A Tree House

Throughout my life I have adored silly-humor ... or just weird imaginations. There is something about Roald Dahl, Dr. Suess and Shel Silverstien (and a few others) that just amuse me, make me laugh aloud, even when I am in a room by myself. When I was younger, my dad took me to see the Suessical Musical on Broadway ... and that was my best Christmas present that year ... there is something about the absurdity about it all, that just makes me think, I wonder if God thinks this is funny ... I think he does ... silliness, laughing, Horton the elephant, the twisted-up man, the roses that squeak when they are plucked and can only be heard by a sound machine ... this imagination, I believe, is God-created and at the core, purely His ... and that is just fun ... and joyous.

I was reading Where the Sidewalk Ends tonight in my room. I used to read this a lot during my early college years and laugh with friends ... so here's a poem for the night.

A tree house, a free house
A secret you and me house,
A high up in the leafy branches
Cozy as can be house.

A street house, a neat house,
Be sure and wipe your feet house
Is not my kind of house at all -
Let's go live in a tree house.

Now I never had a tree house, although I'm sure my dad would have built me one if we had lived somewhere for more than two years when I was a child. There is something about tree houses, the Robinson's or whatever that family that lived in the tree jungle's names were ... I dreamt of a house like that. It sounds fun, although I'm sure it has it's downfalls, you don't need to bring me down from my cloud yet. In the movie, Hook, the lost boys live in little tree bungalows ... where they yell "Goodnight Neverland" and little Tinkerbell flies off into the full moon, over the cliffs and shores ... that could be my home, maybe it will be. You'll see.