If Richard and I can grow a beanstalk, surely I can get Rapunzel to let down her hair. Can't I?
Parr Park is located about a mile from our street. The house pictured above sits perfectly perched atop a hill overlooking the park. So majestic is this home with its peaked roofs and full length windows, it's hard not to imagine which rich and famous person must be taking up residence there.
As far as Matthew is concerned there is no question. Rapunzel. That's who.
From the start, Matthew has been certain this remotely placed home, made of stone, surrounded by trees, and fully decked with the requisite tower, is the very tower where Rapunzel is being held captive.
After all, If a bean stalk could grow through his window overnight then why shouldn't he think it is possible Rapunzel took up residence in his hometown?
Think it's funny?
Really funny is watching Matthew stand at the base of the hill, yelling with all his might, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair, so I may climb the golden stair!"
The Rapunzel dream has been fun for me too. I've written a fairy tale entirely my own. In my fairy tale I write a letter to the residents asking... no begging... that they let me drop a 40 foot braid from their turret. That same day, Matthew and I "happen" to be walking the park when suddenly Matthew spots Rapunzel's golden stair. Imagine... the look of amazement on his face!
There's nothing like a little National Literacy Month to make one take action. Last Saturday was to be the day.
I climbed the 147 not-so-golden-stairs, running along side this 400 foot long driveway that, regardless of theorem, must be sitting at a 40 degree angle. Huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, I rang the door bell. A very pleasant Asian woman answered the door and immediately I launched into my pitch...
My son.. he thinks Rapunzel lives in your... Are you familiar with story of Rapunz... well anyway, Matthew is convinced Rapunzel lives in the turret of your home. Would there be any... I mean... do you think it would be possible if I... my husband... or you, if you would prefer, could hang a long braid from the top? Not a real... I'd make it from sheets dyed yello... with a big red bow. I know it sounds craz...but do you think... What do you think?
The woman let me finish my pitch and then politely informed me the windows don't open - that there would be no way to hang the braid. No ladder, she explained, could even reach the window sill. Not even I, who considers my husband to be her knight in shinning armor and volunteers him for just about anything, could envision how he could get up on the ledge to attach Rapunzel's braid long enough to take a picture.
Let down. Big time.
This fairy tale didn't quite end happily ever after. Rapunzel will never drop her golden stair and Matthew's childhood belief that Rapunzel lives in the turret will never be affirmed.
But here's my moral of the story. Believing is powerful. Believing is the very thing that keeps life magical. I genuinely believed, that if I could make my pitch to the homeowners, I could convince them to play along. And, short of the windows not opening, I believe I was right.
Believing is what allows us to see possibility when others only see the mundane. Believing motivates us to ask more from others, while the rest of the world is busy retreating into smaller and more insulated worlds. Believing is unlimited in supply and therefore softens the blow of any single disappointment we must encounter.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it. How about you? What's your moral of the story?
P.S. Loyal Highlowaha readers will be interested in knowing today is Katie's birthday!