HAPPY BIRTHDAY MISS MACY!

by Angela Zeman

Today is my granddaughter’s first birthday — and I’m missing it. In the sour tradition of “Biology is Destiny,” I had a recent back operation and am not yet allowed to travel. So out of my sore heart, I dedicate this column to her: in anticipation of all the stories I will read to her in future years.

When I attended 4th grade, my teacher, clearly unsuited for her profession, made me stand while she listed my shortcomings for the entertainment of my classmates. My sin? Caught reading instead of listening in spelling class. That I could spell every word through 6th grade and beyond meant nothing to her. For two miserable months she hammered me. Although a quiet and obedient child, I’d become for some bewildering (to me) reason, her favorite target. Your nose is always stuck in a book, she sneered—her mildest insult, unfortunately. My mother, God bless her, soon moved me to a different school.

My nose “has been stuck in a book,” and happily so, for as far back as I can remember. My mother (a young widow) and I spent nearly every Sunday afternoon in the wondrous world of our city library. We would split up inside the door. I would march straight to the children’s area where I stayed until she fetched me, hours later. A stack of books always accompanied me home. At the time, I paid no attention to where my mother went, but later learned of her passion for the mystery section.

My young days were alive with gruesome tales from the green, red, yellow, blue fairy books—an appropriate start on the path to mysteries. I rampaged through the Oz books, Paul Bunyan, biographies, adventure tales; graduated to Tarzan, Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, the Tales of Poe, myths and legends, classics, and Sherlock Holmes. To me, a fatherless child raised by a mother earning poverty-level income, opening a book was like plunging into a limitless, exotic world. As I look back, I remember richly textured days and excitement. We lacked money, but I never noticed.

And no, I didn’t spend all my time reading. My friends and I played hard and long outdoors, filling our empty weedy yards with our imaginations, often acting out roles read about in books. (Television was new in those days, hardly noticed and carefully monitored. Yes, I’m that old.)

As Macy grows, she’ll play with marvelous toys and have access to a treasure-house of books. I’m sure of this, because I’m well acquainted with her parents, especially her mother! Miss Macy and her big brother Mr. Evan, 4, enjoy the fruits of their parents’ love and wise attention. However, soon it will be my particular pleasure to introduce the world of “Once Upon A Time…” to them both (and to their cousin, grandson Luca!), and to pass down the legacy my mother bequeathed to me: the universe.

Evan, enjoying the company of “Grandpabarry.”