Almost Oz

My phone emits a blaring warning: A tornato has been spotted in your mobile area. Take immediate cover. 

I go outside to stare at the sky. It’s not windy, not even raining. I check the weather app and news feed: A tornado has touched down twenty kilometres away from our home and is heading toward us. 

Yes!  I’m going to Oz.

I love the Wizard of Oz. I loved it when I saw the film and read the book as a child. One of my earliest writing memories was writing a very bad version of the story when I was eight. Years later, I am ready to go. I want to see the munchkins and be gifted the oversized lollipop. I want to travel down the yellow brick path and meet old friends, Scarecrow, Tin Man and the Lion. I can’t decide which is my favourite; they change over the years. Can my dog come too?  I have Ruby, a perfect companion for me especially if I can wear the famous ruby shoes.  

The tornado sounds like an endless rumbling roar. The sky to the west darkens to a navy blue. We decide to take cover, collect the dogs and cat and huddle in our back room since we have no storm cellar. I wish we did have a cellar.  I adore the idea of a root cellar. The very word conjures up mystery and I image a magnificent cellar, filled with preserves, potatoes and squashes. Realistically, there’d been a number of cobwebs with spiders and maybe a dead mouse in the trap but still. It represents security: of food and safety.  

The sky outside is dark now, like night came early. Waiting for a possible disaster is a particular type of apprehension tinged with a mixture of dread yet excitement. 

The tornado misses our home by less than a kilometre. I feel thankful for this despite the missed opportunity to visit Oz. I don’t need to travel to Oz to know what is important to me. That’s the difference between between being fifty (gulp) and twelve (Dorothy’s approximate age).

The near experience reminds me of what is special about the book and why it has continued to be popular child’s story since it’s initial publication as the Wonderful Wizard of Oz in May 1900 and then became one of the most popular movies, made in 1939.  It is considered one of American’s greatest fairytales and its messages continue to resonate.

It’s a great story to study for the writer. It has a strong three act structure. When writing a new story, I think of the catalyst moment as a tornado. What is my tornado is the story?  When thinking about an ending, I think of the last minute plot twist when Dorothy is almost able to go home but then the balloon flies off without her. She’s so close to getting what she wants but then, there’s one final test that a heroine has to face.  

Interesting to me that the producers of the movie in 1939 decided to depict the time in Oz as a possible “dream” sequence as they felt that audience would not accept the “fantasy” portion of the story unless it could be explained away as an elaborate dream, caused by being hit on the head. 

Yet, fantasy remains one of the most successful genres; from Lord of the Rings to Harry Potter, to the Game of Thrones, fantasy allows readers to escape to another world and yet, provide powerful messages relevant to our times. Storytelling is in our DNA and when as writers we hit upon those themes that go to our core, we tap into something primal inside us. 

There’s lot of theories about the underlying theme of the Wizard of Oz. My favourite is that the author, L. Frank Baum, was an early feminist: the female characters, Dorothy and the witches, are all strong and show resilience. The male characters tend to weak and uncertain, missing a heart, a brain and courage (even the wizard turns out to be fraud). But I think the message that resonates is that search for belonging and a home. 

The following day after the torando came through, we helped our neighbours clean up their yards from fallen trees. We cut and cleared trees, piled brush, fixed a fence. Many people came out to help. I met new neighbours. A woman dropped off coffee and pastries for us. I may not have gone to Oz but by the end of the day, I went to bed contented. I can still dream of the wonderful world of Oz.