jim henson

Jim Henson passed away twenty-one years ago today. I was twenty-one. Thomas was almost seven months. And we hadn’t thought of Tayler yet (though that would change at the end of July).

Sesame Street taught me how to read, write, count, and imagine. It also introduced the world to that wonderful song none of us can get out of our heads. In the sixth grade, our choir sang Rainbow Connection at concerts and in competition – and sometimes the instructor had me sing solo. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen The Muppet Movie. But I do remember watching it for the first time on the big screen. It didn’t come to our theater in Corbin, so we drove to Williamsburg. Now, my cousin Adrienne was (and I’m assuming she still is because some things we just don’t outgrow) a huge Miss Piggy fan – she carried her Miss Piggy with her everywhere. During the movie, Adrienne sat her doll where she could see the screen, too.

I remember when the news came across the television. I didn’t believe it. And I just sat there and cried and cried. If I’m remembering correctly, that was the First Major Death of someone from my childhood – the next would be Freddie Mercury (like I said, if I’m remembering right).

Life’s like a movie, write your own ending. Keep believing, keep pretending. – Jim Henson

jim and kermit

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Author: Mari Adkins

Appalachian gothic fiction writer - my works reflect a love of literature flavored by the darkness and magic residing in these ancient mountains. In my spare time, I'm a Simmer, I tumbl, I journal, but I always have a very strange sense of humor. I have lived away from the mountains and lived deep in the mountains. I currently live in Central Kentucky with my lifepartner and his cat. The mountains, their culture, their superstitions, their particular magics, will always be in my blood.