Bloggin' Umholtz

Ribbit!

         Yesterday, the little girl next door attempted to turn me into a frog. Nothing happened. She had the requisite magic wand and she waved it in what I’m sure was the appropriate magical manner, but nothing happened. I suggested that perhaps she needed some magic words, such as hocus-pocus, to help things along. My ever keen and observant son pointed out that it would probably only work if she was changing a higher life form into a lower one.

         Hah-hah. Good kid, that boy of mine.

         In the end it was decided that something must be wrong with the magic wand. It is always important to have the right tool for any job and a wand is no exception. They come in many shapes and sizes and have been used for good and evil purposes down through the millennia. I suppose there are training wands, you know, for apprentice sorcerers…or sorcerer’s apprentices, as the case may be. In the case of the little girl next door, perhaps it’s an apprentice fairy godmother or maybe she’ll grow up to be an evil sorceress. No, not much chance of that. She’s too cute and she doesn’t even have a wart on her nose.

         Every magician starts out with a wand. I did. I remember it well. I was about ten and I was in my backyard playing King Arthur. Of course I was Merlin. My wand was an apple switch that I cut with my Cub Scout knife from a tree in the backyard. It worked magnificently. I was all-powerful, which is quite a heady experience for a lad of ten. When I was done hurling incantations there wasn’t a dragon to be found for miles.

         Of course, dressed as I was, in torn corduroy pants, converse sneakers and a plaid shirt, the apple switch made the perfect fashion accessory. I would not have cut the same dashing figure of a magician if I had been standing there holding the pink glittery wand with the star on top that my next door neighbor was using. Dragons would snicker at such a sight and soon leave said magician nothing more than a non descript pile of charcoal...with a glittery silver star resting on top.

         There are times, I suppose when it is beneficial not to advertise your prowess with the magical arts. Take Hagrid of Harry Potter fame, his magic wand is conveniently disguised as a small pink umbrella. Nice touch that, particularly useful if you’re not suppose to be doing magic in the first place.

         Gandalf had a wand. Merlin, Mickey (well he borrowed one, anyway), Harry Potter & clan, they all had wands. Countless other magicians, wizards, sorcerers, sorceresses, mages, fairy godmothers, witches etc., when asked, will also confess to owning such a device. Each one unique, each one as individual as the owners. Even Luke Skywalker had a wand. After all, what is the force, if not magic and what is a light saber, if not a wand?

         And remember the magic shop in Harry Potter? The rows upon rows of magic wands, each one waiting for its particular owner, each one different, yet all the same.

         Having the proper wand in the proper hands is without a doubt one of the most important aspects of magic. The wand is definitely an indication of the magnifance of the wizard. Which is why I am so greatly puzzled at the moment.

         For you see, I’m standing in our bathroom, holding something in my hand called a toilet wand.

         Oh, how the mighty have fallen.