Found the Picture!

This is the picture I've wanted to show you on several Mother's Days. At least for the past three years. But I couldn't find it. Well, I found it this year, scanned it, put the original in the right place, and filed the digital copy. So now, ta-da! I can bring you three generations of tough-as-nails women. Individually that is probably good. Together, we were a difficult trio. But between genetics and what they taught me, "I-yam what I-yam."

On the left is Granny, Emily Marguerite Fisher Rowe, I'm in the middle, and Mom, Catherine Burnham Rowe Leary is on the right.

This picture was taken the same day as the picture of me alone that I shared with you in January (link below). This was sometime around my second birthday.

The old pictures would get sorted faster if I made it a priority, but I just sort of mooch along with trying to get one in the right place when I come across it.

I used the last of my birthday money to order two plants I doubt I'll find in any nursery around here. They cost too much this way, but hopefully they will survive and be worth it.

In other news, I got the mower running! Mowed a little, but I have to find a way to get the seat farther forward. The engineers forgot that some of us still have short legs. And I started weeding the front flower bed. Plants are up enough now that I won't be killing things by accident.

See When I Was Cute

When I was Cute

 Today was a day I'd rather not repeat. Have a picture of me taken right around the time of my second birthday. Don't know exactly, but spring 1950. This was sent to me by one of cousin Jean's sisters (so also a third cousin, although I'm not really in touch with her)

The headache was still awful this morning. I went and got Excedrin Migraine because it has different ingredients. You may recall me saying that I really hate taking any new medication because I'm never sure how I will react.

Well, within 15 minutes I was so strung out I called Cathy and asked if she could take me to Urgent Care if I wasn't better in a half hour. I was moderately better then, but ended up going to bed. A couple of times, I thought I might still need to get medical attention, but am quite a bit better now. The headache is only a dull throb instead of constant stabbing. Hopefully, it will continue to get better. But, I still can't do screen, or sit up long enough to do much.

Headed back to bed.

Where I(t) All Began

  One of my third cousins (the toddler pictured in the second link below) sent me this from a box she had been sorting. She is the youngest sibling of my cousin Jean that is featured here fairly often since we've reconnected.

It was sent to my mother's second cousin Helen, as you can see from the envelope. Helen was an aunt of Wendy, the lady who sent it on (back) to me. See Helen in the first link below.

Here's the interior. You can see that I started out tiny (and I was 3 weeks overdue) and although it appeared for a while that I was going to be tall, as things turned out... I'm still fairly tiny.

In other news: I worked on computer things in the morning, including (I am beyond overjoyed to report) finding some master files that I thought might have been permanently lost in a double computer/external hard drive crash two computers ago. But I had them in a third location, also on a flash drive. What a relief!

In the afternoon I prepared books for mailing and walked to the PO. Have had a little time for my pet project.

Miles walked in 2024: 451

See Cousin Helen See Jean Hall and Joan Hall

Girl Scouts Forever

So, tonight was my first program since the recent NCT hike. It went really well except it was by Zoom, which I hate. However, it did make the meeting possible since it was with Scouts from just outside Washington, DC. They are a Trailblazer Troop, which means they focus on outdoor activities.

Their leader contacted me about two days after I finished the hike and wanted me to speak to them. When he found out I'd been a Girl Scout, and that it was an important part of my life, he was over-the-moon excited, and wanted me to share about that part of my history as well as the hike.

Did I remember to hit "print screen" even once during the program to capture who was there? No... so, you will just be stuck with a few more pictures from my Scouting experience. Just so you know, if you wonder why I charge for these programs, the opening 1 min 40 sec, with the song "Girl Scouts Together" playing with pictures took about 20 hours to put together.

This is the Cadette Uniform, 1962.

As part of Girl Scout Week that same year, another girl and I wore vintage uniforms to school. I'm on the left wearing a 1935 uniform, and Wendy, on the right, is in a 1929 uniform.

Here's one of the few pictures of me in the Senior Scout uniform, probably 1965. I really despised (stronger than hated) the straight skirt and avoided wearing it. But this was some event where I was in charge of some Intermediate Scouts and apparently had to wear it. Notice my red tie. That means I was also in a Trailblazer Troop. (Ordinary troops had yellow ties.) The GSA dropped Trailblazers and Mariners when I was in college, but have recently brought them back. It was pretty awesome to connect with some other girls who are eager to do things in the outdoors.

