© 2024 Catherine Haslag, All Rights Reserved
© 2022 Catherine Haslag, All Rights Reserved
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine HaslagDear Ms. L’Engle
Dear Ms. L’Engle,
My copy of A Wrinkle in Time, which I read in 5th grade.
It started as a school assignment
in 5th grade. Eighteen copies of A Wrinkle in Time lined up on the shelf like identical little soldiers as Mrs. Hitz talked about the first novel we were reading for the year. We were going to read 4 such novels between August and May. Yours has been with me ever since.
I still have the copy we read. Since our parents provided the money to buy the copies for the classes to share, we got to take them home at the end of the year. It has had an honored spot on my bookcase ever since. My steady companion for 30 years. It was my introduction to the sci-fi/fantasy genre of books. I loved the whimsy of Ms. Who, Ms. What, and Ms. Which. The tesseract boggled my young mind.
I related strongly to the heroine Meg, an awkward girl who doesn’t yet know or trust her abilities. Who doesn’t yet know where she fits in the world. My 11-year-old self hadn’t yet begun to really test what she was capable of let alone trust her abilities. Meg gave me a role model to learn from.
I eventually discovered there were four books about the adventures of Meg and her brothers. I devoured A Wind in the Door and A Swiftly Tilting Planet. I couldn’t get into the adventures of Sandy and Dennys in Many Waters. I am sorry to say they were my least favorite characters in the world you created. The only book of the Time Quartet I didn’t read.
In college, I discovered Meg had a daughter, Polly, when I read An Acceptable Time. I was at another turning point as I was stepping into the adult world. I could relate to Polly just as I had Meg when I was 11.
I recently listened to A Wrinkle in Time on audiobook through my library. It reads just as well at 40 as it did at 11. This time, I was reminded that I still have that unsure girl in me, my own internal Meg, but I also have experience that reminds me I have been tested and that I am strong. I know what I can do and I can trust my skills. I now know my place in this world. Your books helped me make this journey because I could relate to your characters and their challenges. Thank you for bridging that gap so I could grow into who I am today.
Sincerely,
Catherine
© Catherine HaslagCream of Creature From the School Cafeteria
When I was in second or third grade when a copy of Cream of Creature From the School Cafeteria by Mike Thaler made its way onto my bookshelf. I am not sure where it came from. It wasn’t from a Scholastic book order and I didn’t get it from a bookstore. Nonetheless, it was one of the coolest books I read as a kid…mostly because of the ridiculous gross factor.
It is the story of lunchtime at an elementary school. The students are headed to the cafeteria and smell something bad in the air. They also hear strange noises coming from the cafeteria. As the students lined up to get their food, they discovered Lunch was alive and coming for them. Lunch bubbled out of the pot and proceeded to chase them through the school, eating the lunch lady and principal in the process. The more Lunch ate, the more it grew. The police and fire departments tried to stop it, but their attempts failed. The army used flame throwers to try to stop Lunch but just ended up getting eaten by a now hot Lunch. When the air force was called in, Lunch ate the bombs they dropped along with the school’s playground equipment. Everything just made it angry and more hungry.
Mickey, a student at the school, was the last hope. Mickey would eat anything. Mickey agreed to help. He walked onto the playground, pulled out his spoons, and waited for Lunch to come to him.
If you want to know how this book ends, you will have to read a copy of it. I don’t like to spoil such a dramatic ending.
The thing I love about this book is how ridiculous the story is. The idea that the cafeteria lunch could eat the school is impossible, but it’s also fantastically fanciful and enthralling for an 8-year old. Even when I read it as an adult, it tickles the kid in me. That a burbling, gurgling, green lunch could consume a school and those in it is hilarious. That the only hope to defeating it could be a quiet, little kid is the cherry on top.
I always like it when the quiet kid saves the day.
© Catherine Haslag
© Catherine HaslagBook Worm
I love to read. I usually have 3-4 books going at any one time: a fiction novel or memoir, something for personal/professional development, and a book on history/current events. It’s safe to say that I have an addiction to books. As addictions go, there are worse in the world. This one doesn’t involve needles and my brain gets a great work-out. The hard part is finding shelving space for my collection.
This addiction is genetic, I inherited it from my mom. By the time I was walking, I already had an impressive library of Dr. Seuss, Frog and Toad, and Beatrice Potter stories. My mom read to me every night before bed when I was young. I have always had a library of books to access, be it my own or my mom’s. When I was a toddler, my mom invested in a series of fairy tale books that came with cassette tapes. Anytime I wanted to hear a story, I could just pop a cassette in my brown Fischer Price tape player and push play. The tape dinged when it was time to turn the page. I was never without a way to hear a good story from that day forward.
