Archive for February, 2007
February 13, 2007 @ 5:11 pm | Filed under:
Wonderboy
Wonderboy comes to me and delivers an incomprehensible message in whisper-sounds. I’m pretty sure he can’t even hear a whisper, but he can feel that it’s a different way of talking. Sometimes we are loud, "MOMMEEEE! WHERE GAY-GEE GO?" (The baby is on the move now, and Wonderboy finds her scoot-crawling mobility a bit stressful. Precious objects such as telephones and babies are supposed to stay where you put them. Aren’t they? Aren’t they? Where did she go? Doggone it, she’s halfway down the hall again, and I’m pretty sure she took the phone with her.)
Yes, sometimes we are loud, and sometimes we are hushed and whispery. He comes to me with his tight little grin and his proud whisper, and he pours forth a string of sotto voce gibberish, like my amateur actor friends and I used to do during party scenes in high-school plays.
His secret message thus transmitted, he giggles expectantly, eyes dancing. This is my cue: I whisper back, delivering my own incomprehensible message to ears that can’t detect these sounds even with technological assistance.
Suddenly he is all business, and he trots off down the hall to find Jane. That’s the game, see; he is carrying our messages from one end of the house to the other. I have no idea what she is saying on her end. I keep forgetting to ask her. It doesn’t really matter. We both know the substance of the message is joy.
UPDATED 2012: Thanks to the tireless efforts of HarperPerennial’s Jennifer Hart and the Betsy-Tacy Society, all of Maud Hart Lovelace’s Deep Valley books are now back in print. They’ve been reissued in beautiful editions with vintage illustrations, photographs, and introductions by authors who cherish the Betsy-Tacy books, including Judy Blume, Anna Quindlen, Meg Cabot, Mitali Perkins, Laura Lippman, and yours truly. 🙂 I’ve written about the entire series (with a chronological list) here.
The post below was written in early 2007, when many of Maud’s books were going out of print.
It’s almost hard for me to believe, now, that I grew up without Betsy Ray and her Deep Valley friends. I never heard of the Betsy-Tacy books until 1994, when I was a young staffer at HarperChildren’s, and the galleys for the reissues—the very editions that are now going out of print—began to float across my desk. You never saw a happier little coffee-fetcher than the girl I was, newly married and soon to be expecting baby Jane, sitting in my cubicle devouring those galleys and getting paid for it. Not paid a whole lot, mind you, but still.
Where had Betsy Ray been all my life?
Clearly she was a kindred spirit of the likes of my beloved Anne and Laura. I loved her instantly and passionately, right down to her gap-toothed smile. My own dear mama has the same smile, and I could picture Betsy’s grin exactly. (I would have it too, but for the junior-high braces.)
I had taken that job because I wanted to write, and I hoped working in a publishing house would open some doors for me. (Happily, it did.) In the evenings I would go home to the bitsy three-room Queens apartment in which Scott and I began our married life, and the whole scene was so very Betsy-and-Joe I could hardly contain myself. Betsy’s bird print above her writing desk (Uncle Keith’s trunk) reminded me of the picture I’d hung on the wall beside our computer: a sepia-toned print of a stone doorway between a courtyard and a garden, taken at a monastery we’d passed through briefly on our honeymoon. That doorway spoke to me of all the possibilities that lay on the other side. Step through, it beckoned, and see what surprises await you down these paths.
Betsy would have understood just how I felt.
Even little tiny Betsy, the five-year-old or the ten-year-old: she knew all about the fun of discovering what lay over the Big Hill or alongside the downtown streets. Her cheery disposition, her impish sense of humor, her fierce loyalty, her quarrelsome streak—she was a real and whole person, and when I discovered I was expecting a baby, I couldn’t wait, couldn’t WAIT, to share Betsy with her. Oh, but what if she were a he? Well, then, his sister. Surely, surely, there were girls in my future, my own little Betsy and a Tacy and an Anne and a Jane-of-Lantern-Hill. Right? Right?
When the late-1990s reissues came out, I got to take copies home to lay in wait for the passel of children I hoped to have. And here they are, a passel indeed, and as diehard a bunch of Betsy-Tacy fans you’ll never see—except perhaps in the Edmisten house. And, um, the Cottage. And at Dumb Ox Academy. And okay, fine, in hundreds of other homes around the world.