All I did all day was work on the NCT part of this program. There are still some tweaks, but I've got it in pretty good shape. My next program is in September NEXT WEEK.

See 1965 Girl Scout Roundup

Camp Comstock - 1960 - A Beginning

  Second session at Camp Comstock in 1960 was a life-changing summer in more ways than one. Yesterday I told you about the activities.

Today, I'll tell you about a person. Marie had been going to Comstock the same years I had, but she always went to second session and I went to third. But now, here we were both at second session. Here she is with her tent mate (Judy somebody). She's the one in front.

If she were here to tell the story, she'd explain that she was afraid of me for the first 3 days. I had a green jacket that had been my grandmother's. For some reason, she thought this made me look intimidating. Truth be told, I spent almost every minute that there wasn't some chore to be done sitting up in a tree, because I had no social skills at all.

But somehow, we must have started talking. Our family's dynamics were similar. We had the same bony narrow feet, five sizes apart. This may seem like an odd basis for a friendship, but other people simply didn't understand the things our feet would (will) not tolerate. We had strong similarities in our worldview, although that wasn't what it was called back then.

She gave me my nickname, Sharkey, although we are NOT explaining why. And she has refused to use it ever since that first year.

Here is our Pioneer Unit picture. Marie is standing far left and I am squatting far left in front of her.

You know how many junior-high friendships survive, right? But ours did. We lived 60 miles apart, which might as well have been the other side of the moon back then. We were seniors in high school before our parents let us visit each other's homes. I was from the northernmost village in the Council, and she was from the southernmost. We actually wrote letters to each other. (Now the thought of using snail mail can send either of us into a spasm.)

Here we are in about 2008.

And here we are just a few months ago.

The whole phrase, "Best Friends Forever," the BFF, sounds so adolescent. But I think by now, this has proven to be true for us. And now you know how long we've been friends. Usually, when people ask, Marie just rolls her eyes and says, "Longer than you've been alive."

In other news: I did something on most of my current projects, but I spent a lot of time on two of them, so it wasn't very balanced. But I got a lot done.

See Pioneer-Primitive Unit

Camp Comstock - 1960 - Pioneer-Primitive Unit

  We left off yesterday with me crying all night at my fate of being left behind in the unit for less serious campers. At least that's what they were in my mind. Buccaneers, along with most of the other units, went to the lodge for 3 meals a day served on plates (with a few unit cookouts). They used the camp latrines. They did not sleep on the ground. Their actvities were more mundane, like afternoon crafts.

Monday morning, I was informed that one of the campers assigned to Pioneer-Primitive did not want to live such a rustic life, and wanted to switch to Buccaneer. I would be headed for Pioneer (the name was generally shortened). You probably don't have to guess at my reaction.

Meet the counselors: Bambi (eating pancakes- from a mess kit while sitting on the ground)

And Windy: my favorite that year. She was more serious about campcraft kinds of things.

Yes, I stayed at camp for two sessions- 4 weeks. Yes, we built that unit from nothing except a clearing and small pavilion. We did a ton of stuff. I have pictures of some of it. Practically the first thing (except pitching the tents, which was already done for the session where I was switched, so I missed that activity at that time) was to build a fire ring. That was tricky in this part of New York, because shale is not acceptable for fire-ring rocks. It will explode when it gets hot, so we had to find small glacial erratics in the woods which were usually some rounded metamorphic things. Eventually, we found enough, but maybe not all the first day. You can see them in one of the pictures below.

We also dug our own latrine. At first, it was just a hole with a lashed seat and a small bucket of lime. But eventually, we wove a partial screen of wattles for privacy.

We learned to lash, and to lash well. This is our unit tool rack.

We cooked ALL our own meals on an open fire, and rotated through various chores. Each day a team of two girls carried our food supplies from the lodge in Adirondack pack baskets. (I think this was done on the way back from swimming or boating lessons, rather than a separate trip.) It was about three-tenths of a mile from the unit to the lodge, so not extraordinarily far, but farther away than any other unit.

