Disney and Pixar, please stop killing parents

Last night, the hubby and I watched Disney and Pixar’s latest collaboration, “The Good Dinosaur.”

When I first saw previews for the film, I wasn’t overly eager to see it. But last night was a humdrum evening and we decided to drive up to the theater. I was in the mood for popcorn and soda.

The movie was better than I anticipated. I genuinely laughed at several parts. (The hubby is still shaking his head over how much I laughed at the cowboy T-rexes. Seriously, though … you try watching a T-rex shout, “Hyah!” and gallop away like he’s riding a horse when he’s actually just galloping like kids do when they ride stick horses. I don’t know how he was stoic enough to only smile and not break into fits of giggles.)

The plot had a decent (if slightly heavy handed) message, too, about overcoming fear and making a mark on the world. The “make your mark” conversation put me strongly in mind of Peter H. Reynolds’ children’s book “The Dot.” If I had children, I would host a home viewing of “The Good Dinosaur” to correspond with International Dot Day.

GDTrex

A galloping T-rex herding cattle!

I also like that the villains of the film weren’t the T-rexes. (After all, it would be harder to laugh at their galloping if they tried to eat Arlo, the main character. I’d have to assume an appropriately outraged expression whenever they came on screen.) A different breed of dinosaur turned out to be the bad guys.

But the movie had one sticking point for me. Early in the film, Arlo and his dad chase after a “critter” (a.k.a. a dog-like human eventually christened Spot). When a storm hits, Arlo’s dad is swept away when the river breaks its banks, and he dies. Within about another 15 minutes of storytelling (maybe even less), the critter returns to Arlo’s family farm. He tries to chase the critter off, only to fall into the river and be swept away.

Why didn’t Arlo just get swept away while he and his father were chasing the critter instead of killing off his dad?

GDarlopoppa

Arlo and his dad

There was no real need in the plot to kill Arlo’s father. It would have made plenty of sense to have Arlo get swept away while he and his dad were in the woods. The rest of the movie is about Arlo trying to get home and bonding with Spot on the journey. At the end of the movie (spoiler alert!), Arlo makes it home and runs to his mother. Why not have him make it home and run to both parents?

There’s a scene near the end in which Arlo dreams/hallucinates his dad is with him. Then he realizes it’s not real. That still could’ve worked with Dad being alive. Arlo could think he’s been found and is safe with his father, only to realize it’s a false sense of security. It actually makes more sense to do that if the father’s alive. Why would Arlo think his father’s really there if he’s dead and buried back at the family farm?

Disney has a long history of killing off parents (or simply never explaining where they are — where is Andy’s dad in the Toy Story films?). Can’t all movies be like “The Incredibles,” with both parents alive and raising their children?

Yes, yes, I know The Atlantic offered an explanation about why cartoon mothers are often absent. The reasoning is likely on target, too.

But in “The Good Dinosaur,” it just doesn’t make sense. Arlo still could’ve been swept away, had his adventure, and made it home safe and sound to both parents.

All in all, though, it’s a good film. Judging by the gales of laughter from the kids in the theater, it’s especially a hit for young viewers.

Posted in Children and Family | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

That time I gave funerals to caterpillars

I was eight years old the year our home got covered in caterpillars.

Well, not our home, really. But our property. They were everywhere in the flower gardens, the grass, the driveway. Tall, stalky holly hocks stood sentinel around the garage, and they turned furry with black-and-orange woolly bear caterpillars. You had to be careful where you stepped in the gravel around the cars; the little white caterpillars blended in with the rocks. The solid orange ones stood out wherever they went. The solid black ones blended in to nooks and crannies.

It was late summer when they started turning up. The season was warm but not the stiflingly hot that usually comes with late August in Illinois.

On a Sunday afternoon, while Mom tended her flower garden, I sat nearby in a patch of dirt, petting a collection of fuzzy caterpillars. I had scouted the yard throughout the afternoon, plucking caterpillar-bearing leaves off plants and leaving a pile of caterpillars in my dirt patch. Few of them bothered to escape — they seemed content to sit on their leaves, regardless of whether the leaf was attached to a plant or deposited in bare yard.

I remember having a bounty of caterpillars, although in reality I probably only had four or five. To my eight-year-old self, that was a lot. Content with my efforts to round up furry-crawly playmates, I sat down to pet them and play with them.

