“Did you know they make many different types of steeldrums to choose from?” Samy, always the teacher, couldn’t stop himself. “Tenor, double tenor, soprano, quadrophonic, six pan, cello, seven bass. Some only give you a few notes, others hold a ton of them.”
“My pan makes all the sounds I need,” Bear number thirty-nine said. She sounded smug and confident.
“Pretend, of course?” Samy frowned and refilled his cup with dandelion root tea.
“Pretend, of course!” Bear number thirty-nine gave a sigh. It came from deep inside of her. She couldn’t understand why grown-ups had to put everything into drawers.
A drawer for reality.
A drawer for virtual reality.
A drawer for magic.
A drawer for pretend.
No wonder they got confused. If she owned a giant closet with a thousand drawers she wouldn’t be able to find anything either. Words were stuff you played with.
Bear number thirty-nine didn’t know about Samy Lucius Putnam’s magical world. She didn’t know that he just wanted her to understand labels, not use them. She was still a little Bear.
Before the afternoon was over a girl came to their tea table. She carried one drum under each arm.
“Hey, look! A double second. Or is it a double tenor? Have a seat young lady.”
“Double Second. Hello. I am Bear number forty. I saw your ad on Ursaslist. I’d love to be in your band.”
It was Bear number thirty-nine’s turn to frown. Ursaslist? What’s that?
Samy leaned forward and explained. “While I was waiting for the water to boil I posted your request for girl musicians on the Internet. My friend Ursa has a great community website for Bear news. You know about Ursa Major, don’t you?
A blank stare.
Samy made a mental note to teach a bit of Bear genealogy later. But first things first. “Why don’t we let Bear number forty audition; I am eager to hear the tonal range of her drums.”
“My pan makes all the sounds I need,” Bear number thirty-nine said. She sounded smug and confident.
“Pretend, of course?” Samy frowned and refilled his cup with dandelion root tea.
“Pretend, of course!” Bear number thirty-nine gave a sigh. It came from deep inside of her. She couldn’t understand why grown-ups had to put everything into drawers.
A drawer for reality.
A drawer for virtual reality.
A drawer for magic.
A drawer for pretend.
No wonder they got confused. If she owned a giant closet with a thousand drawers she wouldn’t be able to find anything either. Words were stuff you played with.
Bear number thirty-nine didn’t know about Samy Lucius Putnam’s magical world. She didn’t know that he just wanted her to understand labels, not use them. She was still a little Bear.
Before the afternoon was over a girl came to their tea table. She carried one drum under each arm.
“Hey, look! A double second. Or is it a double tenor? Have a seat young lady.”
“Double Second. Hello. I am Bear number forty. I saw your ad on Ursaslist. I’d love to be in your band.”
It was Bear number thirty-nine’s turn to frown. Ursaslist? What’s that?
Samy leaned forward and explained. “While I was waiting for the water to boil I posted your request for girl musicians on the Internet. My friend Ursa has a great community website for Bear news. You know about Ursa Major, don’t you?
A blank stare.
Samy made a mental note to teach a bit of Bear genealogy later. But first things first. “Why don’t we let Bear number forty audition; I am eager to hear the tonal range of her drums.”
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