As a child, I absolutely adored Pippi Longstocking. She was red-headed, independent and strong, fearless, self-possessed, and rich. Everything I aspired to be! Plus her dad was a pirate. Does it get any better than that? I doubt it. The very first time I saw her she was sitting in a stairwell rolling mismatched stockings up her skinny little legs and I thought “what a strange looking little girl.” She looked quite peculiar, indeed. And as the show went on I learned that she lived free and alone in a big, charming house called Villa Villekulla, could stay up as late as she wanted, could do whatever she wanted, owned a suitcase full of gold doubloons, was unimpressed with anyone who underestimated her or tried to limit her, and every day was one big adventure for her and her friends, Annika and Tommy. Pippi became my childhood hero. She grabbed a hold of me back in the early 80s and never truly let me go. Although hero’s come and go and little girls grow up to change their minds, I think subconsciously I’ve always wanted to be a little like Pippy Longstocking.
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