Several decades ago, I wrote my one and only children’s book and named it Marvin Shudbee.  My boyfriend was going to illustrate it for me but he envisioned Marvin as a frog.  I envisioned Marvin as a turtle in a red blazer. We had creative differences and also personal differences so Marvin remained a well-dressed turtle and the boyfriend left to maybe create amphibious fictitious heroes with somebody else. 

As it turns out, Marvin Shudbee never saw the light of day because, regardless of whether Marvin was a frog or a turtle, publishers considered Marvin Shudbee to be a fable for adults, not children.  Forty years later, I’m not sure I agree.

I stumbled into a copy of Marvin Shudbee while cleaning out a closet and read it for the first time since the mid-1970s.  I realized that Marvin was me – and a lot of other people I know.  Marvin falls apart because every time he does something, he feels like he should be doing something else, regardless of whether the outcome is good or bad.  It’s called second-guessing yourself.  Self doubt is frequently instilled in us in early childhood by fearful adults and it makes life more difficult than it needs to be. So, maybe children should know early on that they should have the courage of their convictions and live their lives without fear. 

At long last, Marvin Shudbee comes out of the closet!

Marvin Shudbee awoke from a sweet and restful slumber filled with dreams about the good old days when he was a carefree young turtle in Swamp Junction, North Dakota.

For one glorious moment, before he was fully awake, Marvin almost allowed himself to drift into joy, as he stretched his legs and scratched his hard black and yellow belly.  Within his smooth green head raced rainbow-colored thoughts which soothed his mind and made him smile. All too soon, Marvin’s smile drooped to a frown, as rainbow thoughts became clouded by total wakefulness. His eyes popped open and swept to the hands on the alarm clock beside his bed.  “Here I lie, stretching and scratching and dreaming when I should be fixing breakfast.  What a silly old turtle I am,” came Marvin’s first sobering thoughts of the day.  With a grunt and a grumble and groan, Marvin hauled himself into a sitting position, adjusted his shell, which had slipped off one shoulder while he tossed in his sleep, and started for the kitchen.

Within minutes, the air was filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and oatmeal.  Oatmeal was not one of Marvin’s favorite foods.  Whenever he placed some in his mouth, he had visions of cement being forced into a rain pipe.  After he swallowed, he would often say, “Ich, ech, brech, feh, fanoog!”  Still and all, Marvin had eaten oatmeal for as long as he could remember, even though he thought he should be eating something else.

Marvin felt like he was spending  too much time at the breakfast table and knew he should be off to work.  “How I do waste my time,” he muttered to himself.  “Lazy – that’s what I am.  Never doing what I should be doing.  What slack.”  Marvin chided himself all the while he was dressing for his day.

Marvin took great pride in his appearance.  He put on a sharp red sports jacket, navy trousers and a white turtleneck sweater.  He buffed his head until it shone like a polished marble.  Halfway out the door, he had the fleeting thought that he should be wearing his gray suit, or perhaps his green three-piece, but such second thoughts dissolved as he noticed how late it was getting.

When Marvin was grown, he left Swamp Junction and moved to Marsh City, Nebraska.  His parents had begged him to remain in North Dakota where he was safe with them but Marvin thought he should be seeing more of the world.  His parents told him that the world was a dangerous place and that he was making a big mistake.  After much thought and fretting, Marvin made a big decision.  He was going to move to Marsh City, whether he should have or not.  Sometimes, you just have to close your eyes and jump.

Marvin worked as a salesman in a big toy store.  All day long, he watched little girls and boys playing with brightly colored trucks and blocks and balls and stuffed bears and rocking horses and pogo sticks. When Marvin was a youngster, his only toy was a plastic palm tree which some visiting tadpole from the South had left behind in the swamp where Marvin was raised. Palm trees were nonexistent in North Dakota and Marvin thought that it was the most wonderful toy in the world. It protected him from the sun and rain. It was a wading pool after a drizzle.  It was a merry-go-round in the wind. Marvin carried the plastic palm tree wherever he went. And then, one day when he wasn’t paying attention, the palm tree disappeared and Marvin felt lost.

As Marvin began to wonder about what had become of his toy, he shook himself from his daydream and hissed to himself, “How can I stand here and daydream about old toys? I should be trying to make sales. I have the afternoon off. I’ll daydream then.”

At that moment, Marvin looked down and found a little girl with short, dark curls looking up at him with large round eyes.. Her mother was right behind her and she asked Marvin where the kites might be.   “Right this way,” he said, and led them to a wall full of colorful kites. They made their purchase and Marvin decided to get one for himself.  He thought, “That’s what I should be doing – flying a kite.”  He had an afternoon off, after all.

Marvin always kept a change of clothes in his car in case he got the urge to do what he supposed he should be doing while he was doing whatever it was he was doing.  It was a crisp and colorful fall day and Marvin decided to take a ride in the country with his brand-new kite.  He jumped into the back seat of his car and changed into a flannel shirt and overalls.  He removed his boots and put on a pair of red sneakers.  He was more than ready for his ride in the country.

As Marvin drove through the Nebraska cornfields, groups of children waved to him as they walked home from school.  He waved back and began to enjoy himself.  The children were friendly, the leaves were orange and gold and the corn was ready for harvesting.

Marvin stopped his car by the side of a grassy field and took out his kite.  There was a gentle wind stirring the air and the kite lifted quickly. The farm children ran after the jubilant turtle, cheering him on as he ran faster and faster and the kite rose higher and higher.  Just when Marvin seemed to be enjoying himself the most, he suddenly thought, “What am I doing, running around and making noise and flying a kite when I should be attending to chores?” 

He brought down his kite, to the disappointment of the farm children, and plodded to his car.  As he drove off, the children looked sad and the leaves on the trees looked faded.  Even the cornstalks seemed to droop.  Marvin was on his way, once again, to do what he thought he should be doing, forgetting the happiness of doing what he had been doing.

When Marvin approached his front door, he thought, “Now I am home and can, at last, attend to the chores that I should have done this afternoon.”

Marvin set out to wash, cook, clean, shop, repair shelves, pay bills and write to his parents in Swamp Junction.  Of course, he didn’t accomplish very much for while he was washing, he thought he should be cooking; while he was cooking, he thought he should be cleaning; while he was cleaning, he thought he should be shopping; while he was shopping, he though he should be repairing shelves; while he was repairing shelves, he thought he should be paying bills; while he was paying bills, he thought he should be writing letters to his parents in Swamp Junction.

After frazzled moments of jumping from task to task, Marvin threw up his hands in despair and yelled, “Blaaaaaaaaahhhhh!,” as he looked at the unfinished chores lying hither and thither around him.  The clock on the wall reminded him that it was getting late and he was feeling useless and sad.  He thought about all the things he should have enjoyed and achieved that day. He allowed himself to enjoy nothing to the fullest and little was achieved. Marvin sank into the the living room couch and had an awakening: “Every time I start doing something, I feel like I should be doing something else. Nothing gets done and it makes me feel sad.  Is that any way to live? NO!”

Marvin made a decision then and there. “From now on, the world shall know a new Marvin Shudbee,” he said triumphantly. “I shall live every moment fully and jenjoy what I AM doing instead of worrying about what I SHOULD BE doing.”

And, as Marvin closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep on the living room couch, the thought, “I should be in bed,” never crossed his mind.