One of the most memorable activities, because it turned out to be one of great hilarity, was to roast whole chickens over the fire. This girl, Nancy, had a natural gift for comedy. As we were fixing the chicken on the spits (no, we did not kill, pluck and draw them, but they must at least have had packaging and the giblets inside to remove). Anyway, Nancy thought they looked like little headless people. She put napkin diapers on them and did improv dialogue with them. This was so far out of my realm of experience (and I think most of us felt the same way) that we were just a puddle of giggling girls. She named the four chickens George, Henry, Irving and Dennis. (You can see one of the pack baskets behind her.)

Despited bestowing them with names, we cooked them anyway. What an experience! This was real campfire cookery, not just mixing cans of soup with some hamburger. We had dug and lined the fire pit, built the spit and supports, fixed the chickens, built the fire and then had to tend it for hours to keep turning those birdies!

Finally, we were old enough to learn canoeing instead of rowboating. This included more than learning the various strokes, but tipping over on purpose. paddling a swamped canoe (they were canvas, so they would float), rescuing someone in the water without tipping, and races. I didn't want to overwhelm you with pictures, but one of the really fun whole-camp events was watching the counselors in a jousting competition. One counselor paddled while another stood on the gunwhales with a paddle, trying to knock a competitor off her canoe. Probably way too dangerous by today's standards, but we allowed more risk in our lives back then.

One of the best events of each session was the final campfire. All the campers convened in one location for a huge ceremonial fire (think large but controlled- not really a bonfire). There was some sort of program (each unit provided some part) and lots of singing. It usually lasted until after dark and included some kind of lighting ceremony, such as the launching of small boats with a candle or something. They always ended with three songs. The first was either "Linger," "Flicker," "Remember," or "Each Campfire Lights Anew." This was followed by "Anna Botsford Comstock," (you can follow the category link below to read more about her if you want) and the end was "Taps." Remembering these still can make me tear up.

If camp had been special to me before, this year it became the one place in the world where I could be myself and not only not be put down, but admired for knowing camp skills and not minding being dirty. I thrived. One of the lines of "Flicker" is "Love is for those who find it, I've found mine right here..." I had finally found where I belonged.

Stay tuned for part 3 of the 1960 camp story.

In other news: I did a little bit on every single one of my current projects today. Yeah, me! This includes reading what I think will be the last book that counts as research toward Vacation from Dead Mule Swamp. It is SO written in teen-speak that it gives me a headache, but it's more pertinent than the last two, so hooray.

See Buccaneer Unit Camp Comstock

Camp Comstock - 1960 - Buccaneer Unit

  1960 was an interesting and life-changing year for me at Camp Comstock. It's going to take 3 days to tell the story, and tonight there aren't even good pictures to go with it.

First of all, I want you to know that it cost $40 to go to a 2-week session of camp. That was a lot of money, and I had saved that amount the previous year. I think my mom would have come up with the cash, but I was determined to pay my own way. I had a mechanical dime bank that locked when you put the first dime in and wouldn't open until you had $10. That was perfect. I wasn't tempted to sneak any money out of my camp fund. I'd show you a picture, but the bank was stolen a long time ago by one of our foster kids.

I'd always gone to third session at Comstock. However, I really, really (using junior high vocabulary there) wanted to go to two sessions. There were two ladies at church, unmarried sisters who lived on their family farm. It was a big property with a lovely house and a white board fence that encircled the estate-sized lawn. I just spent an hour looking for a picture of that yard, because I'm sure I have one. But I can't find it either. Anyway, they said they would pay me $40 to scrape and paint that fence. And, just like that, I had the money to go to two sessions. I suppose Mom had to drive me out to their house every day until the job was done. It was 5 or 6 miles away which seemed like a long distance at the time.

Also that year, Comstock decided to start a brand-new unit called Pioneer-Primitive. It was going to be carved out of the forest by campers. There was a clearing and a small pavilion with a concrete floor, but girl power was going to do everything else. I signed up.

However, when I arrived at camp at the beginning of the second session, I learned that I had been assigned to Buccaneer because I was so young (a year younger than other kids in my grade) . That unit had Adirondack shelters- very similar to this one (which is on the North Country Trail). There weren't bunks, just floors.

