This post is part of my ongoing series of my memories for my children to read if they ever want to. I'm Lori. Some of these have been published elsewhere previously, but I thought while I was doing this, I'd also bring the stories together in one place.
I’d sit in my little wooden desk, with that attached chair that was also wood and seemed to cause more squirming than not, fiddling with the pencil box tucked safely into the slot under the desk, wondering if I’d ever be so lucky to get a big box of crayons with 64 different colors with that cool crayon sharpener in the back instead of the paltry 32 crayons I currently had.
I’d wait with barely contained anticipation for the teacher to hand out the book order form. I’d greedily grab the flyer from the teacher and begin to pour over all sorts of glorious books that I had to narrow down to two or three. If things were going well, sometimes I got as many as five. Once I turned in the order, I’d daydream about receiving a stack one day in the not too distant future and how I’d run my hand along the smooth covers and smell the new book smell with heady abandon. They cost in the 50-cent range back then, as I recall. Fifty cents would buy ten bottles of pop from the pop machine at Bob’s Rainbow Groceryland near my house. It was a lot of money.
There were a few books from back then that stood out in my mind, all of which I have—one I ran across the other day. Of course, my kids were never interested in them, despite the fact I saved them for them to enjoy. They are too old-fashioned.
3rd Grade: Nellie Bly, Reporter, by Nina Brown Baker. The intrepid girl reporter from the late 1800s, Nellie wasn’t like the other girls. This book, which I picked up last night and started reading, is a clearly feminist look at the life of Bly. Through sheer moxie, she broke into a business that hard-edged, cynical men had held title to forever. And made a difference standing up for the downtrodden masses. The message was: Chicks rock! Girls can do anything! Very different from most of the messages I received when young through most literature and television where June Cleaver was still the epitome of the American woman.
4th Grade: Harriet the Spy, by Louise Fitzhugh. Ah, well, I was going to be Harriet. From that point on, I decided observing people was for me. I’d jump on my bike and ride the 1.5 miles downtown and go into Cole’s Cafe near the library on Main Street and order a grilled cheese and coke. I’d sit with my back to the majority of the patrons and open my ears. I’d listen to them talking, try to figure out their stories, then write it down. I’d describe what I thought they looked like based on my surmises.
6th Grade: Rifles for Waitie, by Harold Keith. Well, I didn’t read this one on my own, but I bought it and have read it since. My 6th grade male teacher, Mr. Staack, a big bear-sized young man with a balding head and a giant bushy beard, read it to us every day during reading time. It was, to me, as epic as The Odyssey. The 16-year-old-boy, full of testosterone and chutzpah, heads out to fight on the side of the North during the Civil War and spends the next four years learning about horror, honor, death, betrayal, friendship, and justice.
7th Grade: Captain Blood, by Rafael Sabatini. When I saw the 1935 Errol Flynn movie, I fell in love with his character. The book was far, far more exciting, but it was nice to put Flynn’s face into my mind’s eye while reading it—he was so pretty. I never wanted to be Olivia deHavilland, I wanted to be Flynn. The message: Even when injustice is the call for the day (or week, months, years), you can still live honorably, even as a pirate! I heart good pirates. Sabatini also wrote the exciting adventure, Scaramouche.
So, what books rocked your world when you were a kid?
Copyright 2011 Lori Hahn
