If the shoes were so splendorous, how could I not have memorialized them in film? I had my camera, yes? If it failed me, was my phone not in my pocket? Could it not have been used - easily, with alacrity - to document the footwear's greatness?
I hesitate to say my girls doubted the truthfulness of their father, but perhaps they began to lean towards the camp of those who suggest I am prone to exaggeration.
Lies! All lies!
Anyway - after recounting my daughter's disappointment in that earlier posting, I included a plea to Mr. Selznick. Asking (beseeching?) that if he, you know, wasn't busy flying to Rome for the premier of the film adaptation of his Caldecott-winning Invention of Hugo Cabret, maybe he could, um, take a picture of his shoes. If there wasn't anything else on his soon-to-be-spaghetti-filled plate.
When in Rome, and all that.
I was kidding, kind of. But I did mention that Charisse, Scholastic's Executive Director of Publicity - who was good enough to join us in Alameda for our Wonderstruck night - I did perhaps hint that Ms. Charisse knew where to find me.
I digress. And for that - not for exaggeration, mind you, but for digression? - yes, I will admit that sometimes I digress. Because all I wanted to say was this: not 24 hours after my entreaty was thrown to the wind, I received a response from Ms. Charisse.
So, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And in my house, he goes by the name of jolly old Selznick.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you his Very Amazing Shoes:
I thank you, Ms. Charisse, and I thank you, Mr. Brian. But more importantly, Daughter Number One and Daughter Number Two thank you both. We all hope Rome was a holiday.