A Cold Winter's Good Knight!
A mini blank book for saving ideas!
A reusable LOVE shopping bag!
So, Karen, just email me at storyqueen at gmail dot com with your address and I will send your package right out.
Now for other things.
Twice within the past week, I have been visited from spirits from my own past. (Not in aCharles Dickens kind of way, but in an oh, yes, I remember that person I used to be kind of way).
I used to be a very young teacher in a school called Monte Vista in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I used to teach a combination class of first and second graders. But one year, I think my third year of teaching altogether (which would have made be about 23 or 24), I got to teach a second/ third combination. Oh, I loved this class. It was very diverse in many ways. And the kids were such fun. Imagine my surprise when I got an email from one of them the other day! Not only did I remember him (who must be around the same age I was when I taught him) but I remembered me, that young, idealistic teacher who thought she could make a go of being a teacher, who thought maybe she could make a difference in the lives of kids.
I am so honored that you remembered me, H.
And then, gmail held yet another surprise for me. I got a letter from a coach of a speech team in Iowa asking if a student could perform my story, GOOD NIGHT, GOOD KNIGHT for a show. Have I ever mentioned that I was PRESIDENT of the Speech and Debate Team? (Seriously, you are not surprised, are you? I mean, if you'd ever met me in person you wouldn't be surprised.) My claim to fame was a piece I performed which used over ten different voices. I think it was The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by James Thurber. And now, one of my stories is getting the speech team treatment! And with that little thrill, I was visited again by a teenage girl who practiced funny voices and planned outfits to wear to Speech Tournaments (yes! Tournaments!) that wouldn't look too business-like nor too casual, the girl who could memorize a new story in less than a day if necessary, the girl who wrote her own speeches and practiced while she vacuumed so no one would hear her. Teenage me was so confident and so completely non-confident at the same time.
The funny thing is, I should feel older. I haven't been a teenager or a twenty-something for quite a while.
But I don't. I just feel a bit strange and protective of these earlier versions of me...and how glad I am that they never gave up their hope, idealism or silly voices.