In defense of Pollyanna

I think Pollyanna might have gotten a bum rap.

More than once in my life I’ve been accused of having a “Pollyanna attitude.” I didn’t actually know what this meant, except that it was not a good thing. Being a “Pollyanna” implied having an unrealistically sunny view of whatever was happening. Since Pollyanna and I had been linked so often, I thought I should finally read the book.

For children’s literature, “Pollyanna” is one dark book.

Spoiler alert for those of you who haven’t read it: Pollyanna is more like the book of Job than any children’s book I’ve ever read. Written in 1913, the story tells how Pollyanna’s parents die and she moves in with an aunt who doesn’t want her. She is given a room in the attic, forbidden from mentioning her dead father and, in the horrible climax, is injured by one of the still rare and widely distrusted automobiles, and paralyzed from the waist down.

Through it all, she plays “The Glad Game,” in which she challenges herself to find something to be glad about in every situation — no matter how horrific.

I have to admit ... I loved it.

Earlier this week, I had dinner with my former brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Mandy and Tom. (Except Mandy insists that, since she can’t be my sister-in-law anymore, she is now my sister). Since his stroke, Tom has made massive improvements, but he remains stubbornly nonverbal. Tom understands everything that is said in conversation but has no words to participate. He can say “yeah” and “no.” Over the past few years, this has elevated Mandy’s charade guessing skills to professional league.

“Was it a long time ago?” Mandy asks.

“Yeah!”

“Did it happen in Mexico?”

“No.”

“Was this in the water?”

“Yeah!”

The fact that Tom is able to communicate at all is amazing. But more amazing yet is that, through it all, Tom smiles.

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