Monday Interview Series: The Ugly Duckling

Last week when I was in New Hampshire, I saw a couple flocks of geese flying above us in a nice "V" formation. It occurred to me that soon we'll be seeing them as they fly south for the winter, kind of an unsettling thought, but fall, and then winter, will be here before you know it.

This line of thought gave me the idea to get in touch with someone who is very familiar with flying south--the Ugly Duckling. I thought it might be interesting to see how he's doing and what his memories are of his tumultuous childhood.

Greg:  Thanks for flying by. So, what are you up to these days?

Duckling:  Well, the usual things swans do, swim on ponds, soar through the air, look graceful.

Greg:  I suppose it's a far cry from the days of your youth.

Duckling:  Oh my, yes. Those were trying times, I can tell you. I thought that I had no future. I certainly did not have a place to call home.

Greg: Tell us a little bit about that. That is, if it's not too painful.

Duckling:  It is rather, but that's all right. My therapist says it's healthy for me to talk these things out. Let's see, I suppose I should start at the beginning. Do I need to lie down?

Greg:  No, that's okay, I'm not a therapist.

Duckling:  It all started right after I was hatched. I was different from my siblings, being much larger and gangly than them. My beak was too big, and I was a different color. The animals in the barnyard called me ugly, and the description stuck.

My mother was very supportive, but my father...well let's just say he wanted nothing to do with me. That was a very hard thing to overcome.

Greg:  Yes, I can see how troubling that could be. But you said that you had no place to call home.

Duckling:  That's right. I couldn't take the daily persecution, so I left the farm as soon as I was able to waddle. It was no fun being alone in the world at such a young age, I can tell you. But, I've always had an independent streak in me. My therapist says it comes from having to fend for my self so early in life.

Anyway, I stumbled upon some flocks of wild ducks and geese. They were only a little more tolerant of my looks than the more refined society of the barnyard was. That's saying something, because wild animals are a tough crowd. 

Greg:  Things were better, why didn't you stay with them?

Duckling:  Because of the hunters. They made life miserable for us, and shot quite a few ducks and geese. No, that pond was no place for the faint of heart. I decided that the risks were too great, so I took off from there. Not literally, you understand, I was still too young to fly.

Greg:  Oh my. Where did you go then?

Duckling:  I stumbled upon the cottage of an old woman. She was an old dear. I felt like a little sultan under her roof. She took good care of me for a while. But she had other pets--a cat and a hen. We did not get along well at all. They teased me endlessly about my looks. It was more than I could stand. 

Everywhere I went it was the same. All anyone saw was the way I looked, not the bird I was beneath the feathers and behind the beak. I tell you, it was enough to give me a complex!

I thought it would go in forever, but then I saw them.

Greg:  Saw who?

Duckling:  The swans. They were flying south for the winter, and they looked so regal and elegant. Something inside me moved. I longed to fly up and join them, but I was still unable to fly. I thought my heart would burst. Winter was coming and I had no place to go.

Greg:  So what happened? Winter can be a killer.

Duckling:  You don't have to tell me! I was found by a farmer, but that didn't work out--his children were very nasty. I decided the cold was better and left. I wound up living in a freezing little cave. I tell you, it was enough to drive me mad. In fact, I think it did, because when the spring thaw came I did something terribly daft.

Greg:  What, what?

Duckling:  I saw the swans return to the lake. That was the last straw. I saw their beauty and their regal bearing and I thought that I couldn't go on the way I was. I flung myself at them hoping that they would peck me to bits.

Greg:  Oh dear. Did they?

Duckling:  Did they what?

Greg:  Did they peck you to death?

Duckling:  Of course not. Would I be standing here if they had? By now I was all grown up. So, when they saw me, they told me what a beautiful swan I was. Naturally, I thought they were having me on, but then I saw my reflection in the lake and saw that it was true. I was a beautiful swan. The rest, as they say, is history.

Greg:  Wow, great story. You should write that down and get it published! Thanks for spending some time with us and talking things out. You'll get my bill in the mail.

Duckling:  Don't bother, I've already got one.

Monday Interview Series: The Shoemaker

Today, I'll be talking with someone who has worked hard all his life just to make ends meet. He may not be rich, but he has never turned away anyone in need--even when it meant that he would have to go without. He's here at The Deliverers Publishing Headquarters to spend some time with us. it's the Shoemaker from The Elves and the Shoemaker.

Greg:  Thanks for coming. I know it must be difficult to take time away from your business.

Shoemaker:  Ah business schmizeness. I could take a month off and it wouldn't matter a bit.

Greg:  So, business is bad?

Shoemaker:  Bad. Bad? Business is terrible. I haven't had one customer come in my shop in a week. They all go to the mall. Hey, how do you expect me to compete with Payless? Quality, no one cares about quality anymore. I tell you, it's almost enough to make me give up cobbling altogether.

Greg:  That's too bad. No one comes in to have their shoes repaired or anything?