The Buccaneer song was: "B-U-C, B-U-C, B-U-C-C-A-N-E, B-U-C-C-A-N-E-E-R-S spells Buccaneers. Buccaneers, Buccaneers, been in Scouting many years. Sailing o'er the lakes of blue, wait and it will soon be you."

But, I simply could not believe this was happening to me. I'm not saying that I couldn't be manipulative when I wanted to be, but my reaction was absolute heartbreak. Campers arrived on Sunday afternoons, and I think I began to cry pretty soon after we got our unit assignments, and I know I cried all night. I think my mother was called, although that memory might be hazy.

Is there any grief greater than that of a 12-year old whose dreams have just been dashed? For today, I will leave you at the scene with me sobbing in my bedroll.

In other news: I did a little bit on every one of my projects today. I wonder how long I can keep this up. So far, the house hasn't self-destructed back into the appearance of the aftermath of a hurricane. I'm never sure that it won't do that without provocation. Houses seem quite skittish.

See Merrymen Unit

Camp Comstock - 1959 - Merrymen Unit

  After Frontier Unit, the next summer, regular campers went either to Viking or Merrymen. I was put in Merrymen. It was 1959 and I had just finished 6th grade. Merrymen had platform tents instead of shelters. I did write down the first names of these girls: Carol, Karen and Judy. But I must never have interacted with them again after those two weeks. I have no idea who they are.

My memories of Merrymen are very sketchy. It was camp, so it was great, but I did not really make any friends. We were all on the brink of junior high, but as you know, I had no interest in being a junior high girl.

The counselors, as always, were college girls. This is Sol and Soapy.

This is Skeeter. I sort of remember her a bit. She wasn't as girly as the other two, so I liked her. Notice the camp uniform: white shirt, green Girl Scout shorts, green knee socks, and the unit tie. Each unit had its own color.

One of the best things about not being in the Frontier (tenderfoot) Unit was that you got to do some more interesting things. Way at the north end of the camp property was a cave. It was called Fossil Cave. Of course, this is New York shale. There were fossils everywhere. I came home with pockets full every year. But it was a full-day adventure to hike to the cave and explore. We went as a unit, with packed lunches, and got to fool around.

Of course, the waterfront was a huge part of the daily activities. I was still stuck in Green Caps (intermediate) because I could not manage to get the "scissor" out of my frog kick. The docks are pretty much the same to this day, although I'm sure the actual structure has been replaced. You can see the buddy board. There were sets of round dogtags that you pinned on your swimsuit. When a buddy check was called, you had to quickly join up with the other girl with the same number as you, hold hands and lift them high out of the water. This is an easy safety check. It could still be used for all I know.

I was disappointed that Merrymen still had to use rowboats. I really wanted to learn to canoe! Now, I'm glad that I DO know how to maneuver a rowboat, although it's sure not a skill I use very often.

The song of the Merrymen was: "We are the Merrymen, jolly-o, Merrymen. We come from Comstock as you all may know. As for the work we do, we leave it up to you. We're the merry, merrymen. We're not so slow, Ho!"

Just to record it, although I never was in Viking, that song was: "Vikings are we, for we love the sea, and we sing and dance so merrily. And we never mind the weather, just as long as we're together, we are sea-birds of a feather, Vikings are we."

Incidentally, Marie and I did not meet until the following summer, but we just missed each other in 1959. She always went to camp for 2nd session, and I went to 3rd session. She was also in Merrymen that year, but we were staggered by two weeks.

So, what was I like in 1959? Well. Ugh. I was awkward and confused. Because I was so good at school studies, teachers always liked me. But in 6th grade, the teacher that started the year got pregnant and took a leave. She was replaced by a man who did not like me. I guess he thought I was more of a smart aleck than smart. I didn't really know how to deal with that.

We had school pictures taken every other year. This is me in 6th grade. I have the fake front teeth (see link below). I was put back in glasses for a while.

Here's another picture of me from the summer of 1959. I'm showing you this one because there is a story that goes with that jumpsuit. Mom had actually purchased new fabric to make that for me. It was off-white with little drawings of people on old fashioned bicyles. I really liked it. That fall, I begged and begged to wear it to school with a skirt over it (of course, we had to wear skirts). Mom finally relented, but gave me a serious lecture about not ruining it. I was really hard on clothes as you can imagine. At recess, I sat on the wooden bleachers and didn't play any games at all so I wouldn't damage that suit. At the end of recess, I slipped getting off the bleachers, caught it on a rough spot, and came home with a triangular tear in the shoulder. You know how happy my mother was. I doubt she ever believed my story, but it was true. It was mended, and seemed fine to me, but I know Mom was sensitive about sending me to school in patched clothes.

