The Pet Beans of Ana-Cecilia
A few blog posts ago, in “Pet Stories,” I mentioned that I had pet beans for a while during my childhood. After the publication of The Legend of the Flying Hotdog (which was optioned for film in 2003, a story I’ll post one of these days), I thought I might have a career as a children’s writer; so I wrote a number of children’s stories. After living in Costa Rica for a year-and-a-half, I was so enchanted by Hispanic culture that I wrote the following story in honor of the lovely Ticos and my beloved pets, Harry and Irving:
THE PET BEANS OF ANA-CECILIA
Not very long ago, in a lush valley rimmed with royal palms, a little girl lived with her family and two pet beans. Ana-Cecilia had always longed for a dog or cat, even a gerbil or mouse, but ever since her father lost his job, the family had no home and thus, nowhere to keep a pet. As Ana-Cecilia was an only child and her parents worked long, hard days picking oranges and avocados, she felt lonely until the day she discovered Harry and Irving. She found them on a gnarled, ancient tree she had never seen the like of, a tree which, for some reason, had been spared when the orchards were planted.
When Ana-Cecilia split open the pod she picked from one of the branches, she found several plump, brown beans covered with black speckles. But two in particular gleamed in the sunshine that drenched the valley. They shone with a bewitching, dancing, beckoning quality. In fact, the longer that Ana-Cecilia gazed at these two beans, the more she felt certain that they were calling to her. She thought, why not make pets out of the beans? They would cost no money, require no feeding, and they would take up practically no room at all in the family's small tent. So she plucked them gently from their pod and took them with her.
“I’m going to make a home for you,” she chattered happily to Harry and Irving. “A really nice home with pictures on the walls and rugs on the floor. Just wait,” she said; “you’re going to love it!”
Ana-Cecilia spent the afternoon transforming the box with everything her imagination and meager resources could produce. First, she made two soft beds for her pet beans with pieces of folded tissue. She adorned the walls of the box with stamps she had collected from letters written to her parents. A crumpled piece of aluminum foil transformed into a small stove, and she even found, among the former contents of the box, a tiny wooden cup painted a lovely shade of blue.
Last but not least, Ana-Cecilia made hats for them, itty-bitty hats fashioned from cardboard and tape, decorated with daubs of color from her pen set. Harry received a rakish sombrero, and Irving, who seemed more portly and dignified, received a mortar board, the tassel composed of a piece of rubber band.
At first, Harry and Irving's days passed quietly and uneventfully. They rested in bed, chatted between themselves, and gazed at the portraits that hung on the walls. But one day Ana-Cecilia's mother brought the beans a cunning little tea kettle. Another day, her father produced two exquisite, tiny bicycles made from colored electrical wire. After that, Harry and Irving took turns making coffee and serving it to one another in bed—a favorite pastime—and riding around the confines of their stationery box.
But Ana-Cecilia didn’t stop there. Over the next few weeks, she added to Harry and Irving’s furnishings, providing them with all the things she wished she could have. She gave them a miniature bureau fashioned from a cut-and-pasted postcard, as well as a bottlecap table draped with a colorful candy wrapper. On special occasions, she served them elegant, airy meals on silvery foil dishes, pleased that they seemed to enjoy the concoctions she dreamed up. 
“You’re too kind!” she would protest, just as her mother did when her father lavished her with praise. “It’s just a little something I threw together.”
As luck would have it, the family began to come across discarded furniture and kitchenware in the tangle of undergrowth that crowded the grove. They found kitchen chairs and a couple of old car seats that, cleaned up, served quite well for a sofa and loveseat. They found chipped but perfectly serviceable dishes, and even a lovely glass vase, which Ana-Cecilia’s mother kept full of fragrant blossoms.
One night, however, Ana-Cecilia and the beans awakened in their beds to hear Ana-Cecilia's mother crying softly. Concerned, Harry and Irving pricked up their ears—which most people do not even realize that beans possess—while Ana-Cecilia lay very still in her cot and listened, too.
“Ah, Ramon,” she wept, “this is no life for a child! We have no money, no house—we don’t even have enough money for another child so that Ana-Cecilia can have a brother of sister. We have nothing, not even prospects for things to get better!”
