Don't Touch That Bucket of Water!

One aspect of Facebook is the proliferation of quizzes that you can take. What novelist are you? What philosopher are you? Find Your Perfect Job in the Empire! (Which prompted my friend Dave, targeted as the Grand Moff, to write: "I'll be happy to be Tarkin so long as I'm smart enough to get the heck off the Death Star before Luke comes hurtling at it in that damn X-Wing. You won't catch me saying, "What, evacuate in our hour of triumph?" My line would be, "Why, yes, I think I should get out of here since I can hear John Williams music that sounds sort of rebel-victory-ish.") (Hint: Don't ever read Dave's Facebook page while sipping any beverage as the result is likely to be you spewing the drink all over your monitor while you laugh.)

On the novelist quiz, I was tagged for Virginia Woolf, as was my almost daughter-in-law, Alise. That was a neat piece of symmetry, given that before I met Alise, my younger son Sam said "you'll really like Alise, mom. She's a lot like you!"

This morning I took the "What Wizard of Oz character are you?" quiz. The ten multiple choice questions ranged from favorite color (blue) to favorite movie from a list of several (I chose "What Dreams May Come," although I wavered between that, "Hoosiers," and "Catch Me If You Can," an eclectic viewing choice if ever there was one). I then clicked for results and waited breathlessly, only to find out that the character I am most like is…

…the Wicked Witch.

The quiz summarized my character as follows: You are very misunderstood. You have been different all your life. You have made a few bad choices, but deep down, you just want what everyone else has.

Hmmn. Am I being typecast (which, if I remember, was the fate of Margaret Hamilton after playing that role)?

"The Wizard of Oz," the 1939 Judy Garland version, is my very favorite movie of all time. I grew up watching it on the television, I saw it on the big screen for the first time when I was in college and loved it even more. In law school I owned a pair of pearly pink, Glinda-pink shoes (a little known fact that stumps people every time there is one of those "guess who in the room…?" icebreakers). I know the ending verse (deleted from the movie) to "If I only had a brain." I own most of the Oz books that L. Frank Baum wrote, as well as novels built on Oz themes, from Was to Wicked. I have a copy of the hilarious Bobby McFerrin version of "The Wizard of Oz," as well as the beautiful rendition of "Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. I have visited the grave of L. Frank Baum (Forest Lawn, Glendale) and among my failed writing attempts is an Oz novel where Dorothy returns to Kansas in modern times as a young adult.

But the Wicked Witch?

In my heart of hearts, I always wanted to be Glinda. Loved the crown, loved the dress, really loved the bubble. I owned a pink wand for a number of years and even took it to one zoning hearing. My second choice would have been Dorothy, but only for those way cool ruby slippers.

But the Wicked Witch?

Okay, she does have some great lines in the movie, including the one about Dorothy's "mangy little dog." The flying monkeys are really nifty. And in recent years, many of us have reevaluated her true character in light of Gregory Maguire, the brilliant author of Wicked, who did a bang-up job in portraying the witch not as a source of evil but as a bright and famously misunderstood activist.

But the Wicked Witch?

I need to think about this. After all, these things must be done delicately...