LUCKY'S GREAT ESCAPE

Based on truth, "THE GREAT ESCAPE" was a classic WWII movie from 1963. If you strip away its plot and individual performances, you're left with the simple concept of, freedom at all costs.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjF8sjuPLxU&feature=related
TO GET IN THE MOOD, CLICK ABOVE, FOR "GREAT ESCAPE" THEME MUSIC.

I will now relate...life and death struggles for freedom with pre-school birthday parties.

Before my son Andrew entered first grade, typical places for kiddie parties included: Diane's Tot Spot, Kidz at Play, Tunnels of Fun and the Children's Museum. More upscale gatherings were often punctuated with clowns, face-painters and magicians. While the artistocrasy might have rented a pony ride or a Moon-Bouncer.

A common finale to such festivities was the vaunted gift opening ceremony. The funniest part of this ritual is that overwhelming, attending parents diluted themself into believing that their offering was the most generous, beautiful, clever, useful and/or memorable. It's almost unavoidable that these invitees would call attention to their tribute as to prepare everyone for the recipient or parent's...WOW !

In such matters, it is my experience that these expectations of grandeur are over-stated. More specifically, the gifts at children's parties are predictable because they are recycled from a narrow range of ideas. However at age three, my son Andrew did receive one unique gift that has always stood out in my mind. Its aesthetics were so subtle that at the time, nobody recognized the potential of this plaything's practicality, artistic nature, educational value and long-term hands-on fun.

To those without imagination this cool and enchanting gift seemed nothing more than a mail-away certificate. After our big event, even we over-looked it as we sifted through our boy's latest haul. Until a few days later, my wife Sue took a closer look.  She realized its potential and sent away for...a live froglet. 

That's right, a real baby frog was delivered to our frontdoor in a packet labeled, "PERISHABLES" by our omni-creepy postman, Ed, (whose obvious curiosity made him seem hungrily to eager to ask what was inside). 

At the dining room table, we unwrapped the prize.  Included with the mini-amphibian was...of all things...a lifetime guarantee. Which meant you could indefinitely get new froggies, each time one met its demise.

To support the experience, we bought a small plastic "frog-house" and left it Andrew's room. When it was cleaninng, feeding or fresh water time, the tank's snapping lid was opened at the kitchen sink. Sometimes the cage stayed there for a few days.

On a rare occasion when a worm was found in the garden, there was high drama as we watched and waited for the circle of life to be demonstrated, in a spaghetti-like slurp. This tradition started with Frog-I, (aka Frenchy). Yes, I admit it was wrong of me to teach my son political incorrectness...but I ask you, what else do you name a frog?

After Frenchy left this earth, he was replaced...as per the froglet company's policy by Frog Deux, (aka Pierre). Unfortunately, Pierre croaked well before his time. I'm no therapist but perhaps he didn't acclimate well to the responsibilities of being a pet.  Or maybe life in Jersey which isn't for everybody, didn't meet his high expectations. 

Soon there after, Frog Trois arrived in our mailbox, (I speculated that Ed lost his fascination in these mysterious parcels, he already had his lunch or was on vacation).   This last little green amusement in the series was named by Andrew. My son varied from the trend I had started and named his little buddy: *Lucky. 

*You might note that my Luckypierre computer screen-name, came directly from the combination of the latter two froggies.

In our backyard, we have the final resting places for Frenchy and Pierre, (as well as two guinea pigs...Zhitnik and Picasso). But the big question is...where's Lucky's crypt ?

                     INTERNET PHOTO...THIS ISN'T FRENCHY, PIERRE OR LUCKY.

Like the mistreated prisoners of war in, "THE GREAT ESCAPE," the instinct for freedom can't be measured. When the alternative is considered, risking your life to break the shackles of unjust incarceration is as obvious to animals as it is to humans. Just try catching a butterfly. Or even better...understand why a wolf caught in a bear trap will intentionally cripple itself by gnawing through its own paw to get away.

IN THE GREAT ESCAPE, THE ALL-AMERICAN BOY, STEVE McQUEEN PERSONIFIED THE FREE-SPIRIT IN ALL OF US.

At this point, to strengthen the mood, I recommend you clicking on the blue link above to hear the film's famous theme music again.

Unlike his brothers before him, Lucky was quite cunning. His petite mastermind must have been working in overdrive until all the right circumstances came together in a mixture of "THE PERFECT STORM" and the escape scene from the dentist office in "FINDING NEMO." (My most clever readers will see, the "Finding Nemo" screenwriters clearly stole the idea from Lucky).

Lucky's opportunity came at the kitchen sink when his water supply was accidentally too high AND his tank's lid wasn't snapped properly. It wasn't difficult to get out of the cell block...but how would he free himself of the penitentiary's walls. He needed an accomplice...or in this case, an unwitting one, like me.

Completely prepared, Lucky was aware of all my late night movements and tendencies. So, he had already made his Herculean leap from the counter to the floor before I got home. He knew I came home from work around 4:30AM and that I take off my shoes at the front door. Knowing I would not open the lights, the tiny mathematician painstakingly calculated the exact spot I entered the darkened kitchen. Intuitively with the help of his folding slide-ruler, desperate Lucky risked his survival to position himself...with a 3% margin of error...to be under the softer, arch side of my right foot.

When I stepped on Lucky, it felt squishy like a rotten apricot. I turned on the light and was shocked and repulsed by thought that I killed Andrew's little pet. In a panic, due to the graphic nature of the situation and my reluctance to face many difficult questions, I had to think fast. I couldn't return the corpse of Kermit's cousin to his tank. The undignified trashcan was out of the question. So I arrived at a good and logical final solution...burial at sea. I got the dust pan and squeamishly nudged the lifeless body on it with a broom. 

Luckily, Lucky was a excellent actor, under close scrutiny, he never moved or took a breath. I'm guessing that Hannibal Lecter in "SILENCE OF THE LAMBS," learned that talent from him.

I advanced to our ground floor powder room. I muttered, "bon chance, mon ami" and bid Lucky a fond adieu. Just before he splashed into the water, he looked back at me and snidely said, "Au revoir!" And added, what I later learned was...the French word for; sucker !

Lucky had indeed earned the name bestowed on him by my son.  He swam into hole and made a mad dash for the Galloway sewer system before I could even flush the toilet...voila...Cue up the music again, for Lucky's great escape!