The One and Only Family

Once again, I'm reminded that it's possible to be happy and sad, worried and hopeful, confused and certain, all at the same time. Especially when you love someone dearly.

Stories help us ready ourselves. For joy, for sorrow, for growth. They teach us empathy. They let us practice being better humans. Sadly battles over children's access to books have increasingly put librarians and teachers on the front lines. But in the end, locking up books always fails because words have wings. Stories, as Ivan comes to realize, have a way of taking flight one way or another....as long as we have free libraries and dedicated teachers, loving parents, and curious children, I know we'll be okay.

I wonder if everyone carries the weight of secret sadness with them. Perhaps if it weren't a secret, it wouldn't be such a burden.

I have my story. The twins will have theirs. Stories, it seems to me, are living things. Once you set them free, they're like offspring. They have destinies of their own. They're no longer your responsibility. They belong to the world.

How is it possible that sharing your heart with little ones can be both the most terrifying and the most beautiful thing in the world?

It’s been a long time now since she passed away. You’d think the missing would end. But it doesn’t. It just softens around the edges. Instead of a hurting place to avoid, it becomes a healing place to seek out.

You don't have to give birth to care for little ones. You just have to do your best to love them.

Humans do many things poorly. Making music is not one of them.

It's been a long time now since she passed away. You'd think the missing would end. But it doesn't. It just softens around the edges.

When time tells a story, surprises are the one thing you can count on.

Whatever your species, there's no force of nature more terrifying than a toddler tantrum.

I knew I was in trouble. But then I remembered the go-to answer that has saved countless dads since the beginning of time.

Whatever your species, there’s no force of nature more terrifying than a toddler tantrum.

wonder if everyone carries the weight of secret sadness with them. Perhaps if it weren’t secret, it wouldn’t be such a burden.

Are they jealous of my strength, so much greater than theirs?of my fur, while they shiver in the silly clothing meant to hide their hairlessness? Do they long to be wild, the way I was once, long ago, wild?

One thing I've noticed about caring for little ones: you've got to get used to having wildly different feelings at the same time. Each new day with youngsters is like a frenzied drawing, one that uses every single color in the crayon box.

The older I get, the more miracles I seem to notice.

What brought us together? I sometimes wonder. Was it chance? Fate? Luck? I often marvel at the randomness of it all, the tangled threads that wove us into something stronger than our individual selves. That a time so dark could provide such light is a miracle, I think.

I've heard more than a few gorillas call windows "gas glass, " because humans are known to be...how shall I put this? A bit ripe-smelling.

Sometimes when the world gets stormy, the sameness of everyday life can feel like a life raft.

It's a special kind of joy, feeling happy for a friend.

Imagine the endless delight, watching two little gorillas explore their world! The fun! The thrill! The parental joy! Imagine the terror of twin tantrums! The chaos! The noise! The parental exhaustion!

That putrid rag was my best friend once upon a time,” I said. Kinyani nudged my nose. “I know,” she said softly, gently, and I suppose she could see the pain in my eyes. “I know, Ivan.

Wise, gentle Stella, an old circus elephant who’d been born in the wild. Ruby, a sweet baby elephant snatched from Africa and shipped overseas, just like my sister and me. Julia, a kindhearted girl who understood our plight. And, of course, the one and only Bob, who slipped into my cage one night and decided that my tummy would make the perfect dog bed.

You may have noticed that I am a gorilla. Western lowland, in case you’re curious. I’m the resident silverback here at Wildworld Zoological Park and Sanctuary. (Around here, we just call it “the park.”)