Less Rabbit, More Pooh

Which Hundred Acre Woods character are you?

(From sex to Winnie the Pooh? Seriously?)

The kids and I are reading, for the fiftieth time, or something like that, The House on Pooh Corner. It’s my favorite children’s book of all time. It is one of my favorite pieces of literature of all time. The writing is some of the best you’ll ever find. It inspires me in my own writing to be real and quirky and thoughtful and deep without trying very hard to really be deep at all. And the character study there? Nearly enough to earn you a psychology degree.

There’s gloomy, poor-me Eeyore (the name alone is genius); unruly Tigger; wise and revered Owl; nurturing, common-sense Kanga; wide-eyed Roo who hates being too young to miss out on things; timid, insecure Piglet; and Pooh himself, A Bear of No Brain At All who humbly ponders life in the most simplistic and profound of ways. Christopher Robin, creator of this world, walks among them all, reminding me a little of God in the Garden of Eden.

And then there’s Rabbit: “It was going to be one of Rabbit’s busy days. As soon as he woke up he felt important, as if everything depended upon him. It was just the day for Organizing Something, or for Writing a Notice Signed Rabbit, or for Seeing What Everybody Else Thought About It. It was the perfect morning for hurrying round.”

There's more:

“ ‘After all,’ said Rabbit to himself, ‘Christopher Robin depends on Me. He’s fond of Pooh and Piglet and Eeyore, and so am I, but they haven’t any Brain. And he respects Owl, because you can’t help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn’t spell it right; but spelling isn’t everything. And Kanga is too busy looking after Roo, and Roo is too young and Tigger is too bouncy to be any help, so there’s really nobody but Me, when you come to look at it.’ ”

I’m afraid I’m Rabbit. Bother! In fact, sometimes when Milne’s writing about Rabbit, it’s like he plucked The Thoughts Right Out Of My Brain. I wouldn’t come right out and say the things Rabbit says, but deep down, those kinds of thoughts are there. Maybe there’s a little Rabbit in all of us.

So when I read Pooh Corner to my kids, playing up all the voices and reading the very long sentences without taking a breath and emphasizing certain parts to be sure that they catch the subtle yet brilliant humor, I’m also thinking to myself, “God, as much as I love Rabbit, I don’t want to be like him. I wanna be more like Pooh.”

“And while he waited for Piglet not to answer, he jumped up and down to keep warm, and a hum came suddenly into his head, which seemed to him a Good Hum, such as is Hummed Hopefully to Others.”

That’s Pooh—one who hums hopefully to others. That’s who I want to be.