Happy Birthday, Mr. Holmes

About a year ago, I was lucky enough to make the pilgrimage some Sherlock Holmes fans are lucky enough to make. With the aid of my friend in Amsterdam, we traveled to see Holmes' famous stomping grounds, in the city of London.

London, even in the beginning of January, was thrumming with life. One thing photographs cannot capture is how foggy the city can get, how dark and atmospheric it can feel. So it fit my favorite fictional character, Sherlock Holmes. The city lived up to every myth and legend. I could imagine thousands of different lives being lived out, all in one city.

Of course Sherlock Holmes was never a real person. Nor was the address 221 B Baker Street. (Until the Sherlock Holmes society resurrected a fictionalized museum-home for the great detective in the early nineties.) Despite Holmes never having been in London, his presence is felt more than ever. The Baker Street tube stop bears his image; there are signs, books, and statues in his honor. 

In the 221 B Baker Street museum, you can find an entryway with coats hanging on hooks; one for Watson, one for Holmes. In the main guest parlor, a brass oil lamp burns. On a desk are correspondences addressed to Holmes. A foot stool holds his violin, which rests atop a messy array of sheet music.

The museum was gorgeous, if not a touch eerie. It felt like you walked into someone's home when they were gone. It felt almost personal to poke around at the objects, or to put on Holmes' deerstalker. 

It felt like he'd be walking through the door any moment, bandit at his heels. 

Despite the surreal experience of knowing what I was seeing wasn't a real person's home, it did make me think about the character of Holmes, himself. In the line waiting to see the museum, I was surrounded by people from all over the world: China, France, all stretches of Europe. Holmes' character has reached far beyond London, and has taken on a worldly incarnations. 

I always wonder what draws people to the character of Sherlock Holmes. All I can say is I remember what drew me in. It was a few lines from the original stories.

Watson is hurt, and Holmes addresses him, asking, "You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!"

Watson is shocked that Holmes is concerned about him, as it goes against his usual, cold manner. 

In a revelation to his character, he discovers that Holmes was more human, more suspect to the emotions we all feel than he let on. Watson thinks, "It was worth a wound -- it was worth many wounds -- to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask."

In going to London, I got a glimpse behind that mask. Special thanks to my friend for taking the journey with me, knowing tube stops like the back of her hand, and making it possible to see Holmes' world. And of course: Happy Birthday, Mr. Holmes.

You don't look a day over 162. 

MD

Photography by me, MD. All museum photographs were taken with permission from 221 B Sherlock Holmes museum. 

"Wonderstruck" Meeting My Childhood Hero, Brian Selznick

If you are anything like me, being excited is not good for you. I am sure many people can keep their excitement to a reasonable level, but I am not one of them. When it comes to excitement, I either feel nothing, or I am 10/10 on the excitement scale, and slowly exhaling into a paper bag. 

There weren't paper bags in the bus to meet Brian Selznick. But there were lovely clouds outside the window. I hoped this was the universe's sign that I would not need a paper bag. Or, I would find a very nice paper bag in Milwaukee, the sturdy kind that can hold hoagie sandwiches. 

I was first introduced to Brian Selznick's drawings by my grade school librarian. She knew I loved to draw, and I did not take art lessons. I remember one day I came into the library and she told me she had a surprise waiting for me. I was confused, but when I opened the book, I saw it was called The Invention of Hugo Cabret. You can imagine my surprise, and my joy.

Here's what I saw:

From that moment on, I had a new art teacher. His name was Brian Selznick. My art teacher named Brian Selznick did not even know he had an art student, but it still worked all the same. I would look at his drawings for hours. I tried to recreate eyes, poses, hands, landscapes. His art taught me how to draw. After my aunt passed, he became the art teacher I so desperately needed. 

He also became a voice that told me it was okay to be different. It was okay to make your own family. 

When I met Brian Selznick, he came up to me and said, "Hi, I'm Brian."

I think I just stared at him and said, "I know...."

*Forty seconds later, my brain began to work, and we ended up having a lovely conversation. Our heroes are just people, after all. It was just a wonderful feeling to know my hero was a good person in real life.

Photo credit: @MrSchuReads--I stole this from you! 

I was able to ask him how he made his excellent dragon in his book trailer for The Marvels. I was also able to tell him that he was my art teacher when I did not have one, and that his books meant a lot to me. It felt good. It was the gift of thanks, ultimately, I wanted to give him. Books have a massive impact on the lives of kids. Somewhere, when I talked to him, I still felt like that small kid who is learning it is alright to be me. Today, I still feel like I am learning it is worthwhile to search beyond the ordinary. Why?

Well, there's extraordinary people and life experiences waiting for me.

And for you, too.

Thank you, Brian Selznick,

MD

P.S. Special thanks to Mr. Schu (@MrSchuReads) and Scholastic for this opportunity. 

*Approximately; could have been longer. Real-time does not exist on the 10/10 excitement scale. Ex: Youtube search "sloth lady on the Ellen Degeneres show."