When I was a kid I wanted to live inside Jeanie’s bottle and travel by magic carpet
be chosen as a contestant on the Price is Right get slimed on Nickelodeon’s You Can’t Do That on Television make it to bucket number six on Bozo’s Grand Prize Game walk off stage with a pile of prizes, a brand new bike
When I was a kid I wanted to eat SpaghettiOs we never had in our house raise cute little sea monkeys what would I name them? shrink myself to ride Mister Rogers’s trolley go on a real field trip with him feed his fish
When I was a kid I wanted to sit on the steps of a brownstone on Sesame Street even though I might have been too old dance in a fire hydrant’s fountain releasing its cool spray on a hot summer day claim the top bunk at camp write letters home by flashlight swat at mosquitoes on my neck sticky with sweat
When I was a kid I wanted to explore the woods and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water even though I didn’t know about architecture listen to babbling brooks as snowmelt swelled streams and creeks and rivers I wanted to wave at Santa from Broadway at Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade catch snowflakes on my tongue wave at the camera to kids watching from home ride a subway
When I was a kid I wanted to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony
Hi again. This is the 4th or 5th time I write to you (on my blog). I’ve had people suggest I send these letters (links) to you. Worth a try even though you may be buried in fan mail. I’d absolutely love it if you’d write back.
Thank you for writing books I needed to read when I was a kid. I’ve never forgotten them and I learned about the world in them. Looking back, I also learned about family dynamics. My parents worked long hours out of necessity. I had first born child responsibilities as a tween and teen, you know, be the little adult you’re in charge until we get one type of situation. My grandparents and extended family lived minutes away, so it wasn’t an unhealthy or awful situation, just one of those where we had some responibilities a little earlier than most kids do. Your books helped me be a teen with other teens and I enjoyed living vicariously through your characters.
My daughter and I recently re-watched Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret while she finished some homework. We both enjoyed watching it on the big screen and it was fun having it on again. She’s now older than Margaret’s character so she had a great time psychoanalyzing the family dynamics. She even offered Margaret advice through commentary about her friends and life change.
I’d love to visit your book shop some day. I’ve heard that sometimes you’re working in the shop. you are at the top of my author meet-up bucket list. I’ve been lucky to meet great authors in person, so I know it’s a possibility. If I saw you out in public I’m sure I’d go right back to my twelve year old self in excitement. If I met you in person, I think I’d cry.
Do you still get massive amounts of fan mail? I wanted to write to you years ago, but I wasn’t sure if you’d read my letter. I find myself wondering the same question now. Maybe you’ll get this. Maybe it will remain unsent. Regardless, I appreciate how your books found me.
Sincerely, a long time fan,
Ally
P.S. Is there anything you wish you would have written?
Small town life puts a special bubble around you. We didn’t get out much as kids, except to run errands with our mom in a larger, but still small-ish town. Orthodontist appointments, groceries, Pizza Hut buffet, and if we were lucky, a visit to the music store.
Contests from cereal boxes, Columbia House subscription forms, magazine inserts for free Banana Republic catalogs, and addresses from Teen Beat to swoon-worthy heart throbs were our way to connect to the world. Except, we weren’t allowed to send any Columbia House cards, ever. Don’t you dare was warning enough. I filled out my selections and address anyway, but it never went in the mail. I’d imagine life with endless cassettes.
Any letters that were exchanged were slipped to friends between classes in that fancy 80s wrap around fold. If we sent anything, it was lost forever, but it was fun imagining winning a lifetime supply of corn flakes. Little Debbies. Willy Wonka candy.
One day, there was a surprise. I arrived home after school, dropping my backpack on a chair at the kitchen table. Everyone else gathered around the buzz of the kitchen, willing dinner to be served, hot tortillas flying off the griddle and onto a cloth dish towel to keep them warm.
“You got something in the mail,” Mom mentioned between the rolling pin sliding across the counter, flattening balls of dough.
