A Sparrow’s Tale: The Complete Edition

By Joseph R. Petrucelli

Meet Petronia, a typical grade-school daydreamer learning to appreciate what’s around her. She is a dreamer, and she loves to make wishes and blow on Dandelion Wishettes. She also loves to sing, play her recorder, and hang out with her best friend, Sunny. Petronia is a Sparrow, but she wants to be an Eagle. This is a struggle for her, but with the help of her friends and family, she can accomplish anything she puts her mind to. Readers will want to join along and sing and dance with the characters. Whether it’s Ms. Angela’s magical storytelling, Zany Uncle Miles’ unorthodox twitch dancing, or Grandma Sonata’s acronymic lessons about Forgetting Everything’s All Right. The antagonists of the story, Lars, Bellzie, Hashtag, and Knocker will put many obstacles in Petronia’s way, but they will be no match for Petronia and her fellow students at the Learning Tree Academy. Music and storytelling are two of the most powerful methods of communication.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Let’s Play Academy, Inc
• Release date: Jul 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733818438

Book preview

Petrucelli

Copyright © 2019 Joseph R. Petrucelli.

Interior Image Credit: Izzy Bean and Daniel Rosenblatt

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-7338184-2-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7338184-3-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019908336

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Publisher: Let’s Play Academy Inc.,

263 Main Street, Woodbridge, NJ 07095

Phone: [phone]

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date:  07/08/2019

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If you can Wishette, your dreams can come true!

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Preface

I wanted to develop a series of books that gets you to rely on your own thoughts and experiences. Petronia is a typical grade-school daydreamer. Like Petronia, I often find myself daydreaming. I believe all people, children and adults, learn best on their own terms and through life’s experiences. What better way to learn then to pursue and accomplish a dream.

That said, there is only one way to learn and accomplish a dream and that is to practice! When music lessons come in the form of a song, all members of the family can participate, relieving the isolation of practicing alone for hours like many of us have and continue to do. Music is the great equalizer. Regardless of size, age, or ability, anyone can achieve remarkable things with enough passion.

Each of the thirty-eight characters in this tale are unique. However, all of them—from Sunny, the musical brain, to KooKoo, the cymbal crashing maniac, all share a love of music and of family. Uncle Miles will teach you music in unorthodox and fun ways. Grandma Sonata, the organizing maestro, will bring to light the importance of family and of maintaining good core values. Ms. Angela, the caring teacher, will make you believe in fantasies whether young or old.

Max, Izzy, and Petronia will bring the brother-sister rivalry to life in a loving way. Lars and his Circle of Doom will have you on the edge of your seat. Poopster, Roach, Ant, and Spider will show you the meaning of friendship. Rasta, Boomer, Chuckles, E, Bogart, and others will make you laugh as they have fun with the music that is inside of them and in every one of us.

Like any Mom, Allegra will have you blowing on Dandelion Wishettes and help you to see that your wishes can come true. You simply have to make wishes, believe in yourself and live with A little Bit More, thinking. Benjamin the father is Ninety Nine percent committed to his family and one percent to himself. His actions will teach you the meaning of sacrifice and the love of family. One percent may not seem a lot for yourself, unless you make it count like Benjamin.

So, pour yourself a glass of milk, add some chocolate mix, start blowing bubbles in the glass, and join Petronia and me on a new path to learning about life, music, and remembering the importance of family.

Make a wish and have fun reading!

Joseph R. Petrucelli

Acknowledgments

Every vision begins with a dream. At first, everyone may think you’re a bit crazy, but with the loving support of a wife like Angela a book like this becomes a reality. She is Ms. Angela and Allegra all rolled up into one.

While I don’t have a Petronia, I have a Joey and Matt. They are my Petronias. Joey, your genuineness and focused commitment to getting the music perfect in your own way inspired T-Rex. Thank you for all your editing help and support.