So, here I was, aged 11, and heading into 7th grade. When gifts were called for, people were giving me gifts for a "young lady." I wanted jackknives, a horse, and books. Sigh.

One other really nice thing happened that summer, though. There was a Fireman's Carnival every year, and I took a bunch of pictures. This one, taken from the top of the ferris wheel, was printed in the local paper. My first published work.

In other news: I got boxes of stuff lined up to go to recycle this week, and I took a first shot at recording my books for audiobooks. If I have to pay a narrator, I'll never make a cent. I may be able to do it well enough.

See 1958- Frontier Unit See the entire series about Camp Comstock

In My Natural Habitat

  All that happened today was that I worked on finances and bookwork, and I managed to get about 2 square feet more floor space clear in the living room. The amount of stuff to sort here is staggering.

So, I'll play "Throwback Thursday" and amuse you with one of my favorite pictures of me from long ago. This one got nicknamed "Joan in her natural habitat." I believe I was 14 when this was taken. I was cooking dinner for the family on an open fire in our backyard. I am wearing a sailor hat. For some reason, I liked it for about 3 years in high school. You may recall that I detest hats now, and have for my entire adult life. I think that hat got associated with camp, and that's why I liked it.

I need to get some empty boxes to pack up the video tapes. Maybe tomorrow.

Perhaps I should pick up the stories of Camp Comstock which got put on hold as I got ready for my big hike. They would be more interesting than how many piles of garbage I've combed through.

See Time's Up

Camp Comstock 1958, Frontier Unit

  Tonight, I'll take you back to Camp Comstock. We'll talk about my first year at the overnight camp. This was the summer of 1958, and I'd just finished 5th grade. There were huge changes going on in my life.

Let's clear up one detail right away. These pictures are nothing wonderful. Their only claim to fame is that they are authentic. I had gotten a Brownie Camera for my birthday in April, so suddenly I was the one taking the pictures. I'm not in any of the camp pictures. I did find a couple from that school year, and I'll stick them at the end. This was labeled "the girls of the Frontier Unit."

I'm not sure what the cluster of people on the left is doing. This might have been some kind of first aid drill, since it looks as if there is someone on the ground. You can see Cayuga Lake in the background. And it sure looks like we had just had rain. (see note about Duchess)

Frontier was the first unit everyone went to. It was located on Crowbar Point at the southern boundary of Comstock. If you walked past that point, you entered Camp Bailiwick (see link below for the explanation of all this if you missed the earlier post and if you care). It wasn't until years later when I was a counselor at Bailiwick that I really understood you could connect the camps on foot. As campers we were definitely not allowed to stray.

Here's the campfire circle at the Frontier Unit. The lane leads north to the Lodge. Every girl in Frontier was either ten or eleven years old, and had just finished fifth grade. Somewhere, I have another picture of Crowbar Point from that unit, but I could not locate it today. It shows the Adirondack (three-sided) shelters. They had roll-down canvas fronts and standard metal camp bunk beds. This was one of the two cushiest units in the whole camp. I guess they wanted us to have a little more comfort since it was the first extended time away from home for most of us. The camp session lasted two weeks.

Here are my counselors that year. Pixi and Tommy taking a pose.

And Duchess. Of course, we never knew their real names. In the picture above you can see that Pixi is holding a ukelele. I'm sure at least half of the counselors played a ukulele. Probably most of them had instantly learned how when they were hired. How else would so many college girls have known how to play a ukulele?

I do remember Duchess. She knew lots of songs. Of course, almost all the camp songs were new to us that summer. Maybe we had sung a few of them in our troop meetings. Most of them were Girl Scout standards like "Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold." Of course that should be sung in a round. I remember huddling in our Adirondack shelter with the canvas front rolled down against the wind and rain while Duchess taught us "Tammy," a popular hit of 1957 which was actually nominated for Best Song, but I didn't know that!

