Raise your hand if you've ever seen You've Got Mail. Yeah, me too. Lots of times, in fact. (That kiss at the end is one of my favorite all-time cinema kisses.) So raise your hand if you've read Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild. I never did until now. Always curious about the books Meg Ryan's character recommends to the customer in the mega-bookstore but did not get any of them on my list of second childhood books. And they must've been around the local library, Ballet Shoes having been first published in 1937. I enjoyed the tale of Pauline, Petrova, and Posy Fossil but the novel fell a little short of other classics like The Little Princess and The Secret Garden. There are more in the series available in paperback. Yes, it's likely I'll pick them up too. I mean--what happens to the girls as their futures unfold? (I almost put some spoilers in there. Shame on me!)
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Every so often—and I wish it were
more often—I discover a book like Frederick
by Leo Lionni. Why didn’t I ever read this to my children? Will my
grandchildren appreciate it? Proves that sometimes it’s a good thing, a
heartwarming thing to be a poet. Yea, Frederick!
Then there is Munro Leaf’s Ferdinand. Let me tell you, I loved Ferdinand as a little girl, everything
from the flowers on the cover to the intricate black-and-white illustrations. I
read Ferdinand to my children and I
know I’ve read it to my oldest grandson. I think I need to buy this one for my
youngest grandson now. Being 65 years old I was pretty young when we got a
television set but radio was a huge part of my growing up and of my memories.
There was programming just for children and somewhere I remember hearing
stories being read. So Dear to My Heart
is one, Song of the South another…and
Ferdinand. That’s what I remember—I
wonder if I’m remembering correctly. Anyway, sometime, somewhere I heard Ferdinand read aloud, on radio or
television. I paid even more attention this reading to Robert Lawson’s
drawings. Oh, my! I love the buzzards perched in so many of them, just
observing what’s going on. The startled look on Ferdinand’s face when the
bumblebee stings him in the butt is priceless, and memorable from my original
readings. I’d forgotten, however, the growth chart for the bull. And the big
bell around Ferdinand’s mother’s neck which says “MOTHER.” A classic book, no
doubt.
I guess I’ll never change my opinion: Little Golden Books are just the epitome of childhood. I might pine for my paper dolls and a couple of my dolls, but at least I still have Little Golden Books. The Classics series really speaks to me too. Did I read The Kitten Who Thought He Was a Mouse as a little girl? Don’t know but I would’ve liked it then if I had. Even though I didn’t have cats—or mice—when I was little.
My, oh, my, but the Betsy-Tacy
books are funny and sad at the same time. Poor Tacy contracted diphtheria (a
sign of the times) and was quarantined for a long period of time. That made
Betsy, the imaginative one, fearful that one of the good friends might die and
they all three needed something to remind themselves of each other forever. Her
idea? To carry locks of each other’s hair in lockets made out of pill boxes.
Which resulted in five of Tacy’s ten long, red sausage ringlets getting cut off
and half of Tib’s yellow curls and one of Betsy’s brown pigtails. Just like
their mothers I laughed and cried.
I wonder which of my friends owned
Pat the Bunny. I’m quite sure I
didn’t, but I’m also sure I read it long before my children did. Paul and Judy
visiting that farm—with the soft bunny and the ring to “put on” and the mirror
to look into. Definitely the forerunner to all the lift-the-flap, pop-up,
touch-and-feel books that fill so much space on bookstore shelves these days.
Alas, all not available as e-books.
One thing that nudged me into
doing this project was getting a NOOK, but I chose to buy the first six Nancy
Drew books as hardcovers. Who knows how people will be reading books in 10 or
12 years. Surely black ink on paper won’t be completely antiquated. And I did
want to have Nancy Drew available for my granddaughter, even if she only reads
them as a quaint look at the past. For me, it’s great fun to relive those
adventures of the “girl” detective in the convertible. Number one, The Secret of the Old Clock, is re-read.
Good times.
On the back cover of this Little
Golden Book Classic, Diane Muldrow, Editor, is quoted: “Each of us remembers
our own favorite Little Golden Book.” Yes, I do—and I will eventually add that
particular one to this list. For now, A
Day at the Seashore, was a “blast from the past,” as the silly saying goes.
Sunsuits—and I was immediately taken back to days of sunsuits. Particularly a
blue-and-white checked one I loved.
As much as I dislike Goodnight Moon, I sure do read a lot of
books by Margaret Wise Brown. Big Red
Barn fails for all the reasons I’ve found in her other books but it is
charming in its simplicity and the animals alone. What little kid doesn’t like
a book where you can point out your favorite farm animals?