But hundreds of homes is not enough, not enough to generate new print runs in a world of bottom-lines. And so we’re in danger of having to say bye-bye Betsy. Will the day come when my daughters fight over who gets to have mom’s collection?
There’s one book I won’t let them fight over.
I bought a bunch of copies just in case it, too, disappears, as will likely be the case one of these days. Maud Hart Lovelace’s most beautiful novel, Emily of Deep Valley, takes place in the same Minnesota village as the Betsy-Tacy books, and indeed Betsy makes a cameo appearance. Emily wasn’t part of the original relaunch plan, and when I left my job at HarperCollins to stay home with the due-any-minute Baby Who Would Be Jane, I did so with a photocopy of Harper’s library copy of Emily of Deep Valley in my backpack—a gift from one of the editors on the next floor.
Two years later the same editor sent me, triumphantly, an actual book. She’d been successful in lobbying for the reissue of Emily of Deep Valley, and I could kiss her for it. If you haven’t read this book, oh what a treat you are in for. Emily is the kind of character we don’t often see in these days of “you have to do what’s right for you.” What seems “right” for Emily, devoted scholar, is a college education like the rest of her high-school chums. But she lives with a very elderly grandfather, and somehow, somehow, she can’t bring herself to leave him alone. That, her conscience whispers, wouldn’t be right.
Sometimes, you see, “right for you” isn’t the same as just plain Right.
Doing the real right thing, Emily finds, is often the hardest thing. She also finds out that the Right Thing can be like a doorway, and when you step through it, you find beauty on the other side, beauty in places you never knew existed.
That’s why I have a stack of Emily of Deep Valley tucked away for my children. She mustn’t disappear, this strong and gentle young woman who understands that love means sacrifice and cheerfulness, and the kind of love that cheerfully sacrifices blesses the giver a hundredfold. I can’t think of a finer role model for my young brood—not even Betsy or Anne or Laura.
Related posts:
Heaven to Betsy! High-school-and-beyond books being reissued! (Sept 2009)
Betsy and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill
Betsy-Tacy booksigning at ALA Midwinter
Betsy-Tacy e-books!
The Betsy-Tacy Songbook
Interview with Mitali Perkins, Jennifer Hart, and me about Maud’s books
Photos of my visit to the real Deep Valley, as chronicled by Margaret in Minnesota
Why I love Carney
A Reader’s Guide to Betsy-Tacy
Is it true they are getting rid of the Garth Williams illustrations in Laura’s books?
Only in the new paperback editions with the photographic covers. The Garth Williams art will still appear in the hardcover editions of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books, as well as the colorized paperback editions.
Are Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books being abridged?
No, only the Martha, Charlotte, Caroline, and Rose books are being abridged.
I want to buy the original, unabridged editions of your Martha and Charlotte books. How can I be sure that’s what I’m getting?
The new, abridged editions will have photo covers. The unabridged editions have the painted covers that appear in my sidebar.
Can you give me a list of all your books in order?
The Martha books are:
Little House in the Highlands
The Far Side of the Loch
Down to the Bonny Glen
Beyond the Heather Hills
The Charlotte books are:
Little House by Boston Bay
On Tide Mill Lane
The Road from Roxbury
Across the Puddingstone Dam
Oh no! Is The Road from Roxbury (unabridged) already out of print? I can’t find it at Amazon.
Try smaller booksellers such as those affiliated with the various Little House museum sites around the country.
And thank you so very much for your interest!
Related posts:
Little House news
More about my decision
February 10, 2007 @ 12:13 pm | Filed under:
Family
This post isn’t going to go anywhere; I have no thesis to develop. I just wanted to capture a moment. Yesterday, in the morning rush, getting everyone ready to go on an outing, I looked up and saw Jane, kneeling beside Wonderboy, carefully fitting one of his hearing aids into his little ear.
Just that. The eleven-year-old girl, smiling, concentrating, hands deftly positioning the ear mold and tucking the aid behind the ear. The tiny boy, head patiently tilted, cooperating. The normalness of the moment: this day was nothing special, just a regular morning.
