I was lucky to grow up in a family of readers. Each of my parents came out of an immigrant family [Mom from Russia and Dad from Ukraine], and neither went past the 8th grade. Each left school [Mom in Glens Falls, N.Y.; Dad in New York City] to go to work, so they could help their families, but both of them loved books and reading and learning.
In the years that I and my two sisters were growing up, my father drove a delivery truck and my mother clerked in a department store. My mom also cooked great meals and made a cozy home for us. We moved around a bit from apartment to apartment, but one thing remained the same: every night, after supper and kitchen clean-up, my parents read, and so did my sisters and I. We had two bookcases in our apartment, one for our parents, one for us girls.
At that time, buying books was pretty much an adult privilege, so aside from presents from my aunts, my memories of finding books are entwined with libraries - my school library and the public library. It was a beautiful brick building set in a little green park, and I walked there once or twice a week and always left with a stack of books, which I began to read on the walk home. {Am I prejudiced or is it a fact that people who work in libraries are among the friendliest and most helpful you're ever going to meet?}
Aside from reading -and writing, of course- gardening is one of my great pleasures. I'm a perennial gardener, which means that my garden is constantly growing and changing. It's challenging, and I suppose that's one of the things I like about it. I can never be bored in the garden - or for that matter, as long as I have a book to read.
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When I was ten, I wanted to be a nurse on a cruise ship and have adventures. What these adventures might be, I had no idea, but from all my reading I was sure there were plenty of them in the world to go around and a few should surely come my way.
When I was eleven, I kept a diary in which I thought it was "swell" that I got 99 in a reading test and "swell" that my little sister and I went to the movies and "swell" that I passed my swimming test. I also wrote about a crush on my older sister's boyfriend and complained that she wouldn't let me have time alone with him. Years later, I wrote a story about this called Dear Bill, Remember Me? and then I wrote a seven or eight more stories and they all ended up in a book called Dear Bill, Remember Me? I once spoke in a school where a girl handed me a torn and tattered paperback copy of that book and told me that 39 people had read it. I asked her to write that in the book and sign her name, then I gave her a new copy, and she gave me the battered, signed copy, which I treasured then and treasure to this day.
When I turned twelve, my life changed. No, my family didn't break up, fall sick, or move. What happened took place entirely in my mind. I began to dream about being a writer someday. That was the key word. Someday. From then on, becoming a writer was my focus in life, but I never told anyone. I didn't know any writers, and it seemed like a pretty far out idea; after all, who was I to think I could write stories and publish books. I was just a young girl from a small town. So the thought -someday I'll be a writer was both a passionate desire and a secret.
I'm still passionate about writing [the secret part is long gone. Duh], and I expect that in this website, I'll be tempted to talk about writing, reading, words, language, poetry, stories - all things I love.
I'll start by giving you two poems that please me. Even if you're not a poetry reader, take a look. You might be surprised.
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| This is me, reading, about 6 years old |
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| That's my sister Adele smiling for the camera |
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| Taking notes already! |
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| As you can see from the pictures, I was reading from a pretty young age, and writing, too; that’s serious me, on the left with a little pencil and pad at about age six. I was surprised when I found this picture among piles of family photos, but I gotta say it pleased the hell out of me. [I always thought I got interested in writing only when I turned twelve.]
I also see that whatever I was reading, lying there on my stomach [looks like a comic book] was a lot more interesting to me than being photographed, which is pretty much the way I feel to this day. By the way, the older girl in the picture with the good smile for the camera is my beautiful older sister Adele. She's a great-grandma now, and still beautiful!
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