“Me?” I looked through the stack and found something with my name on it. I didn’t request anything. Perplexed, I flip the envelope over and retrieve a letter. Brochures I ignore are stuffed in the envelope, but I place them on the table in favor of the letter.
It’s addressed to me and I start reading aloud.
“…bedwetting is not a problem you should be ashamed of…”
“BED WETTING?! I don’t wet the bed!”
“Bed wetting?” Mom asks.
I look at the brochure full of resources to rectify the problem. People of all ages…
“Where did this come from and why does it have MYNAME on it?”
I hear giggling. It gradually grows into full-blown laughter. My younger sister can’t contain herself. “It was me; I did it!”
“What did you do?” Mom asks.
“I filled out the card,” hysterical laughter.
“At the orthodontist’s office, when you had an appointment. I didn’t think they’d send anything!”
“Thanks a lot!” I scream only like a first-born annoyed by a sibling teen can scream. And then I started crying of embarrassment. Someone, somewhere, sent me mail because they think I’m a bed wetter. How humiliating.
Everyone else laughed. Mom kept making tortillas and brushed it off. “Throw it away, it doesn’t matter.”
Inspired by Tammy’s post, here are my top five things I’d bring to a Favorite Things Party to share around a fire.
Archer and Olive notebooks. I even researched paper weight on the quest for the perfect notebook. Trying different brands, this one is my favorite. Size B5, but currently working in an A5 and A6. Definitely a splurge, but worth it.
Sanders Dark Chocolate Sea Salt Caramels. My kids claim to dislike dark chocolate. I bought a tub at Costco several years ago, not worried they’d eat them. Of course, on the occasion I wanted one, I found the jar more than halfway empty. When I buy them, I take them to work. There’s a cabinet in my office for teachers where I keep a stash of chocolate for them. Non-dark chocolate eaters have converted to the dark (chocolate) side. I imagine these will make delicious adult-level s’mores to pair with a nice glass of red wine.
Corral boots. I’m a native Texan and I only got my first pair of boots two years ago on a trip to Ft. Worth. These are comfortable enough to wear all day. Surprisingly, they don’t make my legs or feet sweat when I wear them through hot summer days. I like wearing them with shorts or dresses. Sugar skulls are a bonus.
Palmer’s lip balm. I have it everywhere: my purse, work bag, nightstand, desk drawer. It’s oval shaped and slides on well with no stickiness.
Stickers! I’m a child of the 80s and had a sticker collection. I bought a kids sticker subscription from Pipsticks for my daughter’s tenth birthday. I promised a full year. When the year ended, I kept it for myself. I plan to cancel, but I get fun snail mail once a month in shiny holographic envelopes. What’s not to love? I re-purposed the envelopes and used the stickers to make buttons I give away to kids at school. You can have your sticker and wear it, too. Anyone want to trade?
Dancing the Cotton-Eyed Joe was my favorite, not because I could do the simple line dance without tripping over my feet or because I liked country music. It was my favorite because I got to freely holler–BULL-SHIT!–at the top of my lungs without cowering at my little silent angel self who sat on my right shoulder coaching me into possible sainthood.
My little devil self who sat on my left shoulder jabbed her pointed little tail and pitchfork into me in time to the music. And she made me laugh. And told me it was okay to let loose and have a good time.
Little angel self firmly kept little devil self in check that wouldn’t allow her to go past that dance. No beer. No wine coolers. No running around with the wrong crowd after hours. I mingled with some of them, but veered off in a different direction once my dose of fun expired. When the clock neared midnight. Well, 10:30 or 11:00, and long before I had half a chance to lose a golden slipper that resembled a knock off penny loafer, here came my ride. Usually my mom, I saw her car’s headlights coming up the driveway.
First one to get picked up, unless my friend T was allowed out of the house. Her parents were worse than mine. She wasn’t here tonight so there I go, embarrassed at being the one to leave first.
I have to go!
I say goodbye to my friends and the music, just as the fun gains momentum and my confidence started taking off. I look wistfully behind my shoulder heading toward the car, wondering about the stories I’ll hear Monday morning.
