To the untrained eye, a pingpong ball is just a pingpong ball. To a Beverly Cleary fan, it's two motorcycle helmets for mice.
Ever since I read Cleary's series about Ralph, the motorcycle-riding mouse, I've never looked at a pingpong ball—or the world—the same way. It's amazing to think that it's been more than forty years since I checked out The Mouse and the Motorcycle from my school library in Northport, and yet that one particular image is as clear to me as ever.
And why shouldn't it be? It's perfect.
How I wanted a mouse of my own to ride a toy motorcycle around my house! Thanks to Cleary's genius, a talking mouse friend seemed indeed possible.
While much of children's literature tried to explain the world from the point of view of a wise and gentle adult, Cleary created characters who saw the world as only children can. With great interest, I read every book that bore Beverly Cleary's name. She seemed like a friend who understood me in ways I didn't yet understand myself.
I've written eight children's books and have always kept Beverly's sense of wonder in mind. I don't remember at exactly what age I decided I wanted to write books, but I know that by second or third grade, my teacher arranged a writing project that allowed us to focus on whatever we wanted. My best friend picked dolphins; I chose children's authors, with a large amount of my project being about who else? Beverly Cleary!
I told that story recently to a school group. One of the students said, "That's fantastic! You did your project on children's authors and then you became one!"
"Yes," I said. "And my best friend who did her project on dolphins—became a dolphin!"
"Really?" the students said together in astonishment.
And that perfectly sums up why I love writing for children: the belief that fantastic, magical things can happen. Best friends can become dolphins; mice can ride toy motorcycles and become our friends.
That's what Beverly Cleary taught me. In the hands of a gifted storyteller, anything is possible... and so funny.
