Remembering Chester, Harry, Tucker, and the Little Boy I Miss

When I was cleaning out my classroom last spring to prepare for my maternity leave, I came across an old copy of George Selden's The Cricket in Times Square (Dell Publishing, copyright 1960 by George Selden and Garth Williams).  I opened it--browsing old books being, of course, one of the wonderful distractions offered by massive clean-ups--and was immediately grateful that I had; on the inside front cover, a dull pencil had dug the letters of my brother's name, "James J. Tascio," in neat elementary-school handwriting under a stamped picture of Christopher Robin reading a story to Pooh Bear.  The book came home with me and was one of the tales I blissfully drank in while my son just as blissfully nursed in our quiet apartment north of New York City.

The story is about Chester the cricket, who finds himself in the Times Square subway station after accidentally becoming trapped among the leftover roast beef sandwiches of a New York family that had been picnicking in his native Connecticut.  Disoriented and alone, Chester is befriended by Tucker the mouse, Harry the cat, and a little boy named Mario whose family owns a failing newsstand in the subway station.

Mario adores Chester, and his mother grudgingly allows him to keep the cricket.  Soon, however, she brims with enthusiasm for Chester when her husband discovers his talent for chirping any melody he hears and the newsstand makes a fortune on cricket concerts.  Chester is thrilled to help his adopted family, but before long, he grows tired of city life and his exhausting schedule of performances.  His furry friends help him hop a train back to New England, but not before Chester has saved the newsstand and brought unexpected calm and delight to the underground commuters.

I'm not sure if I read this book as a child; I know I saw the cartoon, and I wonder if it could have been as good.  But whether it was for the first time or not, I loved reading this book.  George Selden's simple, whimsical story and Garth William's illustrations--which brought back memories of reading Charlotte's Web about a dozen times--spoke to me of everything that is great about children's stories.  

And my heart swelled when I thought of the little boy who had painstakingly written his name on the inside front cover: a little boy who is now a wanderer himself, in and out of New York unpredictably and never staying long, but bringing his own sort of music whenever he comes.  I was hit in the gut with missing him and admiring the tender touch of the author when I read the dialogue on the last page:

Tucker Mouse changed his position.  "Harry," he said.

"Yes?" said Harry Cat.

"Maybe next summer we could go to the country."

"Maybe we can."

"I mean--the country in Connecticut," said Tucker.

"I know what you meant," said Harry Cat.