Give ’em a bunch of Cap’ n Crunch so it will scratch off the roofs of their mouths…
“Ahh! Cap’ n Crunch! Who still eats that and why does it hurt to eat it?”
We never got Cap’ n Crunch. We had to settle for government issued King Vitamin. Those did the same thing though, but they’re not nearly as sweet as Cap’ n Crunch.
On we go discussing childhood memories of favorite breakfast cereals. Froot Loops. Toucan was my favorite cereal mascot. It’s the closest to the jungle I could get, reading the back of the box finding the hidden images in the puzzle without checking them off as I found them, milk turning gray. I’m not giving away the answers to my two younger sisters and bratty lactose-intolerant brother, although I’d take a peek at the solution turning the box upside down.
On second thought, maybe Tony Tiger is my favorite. Frosted Flakes were a special treat. Otherwise, we relied on generic corn flakes, add your own sugar. Add it we did, but it didn’t work well as it wound up in a thick layer in the bottom of the bowl after the milk was slurped. Sometimes I added sliced bananas, but overall, it qualified as grown-up cereal. There was a recipe we used to make sweet, gooey peanut-butter bars with too many boxes. In that case, they were grrrreat!
Lucky Charms were fun, without the milk. Anyone else pick out the “lucky charms?” I din’t like hard, shriveled marshmallows, but they were cute. The cereal, re-shaped Alpha-Bits, were tasty. Speaking of Alpha-Bits, I could never scoop up a full word on my spoon. Why were the letters always broken? The magic of television.
Fruity Pebbles were okay, but the best ones were chocolate. Who wouldn’t want chocolate milk after all the crunch was gone?
Honey Nut Cheerios were always so much better than regular, until I started buying them for my kids. Three plain Cheerios on the high chair tray kept them occupied while I cooked dinner, until they perfected the pinscher grasp and began grabbing them by the fistfuls. Three little oat circles were never enough.
I rarely eat cereal now. Occasionally, I’ll crave a bowl of Frosted Flakes, but never enough to warrant buying a box of it. If we have granola, I’ll crunch on a small amount with coconut milk. We have a box of Honey Nut Cheerios on top of the fridge. I don’t remember the last time it was opened. It’s probably stale by now.
Saturday morning cartoons and a bowl of cereal has been replaced with a cup of coffee and a list of too many things to do.
Eleven year old me only read it once or twice. It might have been the library’s copy. Maybe it was my then bff’s tattered copy. I read it and I loved it. That’s how I traveled to New York. I went to confession with Margaret for the first time. That’s how I found out about other religions. Seriously. I didn’t know details about Christianity and Judaism, I just knew they were different. I didn’t know people argued about such things, especially the adults. I also had friends who seemed to know a lot more than seemed knowable at the age of eleven.
I organized a small watch party for the movie this past weekend. Adults only, until my thirteen year old invited herself. Okay. This is rare. I bought another ticket.
The movie theater wasn’t full, but it was one of those that reminds you to turn off your phone and remain silent or you risk getting kicked out. When movie Margaret takes a walk in her neighborhood, I yelled out “It’s HER!” as if she was there with me. Judy Blume. Being a sucker for fangirling over authors, I can imagine what I’d do if I met her in person.
Then came “I must, I must, I must increase my bust!” Except now, my chant has changed the word increase to decrease. In true book nerd form, there we were, chanting and doing said exercise along with a bunch of pre-pubescent girls on the big screen, laughing. Go ahead, try kicking out a bunch of hormonal middle-aged women.
Memories of enjoying this book took us back in time. If this movie would’ve been around back then, would I have enjoyed it in the same way? Would I have read the book? Our post-flick discussion had us telling stories of our own initiation into womanhood. Some are funny, some terrifying, but they all tie us together. Just like a good book.
Are you still there Judy? It's me, Ally. I know you're there. I know you would've made sure this movie was made the way you wrote it. I wouldn't have missed it for anything and I'll gladly watch it infinity times. Thank you, Judy. Thanks a ton...
