For fellow make-believers extraordinaire: Susan and Beth

First of all, let me set the record straight: the sanctuary of make-believe is not an exclusive one. Children of all ages, sizes and shapes may enter. This is great news for a 61 year-old child who has a life-time membership to this sanctuary. Great news, indeed.

From my earliest memories, I was a make-believer. Give me a Barbie, a stuffed animal–heck, give me a stick or rock–and I will find its story. My sisters and I propped up an old wooden crate by the fence at the side of our yard, attached a piece of rope for reins, and christened it Jumbo, the elephant. We had just seen The Greatest Show on Earth,  and my dad had graciously gifted us with an old pigeon crate. For days, we our rode that thing until we moved on to a new story. Imagine the looks of college students passing by on their way to class as three girls frantically whipped the side of the crate with sticks, yelling, Go Jumbo, Go!

In high school, I carried the sanctuary of make-believe with me, initiating willing friends (you know who you are). We dared each other to take our world into the real world. Having located several yards with an abundance of lawn ornaments, we sent willing make-believers–one at a time, mind you–into these yards to talk to and to pet plaster deer, burros, and dogs. Waiting in the get-away car, we howled as motorists and neighbors looked on, some in confusion and others in delight. The night we found a yard with Snow White and all of the Seven Dwarfs? The gates to the sanctuary of make-believe opened with fireworks and trumpet fanfare!

The sanctuary of make-believe can be a solitary venture, but I’m hear to confess that it is best when shared. My make-believe venture into the world of Olympic curling has been shared, and re-shared with students, family, friends, and colleagues. In short, this story has legs! Just when it appears to be waning, a fellow make-believer will shock it into life again, propelling it to the foreground.

Just this morning when I was sweeping my kitchen (wait for the irony of this action), I heard my phone ping and saw that I had been tagged in a Facebook post. I dumped my dustpan in the garbage and went to check this out. When I read the post, I realized that I had hit paydirt: my curling story, once only a solitary figment of my imagination, had gone viral! Well, maybe not viral–exaggeration is actually permissible and encouraged in the sanctuary of make-believe–but it made the internet. For proof of this, check out the following link (if you, too, are willing to enter this make-believe sanctuary):

http://ecjanzen7.wixsite.com/mysite/single-post/2016/09/02/From-Teaching-to-The-Olympics

The fellow make-believers who shocked this story into life again had also sent me a letter last spring, weeks before I retired, delivered by the high school principal himself. In this letter, with an official-looking American Curling Federation logo, I learned that I finally had been accepted to the Olympic Curling Team and would be preparing for the 2018 Seoul Olympics. As I read the letter aloud to my students, most looked on with mild amusement. If I had had time to train them better, I could have worked them into genuine amusement, maybe even outright laughter. But alas, I retired.

Because my friends had breathed new life into the curling story, I rushed to Walmart to buy a t-shirt, stencils and puff paint. That evening, I recreated the logo from my curling letter, and made myself an official-looking training shirt. The next day, I wore it to school. When I made my way to the classrooms of my fellow make-believers, I was stopped by others who asked about my shirt. Oh this? I said. This is proof that I am officially training for the Seoul Olympics as a U.S. Curler. It’s legit. They’re calling me up.

And when I finally approached my fellow make-believers? They gasped, they oohed and aahed, they offered congratulations for a life-long dream now realized. They offered support, insisted that I would have a large home fan-base, and pledged to pass on the great news. They played along. And in the sanctuary of make-believe, it just does not get much better than this.

So here’s to the sanctuary of make-believe! May it live long, and its players live well! For those who are willing to enter, it offers treasures of inestimable worth and cheap, but wholesome, entertainment.

Looking ahead, I’m hoping for a significant fan-base as I prepare for my Olympic debut. If you can help me out, my curling trainers and I would really appreciate it.

Oh, and I’m looking for some gently-used teflon-soled curling shoes. If any of you happen to have a pair that you’re no longer using, message me: I will pay top dollar.