A Ferris Kind of Friend
“Every good story is a love story.” —Kate DiCamillo
One long-standing joy in my life is a love of children’s literature. Though I enjoyed it as a child, I’d say my interest grew much more as a mother. When my girls outgrew the “go to the library and pick out some books” phase, I decided I needed to intentionally give myself permission to continue to check out children’s books— for me.
One paragraph into this post, I’ve decided I clearly will write more about this, so I’ll spare you a listing of some of my favorites. But hands down, one of the authors I enjoy most is Kate DiCamillo. Her characters are spunky, hilarious, relatable in their human blunders, and seem to deliver tender, potent one-line zingers that cut straight to my heart. My most recent read of hers did not disappoint!
Ferris is a newer book she released in 2024. Ferris is a precocious 10 year old with a sister determined to become an outlaw, a grandma who is dying, and a best friend, Billy Jackson, who has known a lot of loss in his young life. Ferris and Billy have some very grown up conversations for 5th graders. The story is as much about how these friends make sense of grief, as it is designed to make you giggle.
I happened to be on a plane flight last Fall while I was reading this book. During my trip I’d done a lot of reflecting and my heart was just-enough slowed-down. This doesn’t come naturally for me. I came to a part of the story where Ferris and Billy are sitting on the roof, and Billy begins to open up about the loss of his mom.
“Do you ever think about your mother?” Ferris said to Billy Jackson. And then she was ashamed that she had never thought to ask him the question before.
Billy said, “It’s not that I think about her. It’s more like she’s always with me.” He was quiet. Ferris waited. Even when they weren’t talking about something big and important, Billy Jackson took a long time between sentences…
Ferris had learned to wait.”
This may seem like a simple, ordinary phrase. But for some reason, as I read those words, my heart cracked open and I started to cry. I cried thinking about the losses the story was touching on inside of me; I cried for how hard it feels to slow down as Ferris was learning to do; I cried relating to Billy as one who needs time to locate the words to say the deep things, (much less decide if they will come out of my mouth); I cried for the beauty of a friend who knew him that well, and the longing of it all; I cried with thankfulness that for the moment, my heart was quiet enough to listen well.
Right then and there, I drafted a letter to Kate. Did I think I would actually send it? Of course not. (It’s just that when I read a story, I imagine a parallel dialogue with its author.) I’ll share a snippet with you.
Dear Kate,
I’ve just finished reading your new story, Ferris, and I love the way you tell this love story. It has opened up something inside of me. Something broke when I read, “Ferris had learned to wait.” Something about her tender gesture, knowing her young friend so well, who was expressing something so tender about his loss. I keep tearing up but I happen to be on a plane so it’s rather inconvenient to be feeling right now… but you just can’t know when the faucet is going to turn on. (As you said, “Who indeed can explain the human heart?”) But it has needed to, and so I’m grateful.
I’ve just chosen one tiny part of this lovely little work to write about. I hope you have a chance to read it, slowly.
May we each have a friend like Ferris, who can give you all the time and space needed to find the right words, and linger with not a hint of hurry, even if you can’t. And, may we be that friend too.
