Peter Pan is my
favorite book, as you probably know if you have read any of my interviews. The
first version of Peter Pan that I
remember was a Disney picture book that I had memorized as a child. I did not
learn to read until I was six, but I remember pretending to read this book for guests at a younger age.
In the third grade, I read the real book. I had no idea, at
the time, of what a challenging read it is for an eight-year-old. I just loved the story. I loved that there were
elements of the story I had never heard of before. I loved the Wendy house and the scene where Wendy falls after
accidentally being shot by the lost boys, and I loved the scene where Peter
stands on the rock after letting Wendy fly away on the kite and prepares to
face his own death.
Great stuff!
Many years later, my sister and I traveled to Scotland. I
had wanted to go to Scotland ever since reading another book, Sally Watson’s Witch of the Glens; but when planning my
itinerary, I learned that James Barrie had been born in Kirriemuir, Scotland. I
had to go there.
My sister thought I was crazy. It was off the tourist track
a whole—I don’t know—two hours? I insisted.
We went. And we had the best time. We saw the real Wendy
house, a laundry shed behind the family’s home. We had our pictures taken
there. We saw James Barrie’s writing desk, where I believe he actually wrote Peter Pan. (In an absolutely unreal
number of limited drafts). I found a copy of the The White Bird, the first book to feature Peter Pan, in a local
bookstore. And we bought lemon pound cake and strawberries at the local
grocery, which was by far the most affordable and most memorable meal I ate in
Scotland.
There was a light flitting around the upstairs of the museum/house
where James Barrie was born. Tinker Bell, of course.
Promptly after my last blog post, my friend, Dawn, magically
repaired all of the snarled stitches in my website links.
This week she is
Tinker Bell.
Thank you so much, Dawn!
