Michael (Daddy) and Ceridwyn (Daughter) Quaintance – A new companion

Ms. Washington,

In the old days a man’s car was his castle, folks entered as guests, and honored guests sat up front…with explicit instructions not to touch the radio or slam the door….lest you find yourself standing on the roadside waiting for the bus, while wondering if you had enough change to get a transfer. To this day the memory of my grandfather’s slopped back Buick still sits high in my memory, that and the clear understanding that I held a close second in his affections (the car being first and my grandmother a fluctuating third and fourth depending on her mood and whether or not he’d done something wrong in her eyes, that made going home a trial and a tribulation). So it’s no wonder (upon reaching my adulthood) that I should embrace the same time honored tradition and expect that same unquestioning respect when I got my own car…with the hidden duplicate key…and the ear splitting alarm meant to render
any interloper limp and incapacitated.

Yet in this time of change and cultural metamorphosis (when the belt is placed in a crystal box and rendered a museum exhibit) such alas is not the case. I am ruled by the whim of the Princess who would be Queen—a slave to the cultural imperatives of the seven year old mind—forced to endure the mind numbing effects of Radio Disney, lest I want to feel of full weight of that little pout……capable of piercing my anger act and my daddy voice; I am a Driver…..nothing more.

But now there is hope…..not since Lemony Snicket has there been such hope, a place where the planets align and then and now reach an accord….now “A Little Shiver” renders its/your stories from the CD player and daddy and Ceridwyn share wonder. My daughter is a student at Baker Demonstration School in Wilmette, a woman of quixotic moods and deeply rooted thoughts she is often captivated, but rarely stilled; your stories have had that effect on her……and on me. Thank you for rendering stories that are rich in culture and reminiscent of a time when stories and sweet lies (told my elders) filled and warmed a household, gathering generations and easing the fears brought on by the rent—grocery bill—electricity bill—and the “ I ain’t got enough money for you to be wastin’ no food” ghosts.


Michael (Daddy) and Ceridwyn (Daughter) Quaintance