I think I can--I think I can--I think I can

We've been pulling out children's books to read to Punch when she visits, so there are stacks of them on our nightstand, along with our own more serious or frivolous reading [H.'s The Best and The Brightest, my Bon Appetit]. Today I came across The Little Engine That Could, by Watty Piper, originally published in 1930. [It's inscribed from L. to Punch, but somehow we never sent it home with her.]

First of all--Watty Piper? How do you get a name like that? It just sounds so made up. And it turns out it may have been. I found research by Roy E. Plotnick from the University of Illinois at Chicago who addresses the controversy over who wrote the classic book, and also reports:

"Since I made this page available, the most frequent question I have received is whether the little engine was male or female. Many seem to remember the engine as male in the Watty Piper version and are surprised to discover it is female. For example, Prof. Laura Moore teaches a class on gender, where they analyze children's books. She wrote in 2000 that "of the 400+ students I have asked, less than a dozen remember the engine as female."

I didn't know the engine was female either. But now I like to think that if she could, so can I. What does that happy little train have that I haven't got?

How I live by the famous "I think I can" motto:

1. I've gone to boot camp three mornings a week for a year. In winter, it's in a church gym; in spring/summer/fall, it's out in Brookdale Park. It kills me. I dread it before I get in the car to go. It's really, really hard. [Have I complained enough yet? I don't think so.] I work out with lovely young women who sprint like the dickens while I drag behind. Sometimes my belly bulges out over my pants. My arms hurt when we do shoulder presses. The push-ups are hard, the ab crunches and pulsing squats are painful. But I have managed to lose 10 pounds over the last year; I am proud. As I learned at Weight Watchers meetings in the past, that is 10 pounds of butter--40 sticks of Land O' Lakes. That's a lotta butta. My skirts fit better and so do my belts.

2. I walk the dog. Again, I sometimes don't want to. I get tired or lazy, or like I just want to curl up and read rather than scale a hill with a tiny pal. But it's good for Sug and it's good for me, so together we face the inclines and the ice patches. For her, a garbage pan in our path or a tree swaying at night is a very scary thing, and she'll start barking from deep in her gut, or trembling. As though anything or anyone would be afraid of a 10-pound fluffball. Still, at least I know I am braver than someone or something.

3. I write in this blog, and bare my soul. Every day so far. I write and I love it and it makes me feel competent and smart and like I am polishing and using my craft. I admire honest writing, writing that transports you to where the person is, and I try to write that way. I also write for magazines, and for websites, and again love the art of crafting a turn of the sentence, of finding the perfect quote from a source--a quote that will capture a bit of who the person is and what he or she stands for.

4. I show up. I remember a quote that said, "Friends need your presence more than your presents." I show up for my Dad, for unexpected doctor visits, toilet paper deliveries and ointment application [don't ask] when I would rather do my work or organize my life. I show up for Punch and her Mom, because I love them and want them to be happy. I show up with birthday cakes that take me all day or all night to make [most recently from Baked, that great cookbook from the bakery in Red Hook, Brooklyn, that I am dying to visit]. I show up for Figgy and her friends, driving them all over and getting them the Jax and Fudgsicles they want and the carrots, cucumbers, peppers and apples I want them to have. I show up for my friends and my sister, but not as often, I fear, as they have shown up for me, in very small and very big ways. But I think I can--I think I can--I think I can--make a difference and continue to be a source of joy and assurance in their lives. I show up for H., again and again, with both of us working hard on our marriage.

5. I've made some food changes that have taken a long time but I hope will be with me for a long time. I no longer buy junk food like Oreos or even Cheez-Its because while I think I am buying them for myself and the other members of my household, it is I who will be unable to control myself, not them. They will be lucky if they get one little perfectly square, salty, Cheddary Cheez-It. I no longer get sugary drinks at Starbucks, or ones with thick caps of cream, except as an occasional treat. I now order iced coffee, and I look forward to it. I stare at the treats in the bakery case at SB and think they don't look so great anymore. I buy whole-grain bread, not white, and whenever possible, whole-wheat pasta too.

I think I can--I think I can--I think I can continue to change my life for the better and to celebrate what is already good about it.

Again, what does that happy little train have that I haven't got? We both have miles to go, a great distance to cover and very important deliveries to make.