Ghosts of Easters Past

Easter always reminds me of Prague; my first visit back after leaving was in 2003, when I escaped Lisbon for a long weekend of frolicking at the Easter markets and seeing friends. And the Easters of my childhood; Mom created a beautiful set of cloth-covered plastic eggs, which the elusive Bunny hid throughout the house with treats inside. And I'd get a new dress and maybe even new shoes. Happy Easter, wherever you are, and happy spring.

As I fell victim to a horrible flu bug on Wednesday I found myself having a little cry about the end of the Gatsby house. Gatsby is one of those books that I read every year with more and more delight, and this house is exactly what I had in my mind when reading it for the first time, when I was 14. I'm a little heartbroken that I will never be able to see it.

Of course, then the yang burst onto the scene, and I saw that Beverly Cleary turned 95 last week. Cleary was my first author obsession, even before Judy Blume. I tore through every Ramona book and could probably still recite Ramona Quimby, Age 8, which I read dozens of times. I am so grateful to her stories for encouraging my reading, and even more grateful to my mom. Spending the day at a library or at the bookstore was a common weekend activity. Or even weeknight activity - the B. Dalton in the mall didn't shut til 9pm and I remember closing that store down frequently. I'd have to choose two from my pile of books, and it was just so difficult. Ramona Quimby, Age 8 was one of those books, the last purchase of the day, and I stayed up all night reading it.

So my final sick day was spent reminiscing about my favorite choldhood books - Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume, Laura Ingalls Wilder, the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and of course the Choose Your Own Adventure books. I still sometimes look at big life choices as a 'CYOA' book: what will be the consequence?

Happy belated birthday, Beverly Cleary. What childhood books still lurk in your minds?