I was feeling sad and on my way to the serious books by depressed writers section of the Fremont Library when an old friend visually ambushed me, an author I once loved.
Could I love him again?  It took only four lines.

The Anteater
“A genuine anteater,”
The pet man told my dad.
Turned out, it was an aunt eater,
And now my uncle’s mad!

Macabre, weirdly infectious, reading Shel Silverstein is like taking a shower in edible confetti. Pretty soon, you just have to throw your head back and open your mouth.

After half an hour, I still wasn’t cheerful, but I wasn’t nearly as sad and thinking pleasantly about dinner—less pleasantly about rain.

Rain
I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain…

During his career, Silverstein, “Uncle Shelby” to his fans, wore an astonishing number of hats, often simultaneously. He was a poet, songwriter, musician, composer, cartoonist, screenwriter, and author of children’s books. He won a Grammy for the music and lyrics for “A Boy Named Sue,” performed by Johnny Cash, penned hits for Loretta Lynn, and a song called “The Unicorn,” still sung in Irish pubs the world over.

He created a rap version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

An Adult Evening of Shel Silverstein opened in New York City in 2001 and included a sketch titled “The Lifeboat is Sinking.” Two siblings play a game of Who-Would-You-Save—if their family was drowning.

“I think if you’re a creative person, you should go about your business; do your work and not care about how it’s received,” Silverstein said in an early interview with Publisher’s Weekly. “I never read reviews because if you believe the good ones, you have to believe the bad ones.”

One of Silverstein’s books, according to reviewer Otto Penzer, “showed the kind of staying power on the New York Times chart that most of the biggest names (John Grisham, Stephen King, and Michael Crichton) have never equaled […].” A Light in the Attic was on the list for two years.

Of course, this Renaissance man was most well known for his children’s books, such modern classics as The Lion Who Shot Back, Where the Sidewalk Ends, and Falling Up.

In Uncle Shelby’s World, a boy turns into a TV set, a polar bear gets stuck in a Frigidaire, someone steals knees, puts a brassiere on a camel, sends a crocodile to the dentist. Ever a champion for misfits, one of the poet’s poems features a boy mercilessly teased for having long hair. His hair magically transforms into wings so he can fly away from his tormentors.

The other day in the library, Silverstein’s poetry let me know that I am not the only one who has bad habits, makes dumb mistakes, and ends up in acutely uncomfortable positions.

One child fan wrote: “His poems [are] different than most poets like Robert Frost. He doesn’t use fancy words like ‘twas’ or ‘tis.’ He makes it possible […] to actually read his poems.”

Next time you’re heading for the serious books by depressed writers section, think again.