We participated in a fund raiser at a local restaurant tonight, where 20 percent of our purchase will be used toward building a library in my tiny hometown.
I remember growing up a reader -- not an intellectual, understand, just a reader -- and living for the Bookmobile's annual visit at the beginning of the summer. The 15 miles to the county seat and that city's library seemed a lot further then than now, so we never made that trip. Instead, the Bookmobile brought my precious dozen books to me every summer. Most of them were read by the end of the first week, though, and out came the Reader's Digest Condensed Books that lined my parents' shelves.
(Did you know that Beth actually dies in the second half of "Little Women?" Me too, now. Nothing crueler than to give a child hope by letting her read the Condensed Classic, in which Beth beats the fever...the end.)
All I need to know about burlesque I learned from Gypsy Rose Lee's "The G-String Murders." Out of respect for my parents, who clearly never read this work before putting it on their shelves for little eyes to see, I will not elaborate. Suffice it to say that if a woman chooses to have breast enhancement these days, she doesn't have to worry as much about sitting too near a heater.
So the fundraiser food was tasty, a good time was had by all, funds were raised and I ran into my high school journalism teacher. She was not surprised to learn that I had spent most of my career writing sports before turning to full-time motherhood for my work. She said I was "brave" to homeschool. Funny, I thought she was brave to try and teach 150 teenagers a day.
I guess it's all relative.
