Little Molly and Thomas Jefferson

Okay, I have one more childhood writing sample. I wrote this when I was in elementary school...maybe 4th or 5th grade. It's undated. I don't remember the exact assignment but I guess it had something to do with researching a famous historical person. It might be the best thing I've ever written. I might have peaked creatively at the age of 10.

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“We will now move into the bedroom,” droned the tour guide.

She was a fast talker and I wasn’t done on my notes on the kitchen. You see, we’re at Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s home in Charlottesville, Virginia. I have a report due about Thomas Jefferson next week so I decided to come and see in person the great things Thomas Jefferson invented and owned. Well, even though I wasn’t done, I walked on. I was hoping to see Jefferson’s famous diaries.

On my way upstairs, I saw a statue of Jefferson. I stopped to look. The statue looked so real I thought I was actually looking into the eyes of the great architect, inventor, diplomat, and scholar. Then all of a sudden he winked. He paused, blinked, and spoke.

“Hello, my name is Thomas Jefferson.”

I said, “My name is Molly. Not to sound rude, but aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“Well, I was,” he explained, “but I happened to notice the trouble you were having with your tour guide. Talking too fast or something like that. Never could understand why they hired her. I have trouble understanding her myself.” He chuckled. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. Why don’t I lend you my assistance in telling you my life story. You seem like a nice girl. I’ll be glad to help you in any way that I can. Let’s talk over lunch.”

“Okay. McDonald’s or Burger King?” I said.

“McDonald’s? Burger King?” He looked puzzled. “I was thinking of lunch with the Governor or maybe introducing you to my friend Lafayette. He’s probably at the tavern by now.”

Suddenly it occurred to me that Jefferson might not know where he was.

“How long has it been since you died?” I asked.

“Why only a week or two,” he replied.

“Sorry Tom, more like almost two centuries. All of your friends are dead. Wait. Allow me to introduce you to the wonderful world of fast food.”

We walked in silence to McDonald’s but as we passed his tombstone he spoke. “Wait, let me read it.” He read it and nodded with approval. “I left a book with this in it for them to put on my tombstone. I see they did it.” Here’s what it said:

“Here was buried Thomas Jefferson
Author of the Declaration of American Independence
Of the Statute of Virginia for religious freedom
and Father of the University of Virginia.”

When we reached McDonald’s, Mr. Jefferson looked a bit afraid.

“What is it? A time traveler?” he asked.

“No, it’s a restaurant, and that’s a car and that’s a…” I went on pointing things out until that lost feeling left his face. Then I went in, ordered for us, and led him to a table.

“So when did you live? I mean like the years.” I asked.

“The years were from April 13, 1743 to July 4, 1826. I was 83.”

“What are you famous for?”

“Mostly for being the third president. I guess I worked a lot for religious freedom and fought for free schools for the poor. You already know that I founded the University of Virginia. Plus, I wrote the Declaration of Independence in just eighteen days. I had some time left over to invent things; doors that opened by themselves, little elevators to carry food, a clock that could run for seven days without being wound, and I grew things that people had never seen before. You know, if there was a machine where you could just punch in your topic, say Thomas Jefferson, and all the facts would flash up somehow, it would make life a lot easier.”

“We already have that,” I explained. “It’s called a computer.”

Suddenly a lady walked in asking the manager if he could turn the playground lights on.

“You know,” Thomas Jefferson remarked, “wouldn’t it be grand if there was something that you could turn stuff on without having to get up?”

“We have that,” I said. “It’s called a clapper.”

“Well then, you don’t need me anymore. I’m going back.” As he stood up to leave, he groaned. “I don’t feel too good.”

“You ate too many French fries. You see there’s a ton of fat in this.”

“Well then, why doesn’t somebody invent something to take fat out of fast food?”

“Bingo Mr. Jefferson. Let’s do it.”

All day we worked on the invention. At dinner time it was finally finished. We needed to see if it really worked. We went up, bought a Big Mac, and ran it through the machine. It worked! It was 100% healthy.

“Gosh,” I said in admiration, “you’re a great inventor.”

“Well, why don’t we go back to Monticello again,” he said.

This time I became so engrossed in the tour guide that when I looked around the room, he was gone; but the statue seemed to wink at me.

As I left the house, I reached into my pocket to protect my hands from the cold. As I reached in, I pulled out a note. On it was scrawled the writing of Thomas Jefferson: “Had to go. Many thanks. Good luck on the report and good luck in life. You’ll have a lot of healthy eating with the fat free machine.”

As I read the comment, only one thought was in my mind—Thomas Jefferson was one of the greatest people who ever touched this planet.