Picking up a book to read for leisure was a difficult thing for me to do. See, the last time I read a book for fun must have been the fourth Harry Potter Book... six years ago! School tended to overcrowd my time with textbooks as it was, so I got out of the habit. Finally, now that I have time, books are a part of my life again.
After the momentous day when I got my library card, I promptly requested a book called
A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel. It's a book that the West Chester bookclub girls are reading this month. With only 267 or so pages, you would think that I would have finished it after only a couple days at the most. Well, here I am, a couple weeks later, finally reading the last page. I have to admit, I didn't read in large lengths of time. Five minutes here, ten minutes there about every other day. But that is still no excuse. I realized how slow of a reader I have become. It's okay, don't cry for me. My goal is to get better by cramming in all the reading moments I have lost over the years. My next book is a book I received from my dear mother-in-law by Sherri Dew,
God Wants a Powerful People. I know I can read this one with ease because the very smell of "new book" pages is so inviting. I'll be sure to let you know how it goes.
Back to Zippy. After reading and laughing at every page, I have decided I had better write down my own memoirs before I forget them; (the book was all about the author's childhood in a small town.) Knowing that my memories are probably skewed by the perspective of a child only makes the falsehoods that are bound to be written more likable.
If this were my own "Zippy Book", the first chapter would go like this: Salina was not a town of significance unless you were from Aurora or Redmond. These towns probably would have just been called
habitations if Salina had not existed. The kids from those places got to ride to school on the big yellow buses, something I had coveted for years. My home was not far from the school, maybe only four or five blocks away, so I had to walk. Every day I walked until I got my first bike. First past the Smoker's House with the pointy roof and the pathetic front yard, then across the street to the long, boring stretch of gravel before reaching the crosswalk. There were houses along this stretch, but my memory does not hold any more than one: Weston Mason's grandma's house. It was a boxy red brick house with a green, grassy front lawn. Faithfully, I would think to myself every time I passed it, "
that's where Weston's Grandma lives," picturing Weston's red hair matching the brick of the house (I used photographic memory devices like that all the time.) I was in love with Weston... along with Kurt, Morgan, Dixon, and Clark. Each had at least one unique quality that I particularly liked; Weston had red hair, Kurt and Morgan had brown eyes, and Clark had blond hair
with brown eyes and was shy. Having a million crushes was inevitable because I was genetically wired to have a crush on 75% of the boys at school. It was something that stayed with me throughout my grade school years.
When I finally got to the crosswalk, I would wait impatiently for the crossing guard to stop all traffic for me, and would rush from one side of the road to the other without a single "thank you". The house with the tower of wood was next on the route. I thought the owners were trying too hard to prove they could stack the highest woodpile in Salina. Every once in a while the stack would go down and I would feel smug until I was distracted by their neighbor's acorn tree. Acorns could be used in playground barters because they were so valuable. The most valuable ones were those which had all the parts still connected. Of course, the object of collecting the acorns was for the enjoyment of taking the tops off, which I couldn't resist, so I never got much into bartering.
The few other houses along the way weren't much of consequence to me, so I walked onward thinking of other things. Once I got to the school and inside the building, everything that happened, happened in routine. All of my classmates and I would put our belongings (including the valuable acorns collected on the walk to school that morning,) in the cubbyholes and would eventually make it to our seats.
"I bet you five acorns that the man on the intercom will talk before Mrs. Christensen." (This was the Mrs. Christensen I didn't like all that much. She had something against me, though I never found out what it was.)
"Nu uh! And anyway, I don't have any acorns, that's dumb!" This was the reply of the kid I challenged to the bet. I found out later that using acorns as currency was just something my friend and I made up.
The intercom man had only spoke
once before Mrs. Christensen in all of my fourth grade year, but I was willing to place all of my acorns on the table that
that day, he would beat her to it. Mrs. Christensen got the first word in.
"Okay, everyone stand up. We're going to say The Pledge." Her voice was always so nasally and her lips never made a good, wet "p-ah" sound. She sounded as though she had a muffler installed in her larynx. I could barely stand it some days.
We recited the pledge as quickly as our brains could think of the words and sat down even faster. It was always a competition who could do it faster and louder, and although I don't remember ever getting eyebrows raised in congratulations from my peers, I
personally know I won once. (
"Personally" was a word I embraced in fourth grade. I slipped it into the conversation whenever I felt the need to prove my maturity.)
"Stacia, if I catch you doing that one more time, I swear..." Mrs. Christensen was not one to be trifled with. Whatever "
that" was must have happened between the time we stood up and the time we sat down, but I could not think of a single thing I had done wrong. I usually was the innocent bystander, at least the way I remember it. Oh well, I only had to behave until recess which was any minute now.
(For those of you who actually read this super-long post, thank you for indulging the closet writer in me.)
Right before the game
"Watch out for fly balls!"
Our chaperones: Kurt and Amber
Kickin' it in her baseball jacket
Just in case you didn't believe us about the close seats.
Siena and her "tio" Kurt
It truly was happiness
