You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
Throughout the book, the narrator praises the boy’s freedom to shape his own path. With the phrase, “You have brains in your head / You have feet in your shoes,” the narrator asserts that the boy has everything he needs to succeed: his “brains in [his] head,” and his “feet in [his] shoes.” As a central symbol of the boy’s intelligence, his brain grants him the basic ability to think and make his own decisions. As a symbol of mobility, the boy's feet enable him to move forward and navigate the various streets and destinations in his journey. In other words, according to the narrator, the boy doesn’t need to have any exceptional skills or special talents to go wherever he wants to go and pursue fulfilling opportunities.
It’s opener there
in the wide open air.
Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.
After the boy leaves his safe, albeit dull and uninspiring, hometown, he comes across a strange, open patch of “wide open air.” The narrator contrasts the two settings, characterizing the new land as “opener” than the town. The town is full of imposing, upright, and uniform buildings and streets that point to a clear, predictable path, while the patch of land endlessly expands into the horizon and is free of streets altogether. As such, the vast openness of the land represents the endless opportunities the boy can now follow and explore. By venturing out of a familiar space and into a new one, the boy is now free to take risks, find his interests, endure challenges, and discover his resilience on his own terms. The boy’s transition to the wide-open area thus foregrounds the themes of autonomy and open-ended exploration.
All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you’ll be quite a lot.
Here, the narrator acknowledges the boy’s solitude as he faces another setback: the ominous archway guarded by the dark, leering creatures with piercing green eyes. By claiming that the boy will frequently be alone “whether [he] like[s] it or not,” the narrator affirms solitude as an essential principle or simple fact of life—during joyous and adverse periods alike. As we see here, the boy will inevitably find himself alone, without others' support, in overcoming challenges. While this frank solitude may seem like a disadvantage, it actually creates an opportunity for him to identify his strengths, problem-solve his way out of the challenging situation, and cultivate his self-sufficiency.
You’ll come down from your lurch
with an unpleasant bump,
And chances are, then,
that you’ll be in a Slump.
And when you’re in a Sump,
You’re not in for much fun.
After the boy suddenly crashes his hot-air balloon into a tree, his bright, whimsical surroundings are replaced by huge boulders and a grim, dark sky. The narrator deems this new stage in the boy’s journey as a “Slump,” an abrupt disruption or failure characterized by fear and helplessness. By describing the boy’s “Slump” as “unpleasant” and not “much fun,” the narrator nonchalantly acknowledges the reality of the boy’s sudden undoing of his success: it is difficult and burdensome.
Indeed, the narrator’s tone here is casual and forthright, devoid of any descriptions that inaccurately skew the “Slump” as a positive or joyous period in the boy’s journey. The narrator’s objective, forthright characterization of the “Slump” thereby illustrates and normalizes the inevitability of failure in our lives. We are bound to feel defeated, regardless of our previous accomplishments. If we simply anticipate Slumps and accept them for what they are—“unpleasant”—we are much more likely to prevail over them.
So…
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali van Allen O’Shea
you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So… get on your way!
By listing off several names in the celebratory final stanza of the book, the narrator evokes the universality of the boy’s journey—no matter our name, age, or upbringing, each and every one of us has the autonomy and power to find “Great Places” in our lives. Critically, the narrator does not specify which “Great Places” lie ahead, or what “mountain” is “waiting” for us. The narrator’s ambiguity in describing potential triumphs and opportunities encourages us to project our own narratives and objectives into the text.
In other words, everyone’s path is different, and we all have different ideas of a “Great Place,” be it reaching a career milestone, building a family, forming a new friendship, or acing a test. By refusing to define “Great Places” within a single or narrow framework, the narrator celebrates the infinite directions a single individual may take with their life. As long as we mindfully explore our options—“get on [our] way”—we are destined to accomplish great things and meet our future goals.
