The Fabulous Adventures of Freddy Flip-flop

Siblings battling over the television is nothing new, but for the youngest of seven children, Freddy Flip-flop's challenges turned out to be more entertaining than the TV.

I was born the youngest of seven children. We had six girls and one boy in my family, and yes, my brother was incredibly spoiled. He was the second oldest and considerably larger in stature than his four younger and one older sister.

Despite this, my mother considered my brother Bill to be unfairly outnumbered. She was convinced that, as she used to say, "You girls pick on your brother." Being 12 years younger and clearly much smaller than my brother, I was always mystified at this lack of reason on my mother's part.

No matter what he did, it seemed as if my brother Bill could do no wrong. As the youngest of seven, I rarely had the good fortune to be in control of what we watched on the television. My mother had a rule that we were only allowed to watch one hour of TV each week, and we had one TV to share between the seven of us.

On the unusual occasion that I was even able to watch TV, my brother would come along, pick me up out of my chair and dump me on the floor. Then he would plop down in my chair and change the channel to watch whatever he wanted to. This would infuriate me, and I would storm in to complain to my mother.

Even when I was in my teens (and my brother was therefore in his 20s) my mother remained convinced that "Poor Bill" was being picked on. What added insult to injury was that if I was ever lucky enough to get past my brother, I then had five older sisters to contend with. They were even more of a challenge when it came to determining who got to watch TV and at what time.

Over time I realized that it all boiled down to power and authority—neither of which I had. No matter how logical my argument was, this was a battle that I would never win. My father, on the other hand, could always be counted on to use reason and logic when confronted with any situation. Living in a house with six girls and my mother had left him rather immune to emotional outbursts. In addition, he was an attorney and appreciated a good spirited debate when approached with any problem.

My father tended to offer long arguments on the merits of something that he was discussing. These were usually met with an eye roll and deep sigh from his daughters, as we resigned ourselves to a long dissertation on the subject at hand. Even when we were reprimanded and "in trouble," his lectures used big words like heretofore and wherewithal, and they seemed to go on forever.

Maybe that was his strategy when we came to him with our complaints. He would talk for so long that we became tired of our position and simply gave up! I guess it worked because to this day I have no desire to fight with anyone over what to watch on TV. In fact, I have my own television and my own chair so that I never have to share or negotiate.

However, my inability to watch TV growing up created within me an intense love of reading and, later on, writing. I could easily escape into the world of books and imaginary lands of make believe. I definitely had what you would call an active imagination. As it turns out, so did my father.

Some of my favorite childhood memories of him were the bedtime stories he would create for me. After he had locked the doors and looked under my sister's bed for the robbers she was insisted were hiding there, he then inspected her closets for any scary creatures that might be lurking inside. Once this nightly ritual was completed, he made his way into my room to say good night and tell me one more fabulous story before I went to sleep.

Maybe all of his long dissertations and love of words prepared him for this task. Each night I would prepare my latest challenge for my father, and try to think up the most impossible title for an adventure between two characters that he had created. I'm not sure where the main character first came from, but every story centered around a little boy whose name was Freddy Flip-flop, and he had an obnoxious, pesky older sister name Beatrice Bucktooth.

Now Beatrice, as you might imagine, spoke with a terrible lisp in a high-pitched whining tone, and she was always interrupting Freddy at crucial points in the story. What I loved about this time with my father is that he seemed to enjoy these stories as much as I did. He was widely known for conducting himself in a very formal manner and was fastidiously proper. Most of my friends found him incredibly intimidating, until they got to know him. Yet when he was narrating one of these stories, he became quite animated and created a world that we loved to inhabit together.

Part of the fun was that I got to make up the title of each bedtime story. While I was waiting for my father to come in and begin his tale, I would do my best to concoct the wildest and most ridiculous title that I could imagine. It never even occurred to me that this was probably quite a challenge for my father. It required him to be very creative and inventive at the end of a very long day he had spent working to provide as the father of seven children, but he always met the challenge with great ingenuity and fun.

I would announce the title, and off we would go. I might say, "Tell me the story of Freddy Flip-flop and the Purple Hippopotamus with Pink Slippers." Or, I would want to hear The Adventures of Freddy Flip-flop and the Magic Yellow Banana That Could Sing. It really didn't matter what I came up with, my father always complied and narrated a magical tale with all the elements described in its title.

Freddy was frequently faced with some challenge that required creativity and self-determination to overcome. Annoying Beatrice always appeared somewhere in the story line and would say in her terrible lisp, "BUT FRWEDDY, YOU CANTH DO THAAT!" And thus, Freddy would get mad. Invariably this inspired Freddy to do exactly what Beatrice Bucktooth told him he couldn't do, and that was usually how the story unfolded and reached its conclusion.

Freddy was always successful after some confounding challenge, outsmarting his big sister and getting to do what he wanted in spite of her. I was much older before I realized that my father probably had his own message encoded within that story. In every one of Freddy's adventures was the idea that sometimes it is important not to listen to what other people tell you that you can or cannot do. If I used my imagination and followed my heart, I could be successful and achieve what I want.

I don't think that my father felt he was able to do this in the life he led. As a husband and father of seven, he sacrificed most of his life for us in an effort to provide what he thought we needed. Being responsible and living with integrity were the two things my father valued most in his life, and he tried to impart that to us on a daily basis.

Yet, I think he also had a dream for us to have the courage to take risks that he was not able to, and be courageous and have the faith to find our own greatness. He knew how challenging it can be when too many people offer their opinion and advice. He certainly had enough women in his life telling him what they wanted him to do! I think deep down, he wanted me to figure out what was best for me and to follow through on it, which is what Freddy Flip-flop always managed to do by the end of every story.

I hope my father would be proud of me today, because in addition to being a wonderful storyteller, he was a prolific and talented writer. I know he would be happy to see my determination to write and express myself in this manner. Some days I struggle with the voices that tell me to give up my writing and go back to doing something that makes a lot more money. In my never-ending quest to pay my bills and make my way in the world, writing does not always feel like the most responsible choice. But then I think of Freddy Flip-flop and his creative abilities that enabled him to meet every challenge and experience inevitable success.

Maybe the annoying sound of Beatrice Bucktooth is the voice inside of all us that tells us we can't or won't succeed. The nice thing about growing up is that even though I'm still the youngest, I no longer have to listen to anyone tell me what to do. Defiant and determined as ever, I persevere and still believe that doing what you love is the most important thing of all. When you do that, everything else seems to take care of itself. At least that is what happens in the Fabulous Adventures of Freddy Flip-flop, and I'm pretty sure that is what my father wanted me to believe.