Many thanks again to KARE11’s Boyd Huppert and Chad Nelson for their outstanding production called Greenie and Holly. It premiered in 2020 and will repeat tonight on the 10 o’clock news with an update. Of course I’m biased, but the National Edward R. Murrow Journalism Award proves how special it is!
For those of you wondering why Greenie’s book is called Greenie and The Girl instead of Greenie and the old lady, here’s the introduction and a new video.
Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved water. Especially lakes. Even before she could swim, she would stand on a dock and gaze down at the mystery, until one day her curiosity pulled her a little too close and she fell in. She didn’t know enough to be afraid and was mesmerized by the beautiful golden shafts of sunlight streaming down through the pale green water. It was only for a moment, but she knew she wanted to go to that other world again. Her father pulled her out, and decided it was time to teach her to swim safely, always landing back on shore. That made her love water even more. People, even her mother, sometimes called her a fish or a mermaid. She had long hair, but only wished for a mermaid’s tail and to be able to breathe under water. She loved to sing, but she loved quiet, too. That helped her hear the animals and made them more comfortable coming around her.
When she was growing up, most people thought animals acted only on instinct, and that only humans had things like language, tools, art, and emotions. She always asked, “How do we know?” The Girl grew up to be a camp counselor, teacher, librarian, and writer, and always loved sharing stories of animals. She worked hard and saved her money. With a little help and luck, she made her dream come true. Can you guess what it was?
She had loved living by the Mississippi River, then the Minnesota River, but her dream was to live in a little house in a little forest on a little lake. When she found the perfect spot, she waited until the little old man was ready to sell his little old house. He knew she would love it and care for it, so they both cried happy tears. Owning a house in the woods meant a lot of work, which often made her dirty and sweaty, but also strong. Jumping into the spring-fed lake made her clean, cool, and happy.
As years went by, the gold in her hair turned to silver, but she kept it long and natural for simplicity and frugality. Wrinkles appeared, but they were mostly smile lines, so she didn’t care. As she grew into an elder, other things changed in her body and mind, but she still swam nearly every summer day and walked in the woods nearly every winter day, keeping her heart young. As always, Mother Nature reminded her that change was the way of all things, but if she kept her sense of wonder, she could always be The Girl.
Once upon a time a little green sunfish hatched from a little egg in a little nest in a little lake – the same little lake The Girl swam in. He was just one of thousands of eggs, but there was something very special about him. First, he had to be special just to make it out of the nest. There are many hungry critters in a lake, and eggs are delicious. If you were a fish egg, other fish, turtles, and even dragonfly nymphs might snatch you up for lunch. Even though his father guarded the nest and all his brothers and sisters, many of them disappeared before he got to know them. The little green sunfish and his friends were lucky to have logs and rocks and lots of plants to hide in. But it was a small lake, and everybody knew that there would not be enough room or food for all of them, so some of the eggs were meant to be food for other critters. You had to have some luck to survive.
As the little green sunfish grew, he got bigger and smarter – but so did the predators. Being a cold-blooded animal, (yes, he was cold-blooded, but warm hearted!) he loved to swim in the shallow water, where the nests were, warmed by the sun. But there were herons and egrets there, standing so still you wouldn’t notice them until – they struck with those long, powerful beaks and swallowed you whole.
Like all fish, the little green sunfish knew he belonged in the water, but his superpower polarized vision helped him to see above the surface, and he was fascinated. One day he saw an older fish jumping out of the water and coming back with a tasty mosquito. It took some practice and strengthening his tail to get his head above the surface, but he did, and discovered a whole new world up there. It was only for a moment, but he knew he wanted to go there again. His father decided it was time to teach him to jump safely, always landing back in the water. That made him love jumping even more, especially when thousands of mayflies hatched. Yum!
He loved exploring the beautiful little lake, racing through the water lilies and playing with his friends. As he grew, he learned to use his speed to avoid snapping turtles and his stealth to sneak up on dragonfly larva and eat them before they ate his tiny brothers and sisters. That wasn’t hard. But the occasional scary otters or minks had super stealth and speed and big teeth. Escaping them took all his smarts and skill!
After a few years of playing, growing, and learning, it was time for the little green sunfish to make his own nest and start a family. He used his mouth to pull weeds and his fins to sweep away the mud and silt, leaving a lovely dish of sand, pebbles, and shells. Surely that would help him attract a mate who would be happy to lay her eggs for him to fertilize and guard. When it was cleaned and ready, the sunfish went out to search the lake for a suitable mate. Perhaps it was his confident approach, or his healthy blue, orange, and gold glow, or maybe a meeting of the eyes? She followed him back to the shallows, where the two fish danced in a circle above the nest until it was full of thousands of tiny eggs.
And this is where our story of an extraordinary friendship begins. The Girl knew it was special, so she wrote about it in her journal. The sunfish knew it was special, so he told his friends and children about it. I’ll let them tell you now.
