Last week, I got a text from my childhood BFF:
This started a great conversation:
That book she didn’t remember? Hitty: Her First Hundred Years. A friend at work had her copy (also from 1971) and I re-read it immediately.
That’s one of the best things about being a reader, and being friends with readers. My childhood friend and I spent a lot of time using those little wooden cubes to get out of going outside during recess (note: it was Central New York, in the snow belt, and winter from about mid-October through early April). We read, “forced” each other to read books we’d loved, and thoroughly enjoyed spending that hour amid the books. She’s a second grade teacher and I’m sure none of her students can imagine being friends with anyone for 50+ years, let alone remembering allllll that way back to what they’d read and enjoyed reading. And obviously, we won’t be around to ask them 50 years from now. But wouldn’t it be great if they could hear from their younger selves and their friends at that time, reliving the memories of books they’d read because their friend loved them?
And here’s hoping that they also make friends along the way who love books and who share a love for the books they read long ago, even if the friendship is more recent.