Why I'm Glad Munro Leaf Was Here

Munro Leaf explains, right from the start, that How to Behave and Why is "about how to have the most fun in living."

"...it doesn't matter whether you are a boy or a girl, a man or a woman -- the rules are all the same. How old we are isn't what counts.  The two biggest questions to ask ourselves in life, at any age, are:

Are most of the people I know glad that I am here?

Am I glad that I am here, myself?

Anyone who can honestly answer 'YES' to those two questions most of the time has learned to BEHAVE in this world and to live a happy life."

I'm glad Munro Leaf was here.

And I'm glad I'm here, the vast majority of the time.

In this space, I hope to accomplish a few things:

• I want to sing the praises of author Munro Leaf and chat about his books.  I feel qualified to do so as I've been reading him longer than any other author, as far as I can tell. (And I have my Master's degree in English, so I've had some training in talking about books.)  My copy of Ferdinand, according to the inscription inside its cover, was given to me when I was four years old. 

                    "To Jenni. Christmas 1971. Love Mother and Daddy."  

• In the spirit of Ruth Reichl's wonderful book Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise, I want to write about what I've learned as a (very, very small time) food reporter and restaurant profiler (and frequent restaurant patron) for a newspaper. (Hint: Unlike Reichl, I did not work for the New York Times.) Although I no longer am paid to visit restaurants or interview their chefs and managers for the newspaper, I still am a critic in disguise.  My disguise, unlike those Ms. Reichl had to employ, is, quite simply, my anonymity. I might have to join forces with my favorite sidekick, daughter Isabel and her wonderful blog Confessions of Fifth Grade Foodie (née: "Fourth Grade Foodie") in this work as well.

So what do foodies, restaurant reviews, and the author of Ferdinand have in common?  Courtesy.  

• That is the other theme of this blog:  courtesy.  

Sometimes I see people behave in surprising ways.  I was surprised a few days ago, for instance, when I saw a boy on my son's soccer team stop, return to the player on the opposing team whom he'd accidentally knocked over, and offer a hand to help him stand up. 

"I"m sorry, man," this 14 year-old boy said, choosing to focus on the person he'd flattened and not at the ball which was progressing down the field toward the other team's goal. 

"'S'okay," the other boy said. 

Here were these two soccer players whose teenaged bodies were coursing with adrenalin and who, only a few moments before, were fiercely battling over possession of the ball locked in a perfectly courteous moment. 

I felt like the balance in the universe shifted, just then.

I imagine that somewhere right before that exchange, an embittered adult was just about to make a disparaging comment about teenagers and stopped. A blanket of peace sort of fell over her shoulders and she forgot what she was going to say.

And we were all the better for it.