Going on a walk with Zelly

I could not wait for When Life Gives You O.J. to come out.  A few years ago, I listened to Erica Perl read about a girl who agreed to walk an orange juice jug as if it were a dog, and I was amusingly hooked. But it wasn’t so much because I hoped Zelly, the main character, would get a real dog. I loved Zelly’s voice. I liked the story she was telling.  I wanted to join her on her walks with OJ – the orange juice jug dog.

Zelly doesn’t call what she’s doing an agreement.  She calls it “a mess.” This mess started with a note from Ace, her grandfather, who will give you the giggles everytime you see him on the page.  And trust me, YOU’LL SEE HIM ON THE PAGE.

Ace gives Zelly an empty orange juice jug and tells her it’s her practice dog.

‘KID,’ said Ace, ‘MEET YOUR NEW DOG.’

I stood there, holding the jug and staring at him.  I knew crazy people sometimes heard voices in their heads or saw things that other people couldn’t see. Did Ace think there was a dog there in the room with us?

‘Um, where?’ I asked.

Ace reached out and thumped the orange juice jug with his hand.

‘RIGHT THERE. YOU’RE HOLDING HIM.’

‘I….This?’ I held out the jug with both hands to make sure I understood what he was saying.

‘… THIS IS WHAT YOU USE TO SHOW YOUR PARENTS THAT YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE ENOUGH TO GET A REAL DOG.’

Ace shows Zelly how to walk the jug, despite it not having legs, so it’s actually a drag. He even has procedure for the jug to relieve itself.

Zelly doesn’t understand how taking care of an empty orange juice jug is going to convince her parents to get a dog.  This is what I love about Erica Perl’s books: she explores the possibilities of things that aren’t real. And she does it using characters who are in the midst of a change: a move, a subtle shift in friendship, the beginning of a new one, a few first steps into adolescence.  These things all swirl around an empty orange juice jug as Zelly figures out what to do with it.

I like stories that I can step into and see myself in.  Granted, I’m terrified of dogs and walking an orange juice jug sounds much more appealing to me than the real thing.  But I could relate to Zelly’s observations of her friends, and I laughed with familarity at some of the conversations and situations she found herself in.

I loved the scene where Ace explains why Zelly can’t go to her friend Allie’s summer camp:

‘IT’S FOR THE GOYIM,’…..

‘Dad!’ said my mom.

‘WHAT? IT’S TRUE. WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?’

‘What’s ‘the goyim’?’ I asked.

‘It means ‘non-Jewish people,’ said my dad.

‘What’s wrong with non-Jewish people?’

‘Nothing!’ said my mom and dad together.

‘Do you have something against non-Jewish people?’ I asked them suspiciously.

‘Of course not,’ said my mom, glaring at Ace.

‘Then why can’t I go?’

‘Sweetie,’ said my mom, ‘that camp is run by a church. So a lot of the activities are church-related. Church songs, church crafts-‘

‘MAKING FUDGE,’ added Ace.

‘Dad!’ snapped my mom.

‘What does that mean?’ I asked him.

Ace shrugged. ‘IT’S A PROVEN FACT: JEWS CAN’T MAKE FUDGE. THE GOYIM, THEY KNOW HOW TO MAKE FUDGE.'”

I appreciate this scene not just because it’s hilarious, but because the author puts Zelly in a safe situation to begin to explore the world around her.  She has a humorous, loving family whom she can not only beg for a dog, but also talk about perhaps heftier subjects that come her way.

I had a friend named Mollie growing up who never failed to give me the giggles.  We’d known each other since we were 5 so there were lots of walks home from school,  and notes to each other folded in neat triangles, or rectangles with little tabs that you’d pull to open.  I went to her bat mitzvah and she visited my youth group meetings every so often.  We concerned ourselves with the sorts of things Zelly talked about with her friend Allie – other classmates, summertime activities, how much candy we could eat before we got home from school – but our religion, our faith, was there too.

One afternoon Mollie and I were sitting on the sidewalk in front of my home.  I can’t remember how old we were, but we’d been friends long enough to sit outside on the warm cement with nothing to do but talk and peel bark off sticks on a lazy afternoon.

We spoke a bit about heaven.  I don’t remember how the conversation went. I don’t remember whether she and I had questions for the other.  I just remember sitting under an oak tree with my friend murmuring about a mystery we weren’t sure of.

It reminds me of the book Dear Elijah, where the main character Rebecca is Jewish and, like Zelly, has a Christian friend.  They discuss the difference between them, and while they don’t have an answer either, Rebecca writes, “If Ann and I were the same, she wouldn’t be asking me questions.  I wouldn’t be thinking of my own questions. We wouldn’t ever need to ask. Maybe even questions would disappear.  I like questions… I like to sit next to Ann and wonder about the mystery of it all.”

There’s mystery in walking around with an empty orange juice jug.  Perhaps there’s some concern for how one looks walking it around the neighborhood.  Maybe there are questions regarding whether one is correctly walking the fake dog. I think there is even a belief that doing this will never get you the real thing.  But like another of Perl’s books, Dotty, things that don’t seem to be real follow us along on leashes – that we choose to continue to hold – no matter what we’re facing.  I’m glad to walk with Zelly as she figures some of it out.