I will always remember my seventh birthday, because that's when my parents took my older sister and I to see The Wiz.

If I have an absurd love of musicals, it probably started with the modernized, urbanized tale of of a young woman named Dorothy, and her adventure as she struggled to find the true meaning of home.  As young girls, we were meant to empathize with the journey of Dorothy, as she tried to make it home, and helped others find what they already had (the Scarecrow had always been intelligent, the Tin Man indeed had feelings, and the Lion's courage surfaced when it needed to), even if they didn't realize it.  We understood Dorothy (even if she was a kindergarten teacher instead of a teenager, a concession made due to the casting of then 33-year old Diana Ross in the lead role) and certainly empathized with her quest, although we would not have to deal with career trajectory issues for another dozen years or so.  When I started watching the movie again with my own children some years ago, I began to notice themes, bits of dialogue and song lyrics I hadn't noticed before.

The many references to our urban reality, although handled with humor, pointed to the very real situations we faced on a daily basis.  The munchkins turned into permanent graffiti for painting on the walls of a park, showed children paying the ultimate price for what came to be called tagging, although back in the late 70's, they really were trying to make art, not just marking gang territory.  The Tin Man who hid his feelings behind jokes could be any of us who hide our true feelings in order to survive in our day to day lives.  Feelings are thought to be your enemy, and a sign of weakness, so we stifle them by whatever means necessary, in his case with humor, but occasionally with food, alcohol or worse.  The Lion's loud display of bravado, to cover up the fact that he felt he had no courage, was easily echoed in the legions of young men and women who resorted to violence and crime, based on a false, but popular, vision of what they thought courage looked like.

One of my favorite set pieces, and one of the funniest, was the Scarecrow and the Crows.  Here we have a young crow whose job is to scare the birds of prey away from the crops and seedlings.  When not doing this, which is most of the time as he is rather harmless looking, he entertains and educates himself by reading the bits of paper used to provide his stuffing.  He also yearns for a chance to come down from his perch and take a walk in his garden.  The crows like him where he is, of course, helpless and unable to stop them from stealing food from the garden.  To this end, not only do they refuse to help him off the pole, they unintentionally conspire to keep him from learning anything that would help the Scarecrow to help himself.  The Crows figure that by having The Scarecrow repeat their defeatist, cynical mantra (set to a good, dance-able beat, and sung well by a young Michael Jackson), they might maintain control over both him and their advantageous situation.  This was not new.

As far back as the 1950's, a crab barrel mentality, in which crabs try to keep each other from climbing out of the barrel by pulling them back in, has existed in the darker corners of urban centers.  Ostracism awaited anyone who dared display that they were academically talented, and/or wanted to rise above their circumstances.  Especially in lower socio-economic areas, reading was considered uppity, and the reader was thought to be either trying to be better than everyone else, or wasting their time, since they were unlikely to get a much better job than menial work, based on where their current place in life was. There was, some people believed, no escape from the life your parents led, so why even try?  The message of the Crows, then, was this:  Since the Game of Life is rigged to favor those that were already going to win, don't bother playing.  You will lose anyway, and feel worse for having tried.

What was true in the late 1970s is still true today.  Rampant anti-intellectualism (say that five times fast!) permeates urban culture.  Anyone that strays away from the accepted messages of hedonism (the search for pleasure above all things) and conspicuous consumption (you are what you buy) is regarded with a great deal suspicion and heaping doses of scorn.  Popular media feeds us a steady diet of images and music that tell us that we should aspire to look successful on the outside, never mind any education, as we are not expected to accomplish much else.  The messages are all wrapped up in pretty packaging as well.  Hmm.  Hedonism, materialism and negativity all set to a nice beat, with glamorous images.  Sound familiar?

