A Tale About A Tail

As a child, I loved stories, oral and written.  I loved books but didn’t have any.  The only books I had seen before I started school were the ones my brothers brought home from school.  My family did not have books in our home.  I had one book when I was about five years old.  I had gone to town, shopping with my mother.  We stopped at the candy counter at Woolworth’s and my mom said my sister and I could pick a candy.  My sister picked a box with little candies in it because she would have more than one candy.  I didn’t want candy.  I wanted a book.  My mother let me get the book because it cost the same as the candy.  It was ten cents.  It was a Little Golden Story Book called The Poky Little Puppy.  I loved that book and looked at the pictures over and over again.  I couldn’t read so I made up the story.  Before long though, my book was torn.  I saved it but I really couldn’t look at it any more because it was in pieces. 

When I started kindergarten, I got to look at books at school and slowly, I learned to read them, too.  I loved books even more once I could read some of the words in them and could make out the stories more easily.  I still didn’t have any books at home, except my torn up copy of The Poky Little Puppy.  We were not allowed to take any of the school books home in kindergarten or in first grade or second grade either.  When I got to third grade, my teacher, Miss Stern, had a classroom library and she let us check the books out for two weeks at a time.  On the very first day of school, I stayed in at recess to pick a book.  I found a little book that fit nicely in my hand.  It was called The Tale Of Squirrel Nutkin.  I took the book home and when my two weeks were up, I brought it to school and checked it back in during the last recess then checked it back out after school.  I did this ALL year long.  It was my book.  I loved the book.  I loved the size of it.  I loved the story.  I loved the pictures.  It was mine.  But then my family moved to another part of town and I had to go to another school.  On the last day of school before moving, I had to turn the book in.  I felt like keeping it but I couldn’t do that.  It wasn’t mine.  It belonged to Miss Stern and I liked her.  Besides, it would be stealing and that was bad.  So when I turned in the book I felt like I had lost my prized possession. 

To this day, The Tale Of Squirrel Nutkin by Beatrix Potter remains a loved book of mine, like an old friend.  I always keep a copy of it.  Some times I give it to a niece or nephew or other small child but then I quickly go out and get another copy for myself.