Just Rewards in Maine
We were lost. Driving down back roads and unfamiliar streets in a small town in Maine when my cell phone rang just as my GPS was issuing a direction. I cursed but answered the call coming from an unfamiliar cell, out of habit mainly. Not many have my cell number, so when it rings I answer out of fear, caution, curiosity and some combination of all.
The woman’s voice on the other end asked kindly, “Can I speak to James Ransome?” She was mistakenly given my number instead of his, we quickly realized so I put my phone on speaker and James, who was driving, aimlessly GPS-less now, chimed in.
“Hello, this is James…”
“James, we are calling from the ALA Youth Media Awards Committee…”
The rest, as they say, is a blur.
We continued now following blindly down road after road, knowing we were becoming more hopelessly lost with each passing minute the caller spoke but thoughts of reaching our destination were now the furthest thing from our minds.
“We are so happy to tell you that you are this year’s winner of the Children’s Literature Legacy Award…” We screamed. I cried. And when the call ended, we both asked each other, What. Just. Happened?
I went to the Youth Media Awards site and read aloud the description… “... honors an author or illustrator whose books, published in the United States, have made, over a period of years, a substantial and lasting contribution to children's literature through books that demonstrate integrity and respect for all children's lives and experiences…”
And then I read the list of previous recipients “…Tomie DePaolo, Eric Carle, E.B. White, Mildred Taylor, Jerry Pinkney, Dr. Seuss?”
And I cried some more. I thought back to James in college at Pratt Institutein Brooklyn, New York. When we first began dating during our sophomore year, he was the only one I knew who spent more hours in his dorm room working on assignments than going to parties. When we graduated, he worked weekends only so that his weekdays could be spent dropping off his portfolio to art directors, until finally, gratefully, he got one assignment, and then another. And one day, an art director invited him for a chat. It was Richard Jackson of Orchard Books who took a chance and offered a newbie illustrator a shot at illustrating his very first picture book entitled Do Like Kyla, written by Angela Johnson. Thirty-three years later, and Do Like Kyla is still in print. He illustrated five more books before he felt confident enough to leave his part-time job and become a full-time illustrator. He worked seven days a week, a schedule he still keeps.
Other books immediately followed, some awards followed those. But more importantly than any number, any award, was the way he viewed the work of visual storytelling. The art of telling stories for young readers. His illustrations captured the beauty, humanity of black life from the distant past to the present. You could see yourself, your family, heart and soul, in his work.
We found our way to our destination and our waiting hosts in Maine nearly thirty minutes late, breathless and overwhelmed and still floating from the news. The next day when the awards were officially announced, James had a chance to experience the real time joy all over again. For me, I feel like I have been his co-navigator in much of his journey, watching him get lost, and found again, continuing happily on his way to destinations unknown.