Of course the movie goes on to a happy resolution, everyone finds what they are looking for, and Dorothy finds out the true meaning of home before being transported back to her New York City neighborhood.  But I've always found it interesting the things you realize when you first start hearing the words to the music you loved as a child, as an adult.  I never noticed that the lyrics to the song "Greased Lightning", from one of my other favorite musicals, Grease, were so dirty until I watched the original version of the movie sometime in my early 30's, after only watching the edited version on broadcast television for many years.  But aside from that, I am glad that the ultimate message of the crows, that of giving up in the face of obstacles, was defeated by the Scarecrow himself, with the aid of Dorothy and her dog in the movie.  He proved that no one has to let the  negativity that surrounds them on a daily basis define them, or decide their path.  He sang it actually.  To a nice, dance-able beat.

I still enjoy this movie.  Granted, I now understand both the lyrics and the underlying messages, a perspective that being 35 years removed from the first time I saw it as a child has provided.  The positive themes of family and self-determination presented in the film (Dorothy was afraid to make any real decisions, or leave the comfort zone of her aunt's home, until she was thrust into Oz), are what I believe the filmmakers really wanted the viewing audience to focus on.  Yes, the other, more negative connotations are there, and while it is good to be aware of them (mindless viewing of ANYTHING is always a bad idea), I believe that the larger point is that we determine our own fate, either by our actions, or lack thereof.  Sometimes despite where we started.

And like all journeys, it's always better when we make the trip with friends.  And music.

When I was younger, I was a huge reader.

As I got older and more "busy", I ended up reading less and less.  But every once in a while a novel would capture my interest, especially if I heard or read that a movie was being made from it.  I would always rush to try and read the novel before the movie was released. Or conversely, I would watch a movie, then when I found out it was based on a book, I would find and read the book to compare it to the movie.  And without exception, I have found that the book was always better than the movie.

To me, books give you more insight into characters lives and motivations.  You get a much richer background, and get to create your own visions of who and what the characters are.  You can open a book, and let your imagination take you wherever it may.  I remember lolling away many hours, lost in another time and place, completely shutting out the world around me.  It was comforting to be able to get away from my drab, day to day reality, and escape into someone else's life. 

I am always initially excited about a books translation into a movie or TV show.  I am interested to see how the various cast and crew translate the written words into concrete visions, both for those who have read the books, and for those who are viewing the program for the first time, and likely have no knowledge of the book.  As much as I love a good literary experience, I also enjoy a well crafted movie or TV show.  A well written movie draws you in, and keeps your attention until the very end.  A well written TV program keeps you coming back week after week, never boring you, and always telling you something new about the characters.  Theoretically at least, if you have good source material, you will likely have a good end product.

Or not.

I understand the television and movies are limited mediums.  You only get 45-60 minutes  for television, and a minimum of an hour and a half for movies to tell your story.  There is often so much ground to cover, that there is no hope of cramming all of the information, characters and motivations in the book into such a small times frame.  So the movie and television industries do the best they can, and hopefully, the fans of the book (or books) are satisfied.  My experience has been about 50/50.  Half of the adopted books have been wonderful, faithful adaptions that enhanced my view of the printed material.  The other half left me wondering if we had we read the same book.  But I do applaud the time screenwriters take to read an entire book, often more than once, and try to adapt it as faithfully as possible to the screen so that those who are not avid readers might get to enjoy a story they might not otherwise have known about.  Who knows?  The movie might actually get them to the book.

I am trying this approach with my daughter.  When my son was younger, he and I used to love the British cartoon series Redwall that played on PBS on Sunday mornings.  I found out later that it originated from a book by Brian Jacques.  I always told myself that at some point I was going to get the book for my son.  While my son did eventually get into reading lots of fantasy and science fiction, Redwall slipped off both of our radars for quite some time.  Fast forward to about a month ago when I was perusing a used book store that popped up not too far from us.  Sitting right next to each other on a shelf were the first six books in the Southern Vampire Mysteries (upon which the True Blood TV series is based) and Redwall.  I scooped them up immediately, and while my son was definitely interested in the vampire books, he figured my daughter might be more into Redwall.  When she came home from camp, I introduced her to Redwall, reading the first chapter with her.  She seemed to be okay with it (the chapters are pretty short), but what really piqued her interest was my son finding Redwall on Netflix, and allowing her to watch the first few episodes.  Now she is more interested in finishing the book.

Not a perfect way to get your child into reading for pleasure, but it's a start.