Ana-Cecilia’s father sighed. “But I’m going to get a better job,” he protested. “Things will improve, I just know it.”
But at that, she only sobbed harder, while Ana-Cecilia’s heart ached. The beans felt terrible that this kind-hearted family, who had provided them with such a cozy home, had no home of their own. They wanted to help.
The next morning, Ana-Cecilia paid a call on Harry and Irving. She poured her heart out to them. She told them all about her father's dream to design fabulous bicycles which combined the flash and whimsy of old-fashioned bikes with the technology of new ones. She said that he had tried and tried to find the money to start his company, but that no one wanted to risk a loan to someone who didn't even have an address. And her mother desperately wanted a home.
“It's up to us,” she said gravely. “We have to figure out a way to help. Any ideas?”
The tree gladly did as they asked and began to rustle in the wind. Breezes blew through the valley where the orchards grew, swirled around the tent where the small family slept, and riffled the rim where the royal palms swayed. The murmur grew into a swell, and the swell into a roar, which awakened Ana-Cecilia and sent shivers all over her, even down to her toes.
When all became quiet again, the beans had their answer. A grove of orange trees in an out-of-the-way, overgrown spot reported that they sheltered an abandoned cottage made from stone.
Armed with this information, and quite pleased with themselves for having obtained it, the beans sprang onto their bicycles and pedaled back to the tent. There they bounded onto Ana-Cecilia's pillow and whispered softly into her ear, filling her dreams with the most enchanting visions of a charming stone cottage tucked away among a tangled grove of orange trees. Before the sun rose the next morning, Harry and Irving were back in their own snug beds, snoring away in teeny little snarks and snuffles that only the sharpest-eared humans can detect.
When Ana-Cecilia awoke, she rolled out of bed with an idea to take a walk—more precisely, to take the beans on a walk. She thought that they would enjoy a visit to the tree where they had spent their young beanhood. And the sun had risen particularly bright and fine this promising, beckoning morning. So she slipped Harry and Irving into her pocket and set off into the orchard.
Oddly enough, she never could find the tree she sought. But in her wanderings, she did come across a marvelous stone cottage, just like the one that had sweetened her dreams. Plump pillows of emerald moss tufted the roof, along with thick clusters of bright pink flowers. All of the doors and windows were gone, and a few flowering vines had snaked their way into the cottage, lending it a wild, romantic air.
Ana-Cecilia set Harry and Irving on a windowsill so that they could get a good view of the place. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Did you have anything to do with this?” 
But apparently, they weren’t talking. Nevertheless, she thought they swelled in pleasure and pride as she wandered about, poking her nose here and there. Clearly, no one had lived here in some time.
Ana-Cecilia couldn’t wait until the evening when her parents came home to tell them her good news, so she ran through the orchards until she found them, high up on ladders picking fruit from the trees.
“Mama! Papa!” she cried. “I found a house! You have to come see!”
Her parents climbed quickly down their ladders. “Ana-Cecilia, calm down!” exclaimed her mother. “What is this about a house?”
“You have to come see, Mama! It’s beautiful! And no one lives there— nobody at all!”
Her father frowned. “But sweetheart, that doesn’t mean it belongs to no one. Houses aren’t like coins in the street, to be taken by anyone who comes along.”
“Papa, just come look at it!” she begged. “It’s waiting for us, I just know it!”
In the end, they relented. After work, they accompanied their daughter to the cottage that Ana-Cecilia and the beans had discovered. They fell in love with it the instant they saw it, but still, her parents insisted that they could not simply move into someone else’s house, whether it appeared deserted or not. Ana-Cecilia blinked hard to keep tears from welling up in her eyes, and she clutched Harry and Irving in her fist for comfort. Her mother and father hugged her to their sides, seeing her disappointment.
But just as they turned to go, something wonderful happened. A young man emerged from the orchard, carrying a piece of paper and a hammer in his hand.
“Hi, folks!” he greeted them, marching past to tack up his sign on the door. “You don’t know anyone who might like to take care of this place, do you?” he asked, raising his voice above the taps of his hammer. “My father’s grown too old to live here and I can’t stay here myself. We hate to sell it because we’re afraid the new owners would just tear it down to plant more orchards.”