In second grade my teacher, Ms. Taylor, introduced me to a book about Helen Keller and I became obsessed. I read everything I could find about her. Later, Abraham Lincoln was my reading fixation. Eventually, I was introduced to Madeline L’Engle and Luis Lowery and read as many of their books as I could find.
In junior high, I was into R.L. Stein, Christopher Pike, and the Gymnasts series. I borrowed my mom’s copy of Rosemary’s Baby when I was 14. I read it in just a few days…in the very old house I grew up in…after dark. It was (and still is) the scariest book I had read, but it was my first step into adult fiction…and what a step!
My freshman and sophomore years of high school, I was deep into reading Star Trek books. I read on the school bus and any moment I could get between classes. The books provided a shield from the rejection I experienced those first two years of high school. I was a fat, smart kid who wore glasses and hand-me-downs, which made me an easy target for bullies. I discovered that as long as I had my nose in a book, people mostly left me alone.
I read some in college, but not as much as in K-12. Most of my time reading in college involved textbooks, but I always found time to read the latest edition in the Harry Potter series. I picked up reading for pleasure again after grad school. A friend of mine turned me onto Brave New World, The Handmaid’s Tale, and books by Ann Patchett. I have had a book in progress ever since.
Books are my friends and teachers. They provide me transportation to places I can’t experience on a daily basis. They are also far cheaper than a plane ticket and don’t require any vacation days to visit. They teach me about the world and help me connect more to myself. I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by readers, so I am always able to find a new good book to read. There is truth to the saying, “So many books. So little time.” I doubt I will ever be able to finish my reading list. It grows larger by the day.
I want to share some of my favorite books here. The first Wednesday of each month I will post a review for a book I enjoyed. My hope is that I will provide you with another good story to add to your reading list.
May you never reach the end of that list.
What the Wind Told
Cover of What the Wind Told by Betty Boegehold.
One of my favorite books of all time came into my life on a Halloween night. A neighbor lady worked at Scholastics and gave out candy and books to trick-or-treaters. I was the last kid to come to her house one year so I was the lucky recipient of half a crystal punch bowl of candy and a stack of books. A jackpot of massive proportions to someone who could still count their age and not use all their fingers to do so. One of the books in my acquisition was titled What the Wind Told.
The story of the Old Woman’s Window.
Published in 1974 and written by Betty Boegehold, this book tells the story of Tossy, a little girl who is homesick and bored out of her mind. She eventually asks the Wind to tell her stories about the windows across the way to help her pass the time. The Wind tells Tossy stories of a woman whose kitchen floor turns into a pond during the day, a family of plants who keep their children on the window sill, and a dog who sits typing names for things all day long.
The story of the Old Dog’s Window.
What the Wind Told opened my child-mind to the idea that each window contains a story. I wanted to learn those stories. To this day, I enjoy touring other’s homes and looking at their houses as I walk down the street. Each window tells a story about the people who live there. The widower who hasn’t changed anything in the living room since his wife died. The family of 6 who lives in a 2-bedroom house. Bunk beds stacked in one bedroom with sheets in the windows for curtains. The retired neighbor who loves to sit on his 3-season porch and wave at passers-by. The immigrant family who purchased their first home and is chasing their American Dream.
Drool and Gool hiding in the middle of their apartment, terrified.
More than 30 years later this book still inspires my imagination. A home a few doors down from where I live has captivated me for years. It reminds me of the Scary window described by the Wind. The windows are dark and the curtains are always drawn. I never see anyone come and go from the house. There is no car in the driveway or garage. There are never any tire tracks in the snow come winter and the sidewalk is never shoveled. Sometimes I see a cat in the window, staring back in boredom. There are decorations by the door and someone does live there, but there is no evidence of this other than the bored window cat and dumpster and recycling found weekly at the curb. Every time I walk by this house, I imagine that Drool and Gool are hunkered down in a pile of furniture in the living room, hoping no one calls or knocks.
Unfortunately, What the Wind Told is out of print and copies of it are very expensive. I am so thankful for the neighbor who gave me this book when I was a child. It sparked my imagination and taught me that windows are glimpses into others’ lives. The stories our windows tell about us are beautiful and incomplete. A glance at the private lives contained in our homes and hearts.
PLEASE NOTE: All photos used in this blog were taken from my copy of What the Wind Told and are not my personal work or of my creative labor. They were used in this blog to help communicate the essence of the book and provide an illustration of the stories the author was telling.
A VERY SPECIAL THANK YOU to Alvina Jaegers for the Halloween candy and books. Your house was my favorite to visit on Halloween night.