A Room for Cathy

by Catherine Woolley and Veronica Reed

copyright 1975

I’ve heard from various people that if you want to know what you should be doing with your life, look to what your passions were as a child.  That concept came to mind this week when a re-read a book that I remembered from my grade school years.

I recall loving this chapter book, A Room for Cathy, and I know I read it quite a few times.  All I could recall, though, was that Cathy was getting a new, larger bedroom and she decided to make some really neat shelves for her collection of books.  Really, that’s all I remembered and apparently it was the most important part of the book to me.

When I re-read it this week, I was surprised to discover that the well loved book-shelf-making only took one short chapter.  

Cathy preparing her bookshelves

This is actually a story about a 10 year old girl who learns a few important lessons in generosity and friendship.  Cathy and her family have always lived in a small apartment in the city.  Now, however, due to the coming Promotion of her father, they are able to buy a spacious house in the country.  Finally, Cathy will have privacy from her two younger siblings while she enjoys her spacious suite of rooms.  Her new life is all she expected and more as she not only has a beautiful room (with homemade bookshelves) but she also meets many new friends.

Imagine her deep disappointment when the Promotion doesn’t go through and the family needs to rent out part of their home to boarders – including Cathy’s beloved room.  Sadly, she has to move back in with her little sister.

Circumstances look up when Cathy meets the new boarders.  Naomi, a girl her age, has moved in with her author mother and the two girls become fast friends.  Cathy learns that sharing has many benefits and can make both parties much happier.  It’s really quite a nice story.  

And all I remembered was the bookshelves.

My Father’s Dragon

By Ruth Stiles Gannett

Copyright 1948

I first read this book to my own children as one of the first chapter books we read together.  I hadn't heard of it until reading about it on a list of recommended chapter books for young children.  I think the story of Elmer Elevator in My Father’s Dragon is a perfect first non-picture book.  It won a Newbery Honor in 1949, but has stood the test of time. Sprinkled throughout are several illustrations that depict Elmer’s adventures, but they aren’t really necessary.  The story itself is so humorous and engaging that the words themselves paint the pictures.  

In this story, 9-year-old Elmer has learned from an old alley cat that a baby dragon is being held captive on Wild Island.  Surely, if rescued, the dragon would be happy to fly Elmer anywhere on his back.  So Elmer packs his backpack full.  Besides 25 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and, Elmer packs a comb, six magnifying glasses, chewing gum, some rubber bands, a toothbrush, and two dozen pink lollipops.  Although he meets dangerous and predatory animals, Elmer is able to use his ingenuity, in often hilarious ways, to escape their clutches and reach the poor dragon.

My favorite part was when he fashioned a bridge across a river teaming with crocodiles by tying the pink lollipops onto each tail.  The crocodiles then lined up in order to lick the lollipop fastened to their friends’ tails, allowing Elmer to run across their backs to the other side of the river.  

  

Resourcefulness is the lesson here.  Be creative with what you have on hand to solve your problems.  Elmer was armed with a backpack full of simple, random items yet was able to use those items to rescue an oppressed dragon from its captors.  Use your head, and use what you have on hand.  You may not be able to outwit the lions and crocodiles in order to rescue a dragon, but you can tackle other obstacles on the way to your goals. 

Lesson From Storytime

The past week or two has been exhausting and busy.  So busy, in fact, that time to read has been really limited.  While I have no lesson from a book to share this week, I do have a lesson that I learned in storytime.

Wednesday morning, I was expecting a group of 50 to 60 people for library storytime.  I was exhausted, to say the least.  Sleep had been eluding me for several days.  My eyes were bloodshot and I had even deeper, darker circles under my eyes that usual.  As I prepared for the energetic group of toddlers and preschoolers, I wondered what the caregivers were going to think of me and my haggard looks.  Never the less, as the crowd poured in, my energy rose.  We had so much fun.  I delighted in seeing  the young children dance with their colorful scarves as I blew bubbles for them to pop, hearing them shriek with glee.

 

Then, as the children walked up to me to put their scarves away, a child of just about 4 years old came up and said to me, “You’re pretty!”  

That was my lesson for the day, or even for the year.  In the eyes of a child, pretty has nothing to do with how we look.  Pretty is how we act and how we smile and how we laugh.  Pretty is how we make other people feel.  And I made that little boy smile and laugh, so therefore I was pretty to him. 

 

My sisters and I have a joke argument going.  Who is the smart one, who is the nice one and who is the pretty one?  I’d like to think that according to my new definition of pretty, we are all the pretty ones. 

Practical Instruction for Paper Hanging

Ewing and Harris 1946 

This book belonged to my father-in-law. 

I never knew him to read anything but the newspaper or religious devotional books.  I spent many a summer morning at his home in Northern Wisconsin, looking out at the lake, waiting for the fog to lift and talking about the weather while passing sections of the local paper back and forth.  Like me, he was an early riser.  Occasionally I would hear a little disgusted grunt coming from his chair if he would read about some piece of news that particularly irked him.  We didn’t discuss politics – we would have disagreed.  

Since his life on earth ended this past week, I’ve reflected on what I learned from him over the past 30 years.  He was never one to talk much.  He didn’t share words of wisdom or a list of principles to live by.  

This book here is an example of what comes to mind when I think about his life.  He was born in 1931 and never finished high school.  Instead, he learned a trade, and he learned it well.  Then he worked hard - really hard – all his working years – for his family.  No whining, no complaints.  It’s just what he did.  I know his children appreciate what he did for them.  And I am grateful too, for he passed that value along to his son!

I am also grateful that he was able to spend quite a few years in retirement at his home on the St. Croix Flowage.  He certainly deserved the rest.  And when I think of him, those are the moments I remember the most.  Those early mornings, watching the fog clear from the lake.  We didn’t talk much – but that’s okay.  Sometimes actions speak louder than words.