We’ve long had an affinity for the word “fascinating.” It’s a great word.
The best thing about it is that it’s neither good nor bad. It carries no inherent positivity or negativity. “Fascinating” simply means irresistibly drawing someone’s attention and interest. And plenty of things — both good and bad — do exactly that.
I’m fascinated by our adherence to childhood truths.
Of course, some deeply held childhood “truths” weren’t true at all: chewing gum doesn’t stay in your stomach for seven years; you won’t swallow eight spiders in your sleep this year; and the moon isn’t made of cheese.
But some truths endure. Sitting too close to the TV can strain your eyes. Carrots will aid your vision. And soap really does kill germs.
And sometimes timeless truths arrive wrapped in something seemingly absurd — if we’re willing to look closely enough. Take the Sneetches, for example.
The Sneetches came to us 65 years ago through the iconic imagination of Theodor Seuss Geisel — known best to us as Dr. Seuss.
They were furry, feathery, yellow, bird-like creatures who walked upright with arms instead of wings. In their community, there were two kinds: star-bellied Sneetches and plain-bellied Sneetches.
The star-bellied Sneetches were considered elite; the plain-bellied were shunned. Each group judged the other and was grateful not to be the other. As Seuss wrote of the star-bellied Sneetches: “With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort, ‘We’ll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!’”
Then came a traveling salesman — better identified as a smooth-talking con artist — calling himself “the Fix-It-Up Chappie.” Née Sylvester McMonkey McBean offered the plain-bellied Sneetches a chance to imprint stars on their stomachs using his “Star-On machine.” Only three dollars each.
“Just pay me your money and hop right aboard!”
So they did. The plain-bellied Sneetches got their stars and, with them, access to elite status.
But the original star-bellied Sneetches feared losing what they perceived made them special. Ever the opportunist, McBean introduced his “Star-Off machine.” Removing stars, however, cost ten dollars each.
Soon Sneetches were running everywhere — stars on, stars off, then on and off again. Chaos followed. Judgment flourished. Their community fractured because they focused more on their differences than their shared humanity.
Eventually, though, the Sneetches realized the foolishness belonged to all of them, stars or no stars. By justifying reasons to look down on one another, they were destroying their own community.
“The Sneetches got really quite smart on that day… The day they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches. And no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches.”
A childhood truth that remains true today — and one we could still stand to learn from.
Fascinating.
Respectfully…
AR