Snippets - Shel Silverstein

My younger brother loved Shel Silverstein. He wasn’t a poetry loving kid, or a book reading one, though I suspect he might have enjoyed graphic novels if they existed back then. His favorite Shel poem, or at least the one I most connect him with was Hector the Collector from the classic collection, Where the Sidewalk Ends. Did any kid growing up in the 80s not have this book?

Hector the Collector
Collected bits of string,
Collected dolls with broken heads
And rusty bells that would not ring. Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Twists of wires, worn-out tires,
Paper bags and broken bricks…

My brother was definitely a Hector.

Just look at his impish face AND that t-shirt! circa 1986.

This was a kid who literally saved his fingernail clippings in a mug on the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet, which sat there for years, decades? Until someone was brave enough to throw it out. On the same shelf he placed an egg in a cup, an experiment that as far as I know he forgot about, and left there for just as long. When I finally took a closer look years later, the egg had emptied (mysteriously?!) and fused to the bottom of the cup.

I will not describe the fingernails.

In my late twenties while temping at HarperCollins, I had shelves of classic children’s books. When my boss said I could take some home, I did not hesitate (nor did I ask how many “some” was). Living with me still is the box set of Shel, the entire Little House on the Prairie series, and all of Beverly Clearly canon, including every Ramona Quimby novel. How could I not?

Early on I dug into Shel’s collections, feeling nostalgic for my childhood, and he did not disappoint. I reread all my old favorites and discovered some new ones.

The man was prolific. He not only wrote poems and books, but he also was a songwriter, penning “A Boy Named Sue” for Johnny Cash, and producing more than a dozen albums of his own.

Not everyone agreed his poems were “appropriate” for children and he definitely pushed the boundaries of what the general consensus at the time thought kids should read. But this is 100% why so many kids loved him. He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t care. I found one of those on-the-fence poems recently, Thumbsucker, and I have to say, I am a fan.

Thumbsucker

I met her on a corner in Duluth
(That’s the truth.)
She was tryin’ to fix her shoe in a telephone booth
(Her name was Ruth.)
She said she was just waiting for a bus
But I hid my thumb cause I knew just what she was,
And I ain’t gonna let no thumbsucker such my thumb.
It’ll drive you crazy and leave you deaf and dumb.
It’ll make you crawl and climb the wall
Leave you without no thumb at all.
So I ain’t gonna let no thumbsucker suck my thumb.

I’ll tell you what them thumbsuckers like to do.
They suck your thumb till it’s wrinkled like a prune
They’ll say you’ve got the sweetest thumb of all
But then they suck the thumb of the guy livin’ down the hall
That’s why I ain’t gonna let no thumbsucker suck my thumb


(etc. . . etc. . . until finally giving in.)

You can see here why not all adults were fans of Shel, it reads weirdly… pervy, but also not, because kids do suck their thumbs. So, in the end, it’s the reader’s interpretation, which is sneaky and genius of Shel. Because he can claim innocence while the ones decrying the indecency are the indecent ones.

Which may mean…I’m the perv.

Either way, poor Ruth! I do hope she finds someone else’s thumb to suck.