Dear Kermit the Frog

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Abstract

f their musical numbers on your show.</p><p id="b57b">At first I wanted to be a host like you, and later I wanted to write for the theater. Now I share my words in poems and short prose pieces like this one to try and give people a moment of recognition or a laugh or both.</p><p id="8eba">I remember seeing <i>The Great Muppet Caper</i> in the theater in 1981. Everyone was surprised to see you and so many of your friends riding bicycles together. Adults wondered aloud how the filmmakers did it. I guess I knew there were special wires or something involved, but it looked so fun and so real.</p><p id="f2d8">I know you’ve had a new voice for a long time now and aren’t retired from show business. You still look the same. People say I look the same, too, when they see pictures of me as a kid, but I tell them they just can’t see my gray hair unless they look up close.</p><p id="5bac">My girlfriend says when people say I look the sa

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me, they really mean that they can recognize me from old pictures whereas many other people are unrecognizable now from how they looked as kids. Still, I take it as a compliment.</p><p id="8628">Maybe it helps for some of us to resemble the past, like a little place to rest for a moment after forty years have hurried by.</p><div id="a8c6" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/thank-you-mrs-piggle-wiggle-7781692a9f31"> <div> <div> <h2>Thank You, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle</h2> <div><h3>Remembering Betty MacDonald’s series of children’s books</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*vuNpqBGa5jqlOSpcXuGBxw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

I still think of you

When I was a little girl, I had a hand puppet designed to look like you, but of course I could never really do justice to your voice. I had a pair of jeans with an image of you embroidered on the back pocket. I had a spiral notebook with you on the front cover.

My parents let me stay up until 8pm to watch you and your friends and your special guest stars on The Muppet Show. I became the kind of kid who could recognize people like Loretta Lynn and Raquel Welch because of their musical numbers on your show.

At first I wanted to be a host like you, and later I wanted to write for the theater. Now I share my words in poems and short prose pieces like this one to try and give people a moment of recognition or a laugh or both.

I remember seeing The Great Muppet Caper in the theater in 1981. Everyone was surprised to see you and so many of your friends riding bicycles together. Adults wondered aloud how the filmmakers did it. I guess I knew there were special wires or something involved, but it looked so fun and so real.

I know you’ve had a new voice for a long time now and aren’t retired from show business. You still look the same. People say I look the same, too, when they see pictures of me as a kid, but I tell them they just can’t see my gray hair unless they look up close.

My girlfriend says when people say I look the same, they really mean that they can recognize me from old pictures whereas many other people are unrecognizable now from how they looked as kids. Still, I take it as a compliment.

Maybe it helps for some of us to resemble the past, like a little place to rest for a moment after forty years have hurried by.