Our Founding Mom #2 Heather Robertson

I guess I’ll pick up where my evil twin :O left off.  I was dropped out of the sky by a stork and Munchkinlanders, thinking I was a magic bean, carted me to the edge of Munchkinland where they planted me at the border in hopes I would protect their city.  

My twin had no idea that I was then found and raised by a pack of crafty gypsy Maniacs - ah no that’s not right.  They were a gypsy family of Mainer crafters.  Yeah that’s it.  So it’s no surprise that I’ve dabbled in most craft mediums (get it gypsies, mediums – never mind!).

After the green haze cleared I found myself in a new land.  Where the ground was quite flat, there were huge rock formations in the distance, very few trees, and the plants were as tall as me and had thorns. 

I spent countless hours exploring the new terrain… hunting for buried treasure, running from dust devils, making mud pies and digging holes I thought would lead to China; based on some unreliable information shared by fibbers (adults can NOT be trusted).  All the while on constant lookout for Gila monsters and other venomous critters, but no one had warned me of the potential threat of flying she-devils. 

I did a lot of traveling with the gypsies, especially to horse, dog and doll shows, so I got to fill the creative well with a wide variety of images and experiences at an early age. 

I spent most of my days as a brownie, but later evolved into a bluebird. 

On my 8^th birthday, I was kidnapped by a wicked witch.  She ended up dragging me all over the country.  She wouldn’t allow me to see my father.  I’m not sure what she did with my mother, but I never saw her again.  I learned to comfort myself, by delving even deeper into my imagination.  I found a way to release characters from my storybooks into Reality and found them helpful in getting me through my horrible ordeal.

My fairy godmother would visit me from time to time, while the wicked witch was busy tormenting souls.  She’d share fantastic fairy tales with me, which filled my imagination with even more characters to protect me from the witch.

Eventually the witch found out about the visits, the books and the characters, so she moved us to an island where she knew my fairy godmother could no longer influence me and took away my books.  But even there I found magical rainbows, dancers in grass skirts, a volcano goddess and lots of tales about odd beings, so I secretly continued to play with my Imaginary friends.  Even found a changeling that I consider my sister to this day.

Pretty soon my head and heart were overflowing with Imagination and it began escaping through my hands.  I filled my Barbie Dream House and 1:12 scale dollhouse with all the creations that spilled out of my little hands.  

The witch was chased off the island and we fled to the mainland, where we ended up in a humid, mosquito-infested swamp.  I was disappointed until I discovered a park with a castle and a mouse that allowed storybook characters to roam freely. 

Sensing my return, my fairy godmother began visiting again and encouraged me to use my magic gift by filling her dollhouses and room boxes with my imagination too.

The wicked witch, being jealous (maybe that’s why they’re green), told me I had to fill her dollhouses before I could work on anything else.  She thought she’d occupy my time and prevent me from creating anymore Imaginary friends. 

When I complained to my fairy godmother, she said not to worry the witch couldn’t keep me forever.

As was foretold, I was finally released from the wicked witch’s powers on my 18^th birthday and set out to find a way to support myself.  Since the witch had convinced me that I could never make a living with my imagination in the real world, I looked for practical work.  

After years of being bored to tears at monotonous jobs (oh how my poor imagination suffered), my knight in shinning armor appeared with a heart full of encouragement.  It was just what I needed to reverse the witch’s words and re-spark my imagination.  

My creative muscle was weak, but I began working it out as a greeting card artist, faux artist and interior decorator.  While I was working at regaining my strength, the witch’s words kept haunting me.  She cast a spell on me that would make me forget about my creative muscle and my dreams, which would force me to settle for yet another practical job.  

Then one day I received a blessing in disguise (probably my fairy god mother’s work again).  I injured my wing, which set a whole chain of events into action that ultimately released me from my cage.  Silly me, I had the key all along.  

I moved a few dusty chess pieces and found myself in the perfect position to remember what it was I wasn’t supposed to forget and suddenly remembered what I’ d forgotten I should have remembered if it weren’t for the wicked witch’s spell.  I had forgotten my gift -using my imagination to inspire others!  Now I spend my days jumping down rabbit holes and through looking-glasses; releasing as many creatures as I can from my daydreams into Reality to help other suffering souls out of their bewitched cages.  

May your imagination runneth over,

Heather :)

:::::waving as I jump through a looking-glass:::::