I'VE ticked off my daughter Treena many times, but I have two especially vivid memories of a little girl bursting into angry tears at me. Paternal pride in
my daughter’s writingOnce was when I incompetently trimmed her bangs too crooked and way too short and she let out a howl that still rings in my ears.
The other time was when I got her a plum assignment when she was 8 or 9 to review a new toy for a national children's publication. When she finished her story, I gave her the benefit of my professional expertise and made a few little edits before I turned it in.
I brought it home a few weeks later, expecting her to be thrilled to see her name in print. Instead, she threw a wailing, kicking, screaming tantrum.
It seems my edits had insulted her artistic integrity, particularly where I changed her description of the toy from "insect-like" to "buggy." Hey, I was just trying to give it some kiddie pizazz. Sue me.
I thought she was over it until she asked me earlier this year to edit a term paper for one of her classes at the University of Hawaii. I started slashing away until I realized the paper was a tirade about how cruelly I had edited her bug -- excuse me, insect -- article so many years ago.
Needless to say, I didn't put a real heavy edit on that paper. "It's perfect just the way it is, sweetheart," I said, secretly hoping she'd get a "D."
I worked up the courage to ask if she might someday get over her pique at my ham-handed editing. From the dirty look she gave me, I don't expect it will be anytime soon. I've seen my share of sensitive writers -- heck, I've been one myself -- but this 20-year vendetta is Guinness material.
It comes up now because on the next page you'll see an article by Treena. I was having trouble understanding why young people don't vote and asked her to write something to explain it. When I suggested to Diane Chang, proprietress of this section, that we publish Treena's article, she barked, "You'll guarantee that it's good, right?"
I had no doubt Treena would do the assignment capably. But my promise to Diane obligated me to edit the story before I turned it in. It didn't need much work, but with great apprehension I suggested a few changes to Treena and braced for a barrage of protests. They didn't come. Treena very professionally incorporated some of my ideas and turned in a strong article. Ah, maturity.
I think you'll agree that the kid can write. I'm proud of that and not ashamed to say that it's more her mother's doing than mine. Maggie taught Treena to read when she was 3. When Treena crawled into my lap each night, she didn't ask if I would read her a story. She asked if she could read me a story.
I took her to an Orioles-Tigers double-header at Baltimore's Memorial Stadium when she was 6. My friend wasn't thrilled to have a kid with us. It was murderously hot in the uncovered upper deck and he worried that she would spend the afternoon complaining, asking to go to the bathroom and begging for refreshments.
But Treena didn't make a peep for seven hours. She read "Alice in Wonderland" during the first game and "Through the Looking Glass" during the second game.
I'm convinced all that reading made her a fine writer by osmosis.
Now she's found her way into journalism and, for one day at least, this sentimental fool can see his little girl's byline across the page from his own.
What a beautiful sight it is.
Other Views by Treena Shapiro
David Shapiro is managing editor of the Star-Bulletin.
He can be reached by e-mail at editor@starbulletin.com.
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