The Story of Joey Sludgedirt

In my last post I promised a story about a boy named Joey Sludgedirt. Well, almost as soon as I posted that I realized a better story would be about a KANGAROO named Joey Sludgedirt. It would be better because of at least two reasons 1) all baby kangaroos are called "joeys" and 2) it would be more fun! So...here it is.

THE STORY OF JOEY SLUDGEDIRT

Joey was a Kangaroo. He lived in Australia but he never considered what country or continent he lived in the way people do. His first home was Mom’s pouch. In fact, he thought he was somehow part of Mom. But he soon learned he was separate from Mom and that sometimes, when something called “safe” happened, he was allowed to crawl outside Mom onto the ground. His Mom always called him, “my darling Joey Jumper.” And she did this a lot when he wasn’t jumping. In fact, it was mostly while she licked a spot on his right ear.


Joey didn’t know it, but there was a whiter spot on his brown fur on his right ear. It had little brown dots inside it. His mother adored the spot but Joey would soon discover a different reaction from others.

It wasn’t long before Joey grew larger and rarely was in Mom’s pouch. He was strong enough to bound about on his own and he soon made friends with other young roos. This was fun because Joey loved to jump and bound. It was his most favorite thing to do, and he thought it was especially fun to share bounding games with other roos. But on the third day of his newfound freedom this changed. Joey's playmates started calling him “Joey Sludgedirt.” They said there was a spot on his ear that looked like a mud smear (this is what roos call sludgedirt).

Joey didn’t like the name and he couldn’t see the spot. At first he didn’t believe the other roos and he was angry with them for calling him sludgedirt. But a strange thing happened. Because the roos kept calling him the name day after day, Joey started to accept that his real name was Joey Sludgedirt. He felt…like he was worth less than the other roos. Like he wasn’t as good as them and he never would be.

His mother noticed the difference in Joey. He wasn’t the happy young roo he used to be, always carefree and ready to jump. She said, “My darling Joey Jumper, what has trapped your feet? You don’t find joy in bounding?”

“Mom,” said Joey, looking down at his large roo feet, “there’s nothing wrong with my feet. It’s…my name.”

“Your name? How can a name stop anyone from jumping?”

“Mine is…because I’m not…because I’m mud.”

“Nonsense, Joey. Your name is Joey Jumper…it has nothing to do with mud!”

Joey was puzzled. You see, he didn’t remember the time when he wasn’t called Joey Sludgedirt. But when he heard that he was Joey Jumper instead, a memory of his mother whispering the name and licking the back of his ear came into his small roo head.

Seeing Joey’s puzzled face, his mother hopped along saying, “Follow me. There’s something I need to show you.”

When they reached the river bank Joey’s mom stopped bounding and asked, “What is flowing here?”

Joey shrugged and said, “Water, of course.”

“Hmm. So you can drink it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do so.”

So Joey bent over and began lapping up the clear, cool liquid. His mother asked, “What if I said this water was sludgedirt?”

Joey smiled and said, “You could say that, but I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because…” said Joey, “you can’t drink sludgedirt. It doesn’t flow like this!”

“Does sludgedirt bound?”

Joey flicked his ears and said, “No, of course not…” and he saw the spot on his ear in the reflection of the water. “Hey, it’s the spot! So that’s what they meant.”

Joey studied the spot a long time. His mother waited patiently. He turned to her and said, “You know, it doesn’t even look like sludgedirt.”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s just a silly nickname.”

“Of course!" shouted Joey. "It’s just a made-up name. From now on no matter what the other roos call me I know the truth!”

And the truth about who he really was set Joey free. Now he didn’t care what name he was called…he knew it didn’t change his true self.

Words...or Labels?

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.

This is the amazing announcement of the writer John in the New Testament. Can you believe such a thing--the WORD was a person and this person always existed with God? John goes on to tell us that the Word co-created everything with God. Well...that's a powerful Word.

As a writer, words are important to me. I use them to create a story. Selecting just the right group of words to describe an object, or a mood, or a setting adds spice to a story. Spice is good--it changes a dull and tasteless food to a lively and enjoyable one. Sometimes words are so powerful people want to memorize them--like in a song or a poem. Sometimes you don't want to remember them but they get stuck in your head like gum sticks to your shoe. And try as you might to rid yourself of it, it follows you around step by step.

That's often the way it is when someone tries to use words to bully you. Then the words are meant to put a label on you...and its usually a false one that they want to convince you is true. Like someone picking up a jar of crunchy peanut butter and instead of pasting the label that reads "Crunchy Peanut Butter" on it, they smear the label on that says "Mashed Peas." But do the words "Mashed Peas" turn the jar of crunchy peanut butter into green slimy mush? Of course not. The peanut butter is still peanut butter no matter what the label says.

The Word is powerful. Labels...not so much. In my next post I'll write a little story about a boy who got confused because of his name...Joey Sludgedirt.

Morning Word

I've always been a "morning person." That's not to say I'm ready to jump right out of bed when the alarm clock cackles before 6 am. Still...I cherish the morning, more so than any other part of the day. The morning is fresh, life made new...a clean start. That's what this blog represents for me and my writing...a fresh start.

The first Wiggleton book appeared in 2003. Although I wrote and mostly illustrated the second Wiggleton book that same year, I never published it. Seven years later...Wiggleton's Wrong Way Home, the second book of The Talismon Tales series, is available on Amazon Kindle as an ebook. Welcome to a new day.

MORNING HAS BROKEN

Morning has broken
Like the first morning,
Black bird has spoken
Like the first bird.

Praise the singing!
Praise for the morning!
Praise for them springing
Fresh from the Word!


Words: Eleanor Farjeon

More about words in my next post.