Viral Emails

The Wemmicks were small wooden people carved by a woodmaker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village.

Every Wemmicks was different. But all day, everyday,the Wemmicks did the same thing: they gave each other stickers.

Each Wemmicks had a box each of golden star stickers and gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets, people could be seen sticking stars or dots on one another. The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. The talented ones got stars too. Some knew big words or could sing very pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.

But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmick gave dots. Others could do little. They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. The others would gather around and gave him dots. Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots. He would try to explain why he fell and say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him still more dots.

After a while, he had so many dots that he didn’t want to go outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb, and that people would give him another dot.

“He deserves lots of dots,” the wooden people would agree with one another. “He’s not a good wooden person.”

After a while, Punchinello believed them. “I’m not a good Wemmick,” he would say. The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots. He felt better around them.

One day, he met Lulia, a Wemmick who was unlike any he’d ever met - she had no dots or stars. Some admired Lulia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn’t stick either.

That’s the way I want to be,thought Punchinello. I don’t want anyone’s marks. So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it.

“It’s easy,” Lulia replied, “every day I go see Eli.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He’s there.”

Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars or dots. “It’s not right,” he nuttered to himself. He resolved to go see Eli.

“Punchinello?” the voice was deep and strong. “Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you.” Eli stopped down and picked him up and set him on the bench.

Punchinello look at the large bearded craftsman. “You know my name?” the little Wemmick asked.

“Of course I do. I made you.” Eli inspected the gray circles. “Looks like you’ve been given some bad marks.”

“I didn’t mean to. I really tried hard.”

“Oh, you don’t have to defend yourself to me, child. I don’t care what the other Wemmicks think.”

“You don’t?”

“No, and you shouldn’t either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They’re Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn’t matter. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special.”

Punchinello laughed. “Me special? Why? I can’t walk fast. I can’t jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?”

Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. “Because you’re mine. That’s why you matter to me.”

Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this - much less his maker. He didn’t know what to say. “Every day I’ve been hoping you’d come,” Eli explained.

“I came because I met someone who had no marks.”

“I know. She told me about you.”

“Why don’t the stickers stay on her?”

“Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them.”

“What?”

“The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You will, but it take time. You’ve got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me everyday and let me remind you how much I care.” Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground.

“Remember,” Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door, “you are special because I made you. And I don’t make mistakes.”

Punchinello, in his heart, thought, I think he really means it. And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.