12-016
H and G
I know, I know. You don’t have to
tell me twice. I get it. And it takes a big man to admit when he makes a
blunder. Okay, I’ll come clean. What I did was read “Hansel and Gretel” to my
young nieces and nephews.
Sitting on the floor around me,
they have the courtesy to listen as I begin the classic fairy tale. For my
part, I have not read the story in many years, so the experience is going to be
a heartfelt trip back to my own youth.
The little tykes are wide-eyed
before I finish the first paragraph. You remember, it’s the one that mentions
how H and G have a stepmother who does not love the two kids.
Next, my kin learn that the
stepmother talks H and G’s father into abandoning them in a forest. They’re
crying now. My nieces and nephews. I persist and read on. Hansel uses a clever
plan to find their way home. The crying reverts to just a sob or two as the
kids recognize there is hope.
The plot thickens. That trip into
the forest is repeated at the stepmother’s insistence, and Mr. Dad takes the
kids even deeper into the woods. This time Hansel’s cleverness is trumped by
some birds, and the kids are crying once more and are very sad.
This is a “fairy tale.” Through
their tears, the kids are looking around the room to see where their dads are.
One of the nieces runs to her mother, dodging around her father.
The crying turns to hysteria when
the kids learn that Hansel and Gretel are grabbed by – big surprise here –
a witch. A witch who plans to fatten
Hansel so she can eat him. A couple of the nieces and nephews are now
prostrated on the floor, their senses numbed.
I persist again. I can’t stop.
It’s irresistible. What in heaven’s name is going to happen next? How can I
stomp all over the youthful innocence of these relatives of mine? It happens
that it becomes Gretel’s turn to display some cleverness. This she does by
pushing the witch into a large flaming oven and slamming the door shut with a
consequence the author does not enlarge upon knowing we get the idea. The kids
sure do. They’d be screaming at this point if they had any strength left.
I quickly go on to the part when H
and G discover a treasure trove at the witch’s cottage (are you kidding me?)
and take it home to daddy whose harpy of a wife is no longer there. Happiness
reigns. My young kinfolk don’t seem to care. They are almost catatonic.
I am not invited back to that
house, I don’t get birthday cards from them that year, the annual summer family
reunion is held without me, and somebody toilet papers my magnolia tree.
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