of joy and wonder, mixed with some sadness and loss when he didn’t need me to read movie subtitles to him anymore. I learned so much about learning.

There's Even MORE at
Montana to Italy via Godzilla
(an interview with Deb Lewis)
photo by Deb Lewis

A Monstrous Imagination

Deb Lewis once wrote, of her son Dylan:

Dylan's imagination took off when he saw his first monster movie. Monsters! Guys in monster suits. There are monster suits?! Model trains, model railroads, model cities, model tanks, model soldiers. Giant moths. Flying turtles. When he was four he'd say to me "Mom, do you want to watch Gammera? Flying turtles! You don't see that every day!" And, by golly, you don't.

And when he saw the animation of Ray Harryhausen the parade of clay monsters through our house was jaw-dropping genius.

And when he played his first Playstation game his mind was going so fast he didn't have time to change out of his pj's. How do you kill the Dragon? How can you get past the troll on the bridge? How do you defeat the Cyclops? Could you really fling a cow in a trebuchet? Anyone who thinks these things don't inspire and require imagination is too disinterested or unimaginative to think about it much.

—Deb Lewis

SandraDodd.com/imagination
photo by Sandra Dodd
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Fascinating

"One dark spooky night not so long ago, under a full moon and while the wind howled....my 5-year-old developed a fascination for monsters."

—Amy Kagey

Monster Mania
and one monster leads to another...
photo by Colleen Prieto

Too much of "too much"

Some people seem terrified of a monster they have imagined called "Screen Time."

I don't see them trying to put limits on paper time, or cloth time, or time with other people. I've never heard anyone say "That's enough 'imagination time' now."

SandraDodd.com/screentime

Photo by Robin Yaeger! Several people took photos that night and if you click it you can see others of an impromptu Beatles Rock Band fest that took place during the Monkeyplatter Festival in 2009.

Shine the light

In advice to a fearful mom, Tara Joe Farrel wrote:

Unschooling advice—or deschooling oneself—does not change just because the kids get older: *Get closer to your child.*

Eliminate those degrees of separation that have started to grow fearful roots in you! When that happens, *you* actually start to *create* that divisiveness and separation in your relationship, by listening to your fear over the needs and interests of your kid. Do not let that monster in! Shine the light on the scary cobwebs and dark stuff.

—Tara Joe Farrell

Shining light on it
photo by Karen James
(click to enlarge)
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Breathing and safety

Deep breaths change everything, for a few moments.

From Tiny Monsters, which deals with my firstborn being four, and one of my own early memories:

I have something of a monster antidote: breathing. Breathe deeply and calmly. Get oxygen into that part of you that fears the tiny monsters. Once you master calming your hurts and fears (or at least calming the adrenaline that would make you lash out), you'll have time to think about how to deal with them rationally and sweetly and compassionately.

Breathing (a later page)
photo by Sandra Dodd

Breathing and safety

Deep breaths change everything, for a few moments.

From Tiny Monsters, which deals with my firstborn being four, and one of my own early memories:

I have something of a monster antidote: breathing. Breathe deeply and calmly. Get oxygen into that part of you that fears the tiny monsters. Once you master calming your hurts and fears (or at least calming the adrenaline that would make you lash out), you'll have time to think about how to deal with them rationally and sweetly and compassionately.

Breathing
photo by Sandra Dodd

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There were two sweet comments in 2010 when this was first published.