Thursday, January 18, 2001


Baslow has written to you, Dear Reader, about every member of his immediate family except one: his youngest. She is nine years old. She is tall for her age, quite poised, very smart, kind-hearted, mostly stoic, ethical, good-natured, and artistic. She is also a bit of a mystery.

Although she often is quite gregarious she always reserves a part of herself; has done this since she could talk. She seems silenced, flummoxed almost, by praise. If something is wrong it is often a difficult job to get her to say just what it is.

She is engaged, at this point in her development, in an extended exploration of the aesthetic of cuteness. She draws PowerPuff Girls, variations on PowerPuff Girls, wide-eyed cartoon critters, etc. She plans elaborate theme parties (her birthday is at the end of March) and has drawn up a schedule of activities. She is already sifting through ideas for her next Halloween costume.

Occasionally Baslow and Mrs. Baslow catch a glimpse of a darkly satirical aspect of their daughter's outlook.

She told her mother that, for Halloween, she wanted to be a "dead model".

"A dead model?" inquired her mother, somewhat taken aback. " How did you come up with that idea?"

"Look at models' eyes." responded Baslow's youngest. "They already LOOK dead."

No comments: