A Comforting Visit From My Childhood

Books have always been friends for me. I was fortunate enough to grow up in an environment that fostered this love from the beginning. With the notable exception, however, of taking The Bastard to school without a brown paper bag as a cover. After all, no good girl would say such a word. And what, my mother worried, would people think about me reading a book with that word as its title? I did eventually win the battle and completed the entire Kent Family Chronicles in no time flat.

I inhaled books, sucking the marrow from their bones and spitting out the carcass.

From an earlier time in my life, though, one author holds a special place in my heart. Judy Blume. Many ignorant people who likely (1) haven't even taken the time to read her books or (2) don't even remember how confusing adolescence can be have tried through the years to ban her books from libraries. I read and re-read her books as a child.

Peter, Margaret, Sheila, Linda "Blubber", Davey. They all gave me an understanding that I was not alone in the feelings, the questions, the emotions that I had. A few days ago, I found a book that let me know, once again, just how much of a sorority Blume devotees are. If you loved Judy Blume books, or if you love someone who loved Judy Blume books, get thee to a bookstore and BUY THIS BOOK! You'll thank me. Really.