CaterpillarExcept when I touched them, they curled up and no longer moved.

I could only assume I had killed them. We were always told not to touch butterfly wings because we might hurt them. Caterpillars turned into butterflies, so it made sense that touching a caterpillar might also hurt or kill them.

Grabbing a stick, I dug a series of graves in the dirt, all in a row. I dumped a caterpillar in each grave, then covered it up.

It was in the burial process that my older sister came outside and spotted my digging — and burying something — in the dirt. In true nosy older sister form, she approached me and asked what I was doing.

“Burying my caterpillars,” I said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because they’re dead.”

“Did you squish them?”

“No. I touched them. They curled up and died.”

At this point, she raised her voice to tell me caterpillars weren’t dead when they curled up; they did that out of defense because they’re scared.

Fortunately for the caterpillars, my graves were shallow. One had already risen like a zombie and was inching away, dirt shaking off its fur with every step. I dug out a few more — a white one had turned completely gray with grime as it crawled away.

One had to be reburied, though. The afternoon’s events proved to kill it after all.

SHARE YOUR STORIES

I’m collecting tales of childhood mischief over at the Contest page. One person’s story of being a young rascal will be selected to be written into my upcoming middle grade novel, “The Mountain of Dempsey Molehill.” Visit the Contest page for details.

Posted in Children and Family | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Book Review: Sarah and Katy and the Book of Blank by Julie Barichello

A hearty thanks goes to Scifi and Scary Book Reviews for taking the time to read and review “Sarah & Katy and the Book of Blank”! I have a good imagination, but I never imagined I’d earn 5-Cthulhu review.

Yep, you read that right. You won’t find 5-star ratings over at Scifi and Scary. You’ll find Cthulhu ratings. (And they are glorious things — scroll to the end of any review to see Cthulhu, who I’m pretty sure is wearing sunglasses.)

Check out the Sarah & Katy review below, or visit scifiandscary.wordpress.com to check out the many science fiction, horror, and children’s books reviews available.

Posted in Writing | Leave a comment

Your childhood mischief could inspire a book chapter

If you have an entertaining tale of childhood mischief, your anecdote could inspire a chapter in my next book.

Now through April 30, I am collecting memories of childhood shenanigans for my upcoming middle grade novel, “The Mountain of Dempsey Molehill.” The book follows a year in the life of the Molehill family and the mayhem the five children cause when their father runs for mayor.

Some events in the book are completely fabricated. Others, such as when one of the Molehill children decides to build an elephant trap in the backyard, are inspired by true stories in my family.

Because the truth can be stranger — and often, infinitely more entertaining — than fiction, I’m opening the door for others to share a story to inspire Molehill mischief.

The winning submission will be used as inspiration for scenes in the book. Multiple entries per person will be accepted, but all stories should be true. Submissions should be events in which the entrant was involved or was present to witness. Anecdotes can be mischievous memories from the entrant’s own childhood or about the entrant’s children.

The winner will be notified in May and be credited in the book’s acknowledgments. To submit a story, go to juliestroebelbarichello.com/contests (or click the Contests tab at the top of the page) and fill out the form.

“The Mountain of Dempsey Molehill” has a tentative release date of summer 2017.

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The inspiration behind the next book

I come from a family of storytellers.

Stories were as much a part of dinner as Mom’s home cooking. We would tell stories about our days at work or school. During holiday and family gatherings, we would reminisce on holidays past and listen to our parents, aunts, and uncles share tales from their childhood.

My family is rich with stories that tend to get grander in the retelling. Uncle Fred’s elephant trap. A homemade bazooka with marble bullets. Kite-flying in a tornado. The mysterious disappearing rabbit who locked its cage behind it.

The stories are always told with enthusiasm and laughter. Each illustrates a chapter of childhood, the mischief and mayhem of youth.

Those stories are the inspiration for “The Mountain of Dempsey Molehill.”

Dempsey Molehill is the middle child in a family of five children. The story follows a year in the life of the Molehills — the year Dempsey’s father runs for mayor. The Molehills are a bit of town outcasts (think Addams family, minus the ghoulishness), but they have a strong sense of family and healthy dose of mischief. After the year recounted in the book, the Molehill children will have plenty of stories to recount at their own dinner table.

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment