RIP Maurice Sendak

American writer and illustrator Maurice Sendak died today. Sad. I mean, yes he was 83 and all. But when I think of how profound Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are was to a generation of children, how iconic were the illustrations he created with his own imagination, I'm saddened that he is gone.

But the awesome thing about writers and artists? Even after we die, our words and our art carry on forever.

I didn't have to the heart to break it to Sol this morning, before he left for school testing. You have to understand, he has this special love for Maurice Sendak's story about the boy Max and his fantasy world of wild creatures.

This book is the one Sol treasures the most, and he keeps it protected high on his bookshelf.

Instead, I thought I would share a post I originally wrote back in October of 2009, when we saw the Where the Wild Things Are movie by Spike Jonze.

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Where My Wild Things Are

I must confess. I don't remember Where the Wild Things Are, at all. I should say its the actual story, the words that I don't remember. I totally and completely remember the illustrations in the book. As a library loving book nerd, I would sit and flip through the pages over and over. It might be that I had this book before I could read. Nevertheless, it had a visual impact on me over the years.

When I heard about the movie, I was excited to see it. I knew that the "Max's" of my family would enjoy it, too. So off we went to the drive-in, where every family with more than three children watch movies.

It was a perfect, fall, Sunday night. The drive-in was pretty empty, the chil'rens had their snacks, everyone was bundled in their blankets. Everything was good. It's hard for me to concentrate while at the drive-in, but when this movie began...I can't explain it, it just captured me from the moment it began. The story, the images, the soundtrack, I loved it.

It was almost magical.

I watched the wonder on my kid's faces. It was a mixture of horror, worry, humor, interest, awe. My two "Max's", Diego and Solomon, couldn't take their eyes off the screen, they were so enthralled by the story. I also suspected that their Daddy had a little bit of "Max" in him, too.

I have to say, it really captured my heart. Unbeknownst to me, it captured my son's heart as well. When it ended, Sol came over to me quietly, put his head against my chest and he just started sobbing. It touched him so deeply. Then, of course he made me cry! He laid there for a long time, crying.

What is it, Sol? Why are crying? I asked him.

Its just so sad. He said.

How do mean? I wondered.

Because he had to leave the Wild Things. That makes me sad. But then he left his family, his mom. That makes me sad, too. Then he started crying again.

Aaahhh, to have children who are so emotional, who feel things so deeply. Solomon went on to explain how much he would have liked to have been Max...to play with the Wild Things, to build those cool forts. But to be with the Wild Things meant he had to be away from his family. And that made him sad.

It was so sweet. What was even sweeter was how his brothers and sisters rallied around him, hugging him, patting him on the back, trying to make him feel better.

And that, I guess, is the struggle. To live out the wild rumpus that goes on in their mind...yet to be in the present, with their family who loves them. Yes, that is a struggle indeed.