I had to blink back tears. Sometimes it fills you up and overflows, you know? That rush of emotion when you see how blessed you are?
How grateful I am for the moment! That such tender attentions from a sister to a brother should be commonplace, that a three-year-old should have such trust and confidence in his not-really-all-that-big big sister—to glimpse that love and trust, to notice the moment before it flies past, is the best kind of gift. It’s like God pushes the pause button on the videotape of your life, and you get a rare moment to study one single still frame before it all zips back into fast-forward again.
This is the first year in seven years that my kids and I haven’t signed up for Project FeederWatch, a birdwatching-and-counting program sponsored by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. In New York and Virginia, we spent every winter spying on chickadees and juncoes out our kitchen windows. In fact, when we moved to Virginia in January of 2002, the very first box I unpacked was the one marked BIRD FEEDERS.
This year, I figured we were too busy settling into the new California life (after all, at the time of that last move, there were just three tiny girls to keep track of), so I let the FeederWatch deadline come and go. Besides, our Eastern Birds poster won’t help us here in the land of scrub jays and parrots.
But I woke up this morning missing the fun of our Counting Days, and I popped over to the FeederWatch site to see if it’s too late to join the project this year. Turns out you can sign up through February 28. And this year, it appears the good folks at Cornell Lab have tumbled to watch a fantastic match Project FeederWatch is with homeschoolers. They now have a whole page devoted to the connection.
Your $15 registration fee gets you a nice little package of materials:
- Welcome Letter
- Instruction Booklet
- FeederWatcher’s Handbook, full of information on birds and bird feeding
- Full-color poster of common feeder birds with paintings by noted bird artist, Larry McQueen
- Bird Watching Days Calendar, to help you keep track of your Count Days
- Data forms—ten Count Forms for your region, one for each Count Period, and one Count Site Description Form
- Envelope for returning data forms to FeederWatch
(You can also eschew the paper data forms and submit your data online instead. You’ll still get the handbook, poster, and calendar.)
Like Journey North, this project is a wonderful way to bring living science (not to mention math!) into your home and homeschool.
We found it. Searched every box in the garage—again. It wasn’t in any of them. And then, and then…what’s that little box shoved to the back, under a shelf? Don’t remember opening that one…
Hoorah!
Journey North reports:
As
you sit in your cozy classrooms today, where are the California
gray whales? Are you surprised to learn that many are still plowing
south on their 5,000 to 6,000-mile swim from Alaska to Mexico? But most gray whales are in the warm Mexican lagoons
right now.
Going on a whale watch is one of the top items on our list of things to do in San Diego. We missed the boat, so to speak, last month, but we’re on board next year for sure.
What migrations do your families get jazzed about? In the east, we loved watching for the juncoes every winter and (of course) the monarchs in the summer. We had a nesting pair of bluebirds in a box under our deck; every year they delighted us by raising a small brood outside my office window. Here, it’s the parrot flock that delights us, whirling above our street in their noisy green throng. They live here year-round, I believe, the descendants of long-ago escapees. One of these days I’ll get a picture.
From bluebirds and juncoes to parrots and whales! Talk about a wild year!
Flipping through Rose’s Latin book, I saw a snippet of vocabulary: "Mea
culpa—my fault." Underneath them, Rose has penciled in: "But what about
it’s NOT my fault?"
February 6, 2007 @ 11:45 am | Filed under:
Math
It is so intensely frustrating to me that I still cannot locate the Math-U-See Algebra program I bought before we left Virginia. Argh argh argh. Here I thought I was being ohhh so clever, buying it early while we still lived in a state with lower sales tax than California’s.
I have been through every box, I think. And yet I know it’s there, it must be there, somewhere.
Jane finished the MUS Pre-Algebra book shortly after we arrived here. Since then, we’ve been working out of the Jacobs Algebra book, which is certainly an excellent text. It’s just not Math-U-See. And she loooves Math-U-See. And I love it, too, because Steve Demme’s explanations of concepts are so clear and simple and memorable; and because Jane can work through it on her own.
Note to self: Leave the cleverly frugal strategies for people who are, you know, ORGANIZED and can remember where they put things.