Shoemaker:  Repaired? Hah! No one bothers. Why fix 'em when you can get new ones for $19.99? I'll tell you something, though. It wasn't always like this. Back in the old days, quality meant something. There was a time when my shoes were famous throughout the kingdom. People were falling over themselves to buy a pair of my shoes. The king himself was a regular customer.

Greg:  Really? What happened?

Shoemaker:  What happened? I'll tell you what happened? They stopped.

Greg:  Yes, I gathered that. Why did they stop?

Shoemaker:  You really want to know? Okay, I'll tell you. But first, some background.

Greg:  I'm familiar with the story.

Shoemaker:  You do? Who told you? But anyway I love to tell this, and since I'm the interviewee, you have to indulge me. Well, it all started a long time ago. Times were bad--almost as bad as they are now. I had given the last pair of shoes in my inventory to a little old lady who had even less than me. She was such a nice old lady and she needed the shoes, but my wife didn't want me to give them to her because we had to pay the rent and get some food.

Anyway, I had just enough leather left for one more pair of shoes, so I laid it out that night so I could get started first thing in the morning. Well, in the morning, there was a pair of the snazziest shoes you ever did see sitting on my workbench. 

I was very puzzled, and my wife started in on me right away. How come you were up working all night, she says. How come you never made such wonderful shoes before, she asks. I told her I wasn't up all night, and I could never hope to make shoes as nice as that, so get off my back already.

Well, just then some rich son of a gun comes in, sees the shoes, and pays a bucketload of money for them. So now I figure our troubles are over. The rent's paid up, I got food in the pantry, and I have enough left to buy some more shoe leather.

Greg:  Yes, they all know. And people from miles around kept coming to buy the wonderful shoes that kept appearing every morning.

Shoemaker:  Say, you do know this story. I was happy to let this go on forever, but my wife was curious. Stay up she says, see who's making the shoes. So I did, and who do you think was making the shoes?

Greg:  Oh I don't know, elves?

Shoemaker:  Bingo! Got it in one! Elves, elves were making the shoes. My wife and I were flabbergasted. We were grateful to the elves. I wanted to get them a card to say thanks, but my wife she says that's not enough. Give them a gift, she says. Like what I ask. Get them some clothes, she says.

So that's what I do. I get them some nice clothes--not cheap, either. Nice material, sturdy yet fashionable. Well, I lay out the clothes and go to bed. The next day the clothes are gone, and so are the elves. Things haven't been the same since.

Greg:  I must say, that's too bad. Really hard luck. Any idea where they've gone?

Shoemaker:  There's a rumor that they went to China. They're making shoes for Payless now. I really don't want to talk about it.

Greg:  It's getting late, so I'll let you get back to the shop. You'll probably be wanting to get to bed.

Shoemaker:  I haven't been able to get a good nights sleep since those elves left. Thanks to them, I've had to start working the night shift at the mall. Payless had an opening for a stock boy. What could I do? I took it.

Monday Interview Series: The Tortoise

I thought that this week I'd slow the pace down a little bit, so I arranged to have my friend the Tortoise stop by for a chat. Now, I had to arrange this a few weeks ago, and he's only just arrived. He's still breathing rather hard, but he says he's ready, so here goes.

Greg:  First of all, I'd like to thank you for coming. I know the Olympics are going on right now, and it must be killing you not to be there.

Tortoise:  Oh not at all, not at all. I've retired, you see. No more racing around for me. It always gave me motion sickness.

Greg:  What sort of advice would you give to our track and field athletes?

Tortoise:  It has always been my experience that slow and steady wins the race. It is always best to put one's head down and dive right in. That applies not only to track and field, I've found. Michael Phelps always dives right in, and look where it got him.

Greg:  Well, that sounds like good advice. Let's talk a little about your race. What stands out about it for you?

Tortoise:  Before the race, I remember that the Hare was talking a lot of trash. He was saying things like he'd run the course three times before I'd even got halfway. I don't like to speak badly of people, but that was uncalled for.

I'm kind of quiet, don't come out of my shell too often. His talk really rubbed me the wrong way. I could have zoomed out of the gate and peaked too early. Luckily I calmed down, and stayed within  myself. Slow and steady, that's the way to win the race.

So the Hare got off to a terrific start. I have to hand it to him, he was brilliant. But I wasn't worried. I'd seen that sort of thing before. I kept plodding along. About a quarter of the way in to the course, I was still feeling good.

Greg:  How far along was the Hare at that point?

Tortoise:  Oh quite a good ways along. He made it about three quarters of the way along the course before overconfidence got the better of him. He decided he was going to take a little snooze. I just kept running along, but it did burn me up when I caught up to him to see him just snoring away, like I wasn't a threat, wasn't even in the race.

Well, i crept by as quietly as I could, then really turned it on. I was cruising along at several yards an hour. I won the race going away. It was a grand thing I can tell you!

Greg:  It serves the Hare right. I guess what comes around goes around. Well, thank you very much for taking a little time to chat with us.

Tortoise:  Not at all. It was very nice chatting with you. We got off rather slowly, but kept at it and it turned out all right. Story of my life, really.