I’m so nerdy, subscribe to a sticker club. It’s like an ’80s sticker store, but in the mail. I purchased a year’s subscription for my mini-me two years ago as a birthday gift. I didn’t cancel the subscription, but decided to gift it to myself. Plus they offer a teacher discount, so how can I cancel? I’ve been hoarding stickers ever since. I don’t want to use them, but I totally need to use them. I have no business buying a sticker album either. Yes, they sell those too.
Deconstructing the mailing envelope.
Every month, I receive a shiny holographic envelope with another sparkly zippered pouch packed with stickers. Oh happy day, snail mail, my favorite! I’m sure I can repurpose the envelopes, so I hoard them along with my stickers.
Last week, I received a badge machine I ordered for our library’s maker space. Bingo! I packed up my sticker stash and envelopes. I’ve never used one, so it was time to play. I cut out circles from the envelopes and the front page of the ‘zine that comes with each pack. The covers have fun prints, so I read them, rip the cover, and save them along with everything else.
After several failed attempts at making a badge and before deciding to send it back, reading the directions might help. I left out the important metal base. Went back to try again and alas, awesome, shiny, 80s style buttons. I decided to make a few for students to see if they’d like them. I wasn’t sure if they’d go over well. My idea of cool stuff is not their idea of cool stuff. Once spotted though, our regulars all wanted one.
Taking it a step further, I decided to make some donning the covers of popular books. The backgrounds aren’t shiny because we print them out, but sure enough, students are looking for their favorite titles. My library assistant made a template so all we have to do is place the image of the book cover on the circle templates, print, and cut them out. We have books on the 2022 Texas Lone Star Reading List ready to print. One of our student aides has learned how to make them and the task is now hers to supervise others.
I’m hoping these will motivate students to read. Even if they don’t, it will bring them through our doors so we can have a little bonding time, chatting. About books. Or stickers. Or about what it was like growing up in the 80s. (Hello, primary source, here.) And they’ll leave with a mark of library coolness.
Two students came in this morning to print flyers they made for next week’s Spirit Week, kicking off spring break ’22 (is it really that time already?). One of them is a student library helper that has taken on the task of checking out books to students so we can work on more pressing issues. Like making sure no one tries to bite a Chromebook. True story, but not under my watch.
One of the scheduled spirit days is “Dress as Your Favorite Decade.” They asked if I’d be participating. “Heck yes! Totally the 80s for me.” Then I began reminiscing. They asked what it was like and how I dressed. My answer? Pretty much like I do now, except everything was neon. Big hoop earrings. Side pony tails. Leg warmers. Fingerless gloves. Rectangular sunglasses. Rubber bracelets stacked from wrist to elbow. Miami Vice jackets with huge shoulder pads.
Miami Vice…my celebrity crush was Don Johnson, among many others. “Ooh, Ms. Garza, was he cute?” They proceeded to Google him. “No! Not yet! You can’t Google the Don Johnson now. You have to search for the 80s Miami Vice Don Johnson, they won’t look the same. Don’t do it!”
Too late. They give each other an odd look. Sure enough, it’s not the Miami Vice Don Johnson. We dig a little deeper and find one of Crockett and Tubbs donning their signature pastel t-shirt and suit combos. Sigh… “I know, he was way too old for me.” My library assistant chimes in, “But if it’s a celebrity crush, it doesn’t matter.” I mull it over. “True, but look at him now, ewww! It’s just ewww! He’s old enough to be my dad! Gross!” They agreed without having to agree with me. “Okay Ms. Garza, we’re going to come check out your outfit.”
“The flyer says you’re giving out candy if people participate. I’m totally going to get some candy!”
I print their flyers. We chat a little more about how we plan to dress up and other 80s celebrity crushes. For about ten minutes I was 13 again, swooning over a Google search instead of a poster in Teen Beat magazine.
Nerds Beget Nerds 