Mr. Coconut

I had planned to make a blog entry by Monday of each week and this week I would have pictures of how to make a puppet from a stuffed toy. The making wasn’t the problem; the cold (and taking and uploading the pictures) was.

So I figured I could write about my most favorite puppetry incident: the arrival of Mr. Coconut. And then I’ll give you some pretty easy homework which will not be graded but will last your lifetime as a puppeteer. Isn’t that great? Of course it is.

This happened nearly forty years ago and has stayed with me, fresh and evergreen, through all these years. Naturally, it involved my husband and fresh produce; how could I forget?

I was a young wife, married maybe a year, maybe two, and my husband was just back from the army. I went grocery shopping and he asked to go along. As I remember, it was a bright and sunny day in Chicago and a wonderful day to walk to the Krogers.

As we were in the produce section (and I was on my mettle, surrounded by all those older, more experienced shoppers), I was paying lots of attention to my list and the produce and very little to my hubby. Bad idea. Because the next thing I knew, he walked up to the shopping cart with a hairy oval fruit, wiggled his hand and said in falsetto, “Hi! I’m Mr. Coconut!”

He was grinning. Primly, I said, “Put that back or put it in the cart.” I hope that somewhere in there, I laughed. Probably, I didn’t. I took myself very seriously in those days.

Cut to thirty or forty years later when I’m becoming a puppeteer. Finally, I can be not-quite-so-serious about myself and my work which now includes puppets. As I work on technique, working to make my puppets live, I remember that day in the grocery store.

My husband had just walked up to a piece of fruit, noticed its potential, and connected with it instinctively. He gave it a voice and a personality and words to say. He was --- at that moment in time --- an expert puppeteer.

O.K. So he’s a goof. That helps. And he was accepted into the first class of Ringling Bros. Clown College. That helps, too. (He didn’t go, but that’s another story.) How could I get that spontaneous connection?

Practice. And a little imagination.

And here comes your homework. No, you needn’t go to the grocery and be a goof in the produce isle. That’s already been done by my dear hubby. But you might go to your fridge and look in the crisper. What would that zucchini’s or pear’s voice sound like?

Go to your closet and take a look inside. What would your cotton blouse vs. your silk blouse sound like? Would one be prim and the other sultry? And if so, which one?

Do you sew or have a box full of cloth scraps somewhere? What would that leopard skin print sound like? Would a hot pink scrap sound like a little kid chewing gum, a teenager from the 50s, or a southern belle? See what I mean?

Now, try saying some of those voices out loud. Record them, if you like, just to hear what your voice is doing with this challenge. If it doesn’t sound as you would like, try variations and record them, too.

As you go through your house, give voice to some of the objects there. But don’t rush; you have a lifetime to do this, young puppeteer! That’s your homework for the rest of your life: to imagine the spirits (if you will) of various objects and to make some of them come to life. That’s what puppeteers do and you can, too. Just think of Mr. Coconut!