Ana-Cecilia’s mother gasped at these words, and her father stepped closer to peer at the sign.
“You don’t have to look any further,” he beamed, seizing the young man’s hand to pump it up and down. “We would love to take care of this cottage.”
So eager were they to have a roof over their heads, the small family decided to move in right away. With the joy that the family experienced in their new home, it felt very much as though their luck had taken a turn for the better. A new wave of optimism swept through the household, brightening everything they did. Ana-Cecilia's father pursued his plans to start a bicycle company with even more hope and energy than before.
It wasn't long before the entire valley became filled with the most enchanting bicycles imaginable. They were adorned with fancy tire guards, equipped with exotic handlebars, and studded with bright, winking reflectors of all shapes and sizes. Soon, everyone in the neighboring towns was clamoring for the bicycles. Then the demand swept across the country. The family saved their money so that they could buy the lovely little cottage from the nice young man and his father. One day Ana-Cecilia’s mother brought home a little brother and later, a baby sister for Ana-Cecilia to play with.
Harry and Irving? Well, they remained in their stationery box, even though Ana-Cecilia’s father offered to build them a far grander one, because that was their home and they loved it. They did, however, accept a fancy set of new living room furniture and a teeny indoor croquet set. And their scrumptious, lavish tea parties became the talk of every tree in the neighborhood.
The End
A little history: This story was under consideration for a year by a publisher of high quality coffee table books, Stewart, Tabori & Chang, who had briefly launched a children’s line when picture book publishing was booming in the mid- to late 1980s. The editor who had the story was looking for an illustrator during that time; above are the charming drawings that the talented Greta Mesics did at my request, to send to the editor. (I’ve lost contact with Greta, so Greta, if you come across this entry, thank you again! And drop me a line some time to let me know how you’re doing and where your talent has taken you!) Unfortunately, the editor was looking for something else, so chose not to use Greta’s wonderful art; but Greta gave me the two above illustrations as a memento.
Also during this time, I took this story to a well-known children’s writing conference back East. Much to my surprise, the story got savaged in workshop. The main criticism: “People don’t get houses this way and this story minimizes homelessness.”
Really? People don’t get houses from information they’ve obtained from magic beans that ride fake teeny-tiny bicycles? In the same way that pigs don’t build houses? And pumpkins don’t turn into coaches? You know, I’m thinking it’s probably a good thing that J.K. Rowling didn’t try to publish her first novel in the U.S. or the world would be a very different place today.
Well, then the story suffered another blow. The editor, delighted to have finally found the illustrator she was looking for, presented the story to the next sales meeting. She was completely taken aback when it turned out that half the staff loved it and the other half hated it. Each side felt so passionately that they ended up screaming at each other. She almost expected a fist fight to break out.
Really? Over a story about two sweet little beans who help a sweet family find a home?
The editor was so shaken she didn’t want to give me the details, so I’m not sure what the people who hated it were in a lather about. Perhaps they had the same objection as those in the workshop: They thought it minimized homelessness. As it happens, however, I wrote this during a period that Richard and I were unable to return to the home we had built in Redding because of the economy. And I myself was yearning for a home. Perhaps they were offended that a non-Hispanic person wrote a story about a Hispanic family. Or they were offended that I created a Hispanic character who had beans for pets. I don’t know. But if that’s the case, to me, it sounds like PC insanity. I wrote this story to give myself hope that I would someday find a home. And I wrote this story to honor the delightful Costa Ricans I had come to know and love during our time in that peaceful pays. And in tribute to Harry and Irving, of course.
The editor eventually left ST&C, but one of the top children’s agents in the country heard about the story and asked to get in touch with me. She read the story and loved it. Took me on as a client and tried to place it. But never succeeded.
Well, that’s the publishing industry. And once Simon & Schuster bought Green Tiger Press, I realize now in retrospect that my budding career as a children’s author was over. But I love this story and I love the characters. And I want to share them. I’m not letting go of the copyright to this story, but I hope you enjoy Harry and Irving and Ana-Cecilia’s adventures and will share them with anyone you think would enjoy them as well.
Peace out. 
Thursday, December 10, 2009