Then there is Matt, my Sunny. Always in the background, always willing to take part in whatever role he casts, no matter how large or small. He taught me how important the supporting role is, in helping others achieve their dream. Without you, Uncle Miles twitch dances would be missing a twitch or two. To my Daughter-in-Law Jennifer, thanks for fulfilling my dream, as I now have a real Petronia of my own.

Aunt Connie, the English Maestro whose mastery of the English language amazes me. Thank you for all the time, effort and support not only with the book, but in growing up, you truly are my fairy Godmother.

Mike Andrew, what can I say. While there is a lot of old relationships and history in this acknowledgement its been fun creating new ones. It’s as if we have been friends long before this project. Your input, support and talent made this book and project come to life. Meet my Uncle Miles, Mr. Opus, and Grandma Sonata all rolled up into one.

Izzy, although you’re in the UK, and I am in the US and we’ve never met, the immediate connections we share prove that visions can be shared. Thank you for the wonderful illustrations that we’ve wound up with. They make what I have written jump off the page.

Timmy, what can I say, about my brother from another mother. Your support, love, friendship and commitment to family are off the grid. Your edits and funny comments help get through the ups and downs that come along with any project like this.

Charlie, your friendship, support, and big brother like stewardship, from editing to financial support, to simply being there to listen, made this a reality.

Mom, thank you for giving me life, values, and the understanding of family. To my brother Lenny, thanks for the sibling rivalries we have shared over the years and your continual love. To my Father and Mother-in-Law, Lenny and Rose, thank you for giving me my wife Angela and reminding me how important family is.

To my Dad, I miss you, but I know as long as you’re in my heart, you will always have something to do with the life I live. You’ll always be the ever-present Sparrow that seems to follow me around everywhere I go.

For all the great musicians, teachers (Lisa and Bruce), singers (Jen, Terrell and others), Kenny and whoever else I may have forgotten, thank you for your contributions to making a Sparrow Tale a reality.

To the staff at my firm, Dylan, Joe Z, Amanda and Carissa, thanks for all your support and encouragement. Without all of you this dream could never have become a reality!

BOOK ONE

Chapters 1-9

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CHAPTER 1

Angel Moments

As I look out my bedroom window on an early spring morning, I see Ms. Angela, the wise old owl, sitting at the bus stop below me, wearing her signature purple velvet robe with white trim, which gives her an air of royalty. Ms. Angela is my favorite teacher at the Learning Tree Academy. She has been there forever. She even taught my Mom when she was there!

Suddenly out of nowhere, I spot my Dad frantically racing toward Ms. Angela. He’s a sparrow, like everyone in my family, so it is easy to spot him. By the time he makes it to the bus stop, he is completely out of breath.

Benjamin Tone, what has you racing across the street like that, Ms. Angela asks. I could see the look of concern on her face as she kept saying to my Dad over and over again, Benjamin, just breathe.

Catching his breath, my Dad begins to explain how he had just left the grocery store down the street. He takes a breath. I was picking up bacon, eggs, milk, and bread for breakfast. Sounding completely cuckoo, he continues to explain how he had been rushing to get home before we all woke up. I was a few blocks away from my front door when the grocery bag ripped open. Everything tumbled down onto the sidewalk. I could see the anger and frustration on my Dad’s face. I could see his protruding heart beating through his chest as if he were Secretariat, the famous racehorse, on the last leg of the Belmont Stakes.

Like my Dad, I have an oversized heart, which becomes visible when I get excited or scared. Whenever I complain about the kids in the neighborhood teasing me about it, he reminds me that one of the reasons Secretariat was able to run so fast was because he too had an oversized heart that was over twice the size of other racehorses. My Dad also told me that because of Secretariat’s size and reddish-brown color he was nicknamed Big Red. Like Secretariat, all the people in our neighborhood have nicknames, whether they like it or not. I hope that if Secretariat was able to break so many records because of his oversized heart, maybe this enlarged heart of mine will help me become a great singer. Oh, how I hope I can become a rich and famous singer.

