age of not believing

Last night I was reading a story by Roald Dahl, one of my all time favorite authors. It was called "The Hitchhiker", one of his short stories, found in "The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (and six more)". The story is about a man who is driving to London and stops to pick up a hitchhiker. After a conversation, the man realizes that the hitchhiker is being very cryptic about his line of work. Finally, it is revealed that the hitchhiker is a professional pickpocket (or as he calls it "fingersmith"). During the car ride, the pickpocket had stolen several things from the driver including one of his shoelaces.

It is a very simple and well written story, but I found myself trying to figure out how the pickpocket did it. I was envisioning the car, and the two men, and just how he might have feasibly reached down unnoticed and swiped the driver's shoelace.

If I were a young person, I would have accepted it as a cool and fantastical occurrence in a story. As an adult, I was trying to break it down and figure it out. Maybe somethings aren't meant to be figured out. Maybe we just need to let our imaginations go and take pleasure in small little fantastical things like fictional pickpockets stealing shoelaces...

Now that I have the opportunity to work a lot with kids, I've realized that when you grow up the world isn't as fun and magical as it was when you were a kid. I admire the imaginations of little ones and how they don't judge the world or get disillusioned by it. They dream big, nothing is impossible, and anything can be made fun. Why do adults always have to bring the world crashing down? Sometimes I wish I were back at the age of believing, the place in life where armchairs are turned into chariots and stuffed animals come alive to have tea parties. The place where unicorns pull cars to make them move, not engines. The place where magical bubble baths turn chores like washing dishes into fun. The place where books can be read over and over and over again and even though Amelia Bedelia will always screw something up, you're just as thrilled at the end when she bakes some thing delicious and turns everything around. The world is a sad, scary, depressing place when you're a disillusioned adult. We often forget the things that make this life beautiful like imagination, creativity, and just a little bit of silliness.