Happy birthday to we!

My sister and I turn 52 today. It makes me giggle to say this because, although my body has given me some trouble lately, my mind feels young. Maybe that is because I work with you people. Who knows. I don’t have a ton of pictures of myself as a tiny tot, but this is one of my sister and I with Mamère, our maternal French-Canadian grandmother.

She passed away not long after this and I have no memory of ever meeting her. There are very few shots of me smiling as little person.

  

It surprises people to learn that I didn’t grow up surrounded by books. We went to the library and we had books in the house, but I wasn’t obsessed as a child the way I am now. I blame that on Mrs. Lew, the New Hamburg Children’s Librarian.

The year I was born, 1964, saw the publication of a few children’s books now considered classics.

Believe it or not, Flat Stanley, who is still being sent and photographed around the world, first appeared in 1964. He’s had many incarnations, but the story remains well-loved.

Charlie and the Chocolate factory also appeared in 1964. It, too has seen many covers.

Harriet the Spy has also evolved.

Other books came out that year:

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang  by Ian Fleming

Across Five Aprils  by Irene Hunt

The Pushcart War  by Jean Merrill

The Giving Tree  by Shel Silverstein

Happy Father’s Day

My dad’s name is Earl. Here we are in the late 60’s. Dad is obviously in the centre. I am on the left and my twin sister, Andrea is on the right. We might have just woken Dad up from a nap, during which we put a teddy bear beside him and a blankie over him. I wonder now if he was awake the whole time we were doing that.

I won’t get to see Dad this year. I was planning on calling him this morning, but he fell and broke his hip a few days ago. He had surgery yesterday. He is 83 and has Alzheimers and I am feeling more than a little worried. If you are someone who prays, please put in a word for his recovery.

Since it is Father’s Day, I’m sure that most of you would agree that Atticus Finch is THE best Dad in literature. And when I think of Atticus Finch, I see Gregory Peck.

Another great Dad, who loved unconditionally and did a lot with very little was Danny’s Dad, William, in Roald Dahl’s  Danny the Champion of the World. 

This is a Dahl book that doesn’t get read as much as the others, but is definitely worth reading.

And how about the  Knuffle Bunny  Dad by Mo Willems? That man has the patience of Job.

Or the Dad in Jane Yolen’s Owl Moon?

Sneed B. Collard III takes a different twist with Animal Dads.

What are your favorite Dad books?