As my Dad continues to talk with Ms. Angela, I remember a recent conversation where he encouraged me to compete for the Nightingale Award, which is presented each year to a grade schooler for distinguished musical ability. I thought it was a little strange that he encouraged me, knowing I have no chance to win like he did. My Dad was the thirty-fourth recipient of the Nightingale Award in 1977, when he attended the Eagle Nest Academy. Every year since he won, it has gone to a student from Eagle Nest Academy. I know I don’t really have a chance unless I become an Eagle Nest student. I must get into that school, because as long as I am a Learning Tree kid, I will have no chance of winning.

The trophy at last year’s competition was magnificent, and the recipient was smiling ear to ear. I could only imagine how my Dad must have felt when they presented him with the prestigious award. Despite encouraging me, he has never once shown me his trophy, nor has he talked about that day, even though I am always asking.

I hear Dad speaking loudly, which snaps me out of my daydream. I look back at him, as he continued to talk to Ms. Angela. He is still out of breath and talking a mile a minute. I can hear him say, And I dropped the bags right by Dead Dream Alley. Mr. Joe used to take me there when I was younger. Whenever I would complain about my lessons or say I wasn’t good enough, he would take me there. Ms. Angela, I was standing there, complaining about the bags, and I was so upset that I started to convince myself that I would always be average, that I would always be a failure. But then, out of nowhere, Mr. Joe appeared. My Dad has this amazing look on his face.

Hearing Dad talk like that, I begin to think that he must be losing his mind. Mr. Joe passed away many years ago, so there is no way my Dad could have seen him. To think that my Dad is always criticizing me about my daydreaming episodes, and now he is dreaming up this angel story! Still, I am completely mesmerized by the way he is telling Ms. Angela about what just happened. He is like an excited little boy. As he continues, I notice he has a tear in his eye. My enlarged heart immediately filled with emotion, as I had never seen my Dad cry before. He is always so confident, telling me time and time again that anyone can succeed with a little more practice. He says to practice, practice, practice, even when you don’t seem to get it. Feeling my enlarged heart racing a mile a minute, I take Ms. Angela’s advice and just breathe.

Regaining my focus, I find myself watching my ever-confident father practically begging Ms. Angela to believe that he saw Mr. Joe. My Dad doesn’t realize how loud his voice has gotten as he recounts what Mr. Joe told him. I’m telling you, he was there. He told me, ‘Benjamin, you’re still that same kid Ms. Angela and I took under our wings. You’re still feeling sorry for yourself. A few shopping bags break and you’re ready to call it quits? What kind of example is that for your family? My Dad’s voice has gotten so loud that a neighbor from across the street asks if everything is alright.

My Dad, now in a complete state of panic, tells Ms. Angela, "Mr. Joe kept saying that the two of you didn’t spend all that time teaching me music only to have me give up on my dreams and wind up in Dead Dream Alley. Am I a quitter, Ms. Angela?"

I could hear my father shout over and over I am a quitter, as if he is Pavarotti, the great opera singer. His voice is droning, which I learned in Ms. Angela’s class is produced by emphasizing repeated sounds, notes, and tone clusters. Ms. Angela sometimes uses the same droning tone when telling a story to make us laugh. My father’s version has me feeling sad.

Dad says over and over that it was as if Mr. Joe knew every thought he was thinking. He asked me, ‘What have you created lately, Benjamin?’ He told me ‘Look at what’s in front of you, Benjamin. It’s not about what’s in your rearview mirror, but what is in front of you, it’s the future that you should be chasing. Stop looking at what you don’t have and be grateful for what you do have, Benjamin. Grow up and take care of Petronia and your family.’ My father explains to Ms. Angela that the last piece of advice Mr. Joe gave him was followed by crashing cymbals and then, Mr. Joe, vanished into thin air. Ms. Angela, did I really see him? he asks. My Dad is sobbing softly, which brings tears to my eyes.

Realizing my Dad is upset and confused, Ms. Angela, in a way only she could, soothes him like a Mom nurturing her young child. She pauses for a moment and in a soft, motherly voice, she says, "Calm down, Benjamin, calm down. You’re forgetting that everything’s all right. Breathe in, Benjamin, and breathe out. Ms. Angela gently strokes my Dad’s head, a gesture that appears familiar to him. Do you remember the song you and Mr. Joe used to sing to me?" she asks.

Yes, the Ms. Angela song, my Dad replies.

Benjamin, whenever you’re feeling down remember to… She begins to sing:

Make a silly face when you walk into the room.

Smile and giggle and laugh a little too.

Her hug will make you better when you feel a little blue.

Love is Ms. Angela’s cure for you.

Love is Ms. Angela’s cure for you.

In seconds, my Dad is smiling. Drawn in by Ms. Angela’s singing, I find myself smiling, too. The song is very familiar to me as we sing it in school too. My Dad, now calm, tells Ms. Angela how seeing Mr. Joe brought to mind all the stories he had told him when he was a child growing up in the neighborhood. I felt like I had forgotten about who I was and what it felt like to be a young dreamer from the Lower East Side. He pauses for a second and looks down at the ground. I miss Mr. Joe.

So do I, Ms. Angela says, so do I. The two of them hug.

My Dad never talks about Mr. Joe with me, but everyone in the neighborhood has told me stories about how he always knew which buttons to push to get my Dad to do a little bit more, especially when it came to music. Everyone says Mr. Joe treated my Dad as if he were his own son. Whenever anyone, including me, asks him about Mr. Joe, my Dad becomes sad and quickly changes the subject.

My Uncle Miles once told me Mr. Joe and Ms. Angela took a special interest in my Dad when his parents died in an accident when he was very young. My Dad rarely talks about his parents either. After the accident, he was sent to live with his godmother, Aunt Connie, his Mom’s sister. Aunt Connie often had to leave Dad with Mr. Joe and Ms. Angela when she had to work late in order to support the two of them. She helped my Dad improve his writing skills, which was probably one of the reasons he was able to write such beautiful songs in his youth, something that is hard for me to believe, since he never once wrote a song that I am aware of. Uncle Miles said Aunt Connie was an amazing English teacher and that she made Dad write for two minutes every morning about the first thought that entered his mind, telling him to use all of his senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. This exercise gets the creative juices flowing, Uncle Miles told me. My Uncle once told me how he had written about a lint ball and how it inspired a new guitar riff. Only my crazy Uncle could find a relationship between a guitar riff and a lint ball.

At school, Ms. Angela once assigned us homework similar to the exercise Uncle Miles described. Every morning for a week I had to write for two minutes about the first thought that entered my mind when I woke up. Aunt Connie must have given Ms. Angela this idea. Ms. Angela called this exercise objective writing, and I still do it every day. This morning I wrote about dandelions, since a floret flew onto my bed, reminding me about them. Uncle Miles and Grandma Sonata also do this exercise every day, and both of them say, Feeling what you write is no different from feeling what you sing or play. My Uncle, as usual, did something unorthodox with his writing. He wrote about a piece of sponge that he found on the floor, and it was amazing how he began whaling on the guitar, making these squeezing guitar sounds. See Petronia, he said, It works! The sponge helped me create that.

Uncle Miles said that my Dad, just like him, would find the darndest things to write about. Petronia, he says, your Dad had quite a vivid imagination when he was young. He goes on to describe a crazy fantasy story my Dad had written, something about spaceships and aliens. I was surprised to hear that. I see Dad always writing, but it’s usually for work, and I doubt he’s using any of his creative senses while doing people’s taxes.

Uncle Miles believed that my Dad lost the imagination he once had, when he lost Mr. Joe and Aunt Connie within a short period of time. He sounded very sad when he explained this to me. He said all of that took a toll on my Dad and his spirit. Music seemed much less important to him, and his focus was solely on his job as an accountant. It was surprising that my Uncle would care so much about my Dad,