As I continue this series, you'll get a tour of the units at Comstock. Each one had a song. This is how the one for Frontier went:
We live way down on Crowbar in a unit called Frontier. Where everybody wishes they could come back each year. We work, we sing, we play. We learn more every day. Oh, Frontier, Frontier, down on Crowbar, we know you're best by far."

We ate almost all our meals at the lodge (although I'm pretty sure even the little squirts on Frontier were allowed to cook out a few meals). I don't have a picture of the lodge from that year. But you'll see more of it later. The units would often have contests to see who could sing their song the loudest.

My album says this is Jay, the Assistant Director of the camp that summer. It amazes me to think that these counselors, who were barely more than kids themselves, have to be in their 80s if they are still alive. I wonder if they knew how much they were changing little lives.

As I said, it was a year of many changes for me. The previous summer, when I was nine, is the year I felt as if I grew up. My first dog had been killed in the road, which nearly did me in. My Granny moved to the town I lived in because my mother needed to take a job. That meant I now had to spend school days in town with Granny til Mom got home from work.

This did not go well. The grandmother I'd always adored, and who adored me, turned out to be pretty horrible. She wanted a little girl who would dote on her, and what she was stuck with was a 150% tomboy who wanted to jump off roofs and build fires.

In the fall of fifth grade, I broke my two front teeth off on the gym floor. Of course, they were my permanent teeth, so I spent a lot of that year in a dentist's chair which included having the nerves burned out of those broken teeth. Fun. Then I got glasses, which I proceeded to break about once a month because I was so rough and tumble. I had a bunch of warts burned off my feet. I also found out that I was going to have to wear orthopedic shoes, maybe forever.

And at the end of 5th grade, just before camp, Mom switched eye doctors and he said I didn't need glasses, but I did have amblyopia- lazy eye. So, days before I went to Comstock, only my second time away from home for more than a couple of days, I started wearing a patch over my right eye, the good one. The upshot of that was that I could see almost nothing. But I wasn't about to admit that! I remember starting camp and just barely being able to follow the road out to the Frontier Unit. I quickly learned that it was a great aid in getting people to feel sorry for me.

Interestingly enough, the sight in my left eye improved very quickly. It started just before Comstock at 20/200, and at the end of the summer was up to 20/30. I do know that within a few days, I was easily finding my way around camp and not having any trouble participating in the activities. We got to build fires without sneaking around to do it (I won the fire-building contest). We took swimming lessons (I was distressed that I was only a green cap that summer- which meant intermediate swimmer). We earned badges, we learned to row a boat (and were promised to learn how to canoe if we came back another year), we studied first aid, we did crafts, we sang and sang, we hiked, and we had campfires in the evening. No dresses were involved.

I knew I was in heaven. These two weeks of every summer at Comstock became my safe place. I could be "me," and no one taunted me, or told me to act like a girl.

Now for the Joan of 1958. Actually, this is 1957- first day of school for 5th grade. I remember this dress. It was actually one of my favorites. The darker portion was a blue-gray. It only looks like a jumper and blouse; it was all one garment. I'm wearing saddle shoes, so I hadn't yet gotten the orthopedic ones. I still have my own teeth.

I did find one other picture from 1957-58. I'm in the swing my dad installed in the cherry tree for me. I don't remember this dress at all, but the moccasins I have on were ones I made from a kit. They were some early form of vinyl, laced with plastic boondogle cord. I loved making things! Look how big my feet were! They were the same size they are now, which is actually quite small, but I hadn't yet grown into them. I was certainly all elbows and knees.

Don't spend time wondering about the dresses. Girls had to wear dresses to school back then, so I'm wearing one in a lot of pictures. But when I was on my own time, I'd already discovered blue jeans.

So now you've heard about my introduction to Camp Comstock. The next year's installment will appear on some slow blog news day in the future. There are a few places/people in my life that I describe as "they saved my life." I do not say that lightly, and Camp Comstock is one of those places.

In other news: I edited, I wrote a chapter, and I did a whole lot of putter-y things in the trailer. That included a run to Wal-Mart (which I hate) for three things I can only get there. They did not have any of them. Bother. So there will be yet another Amazon order in my future.

See Comstock and Bailiwick

The Child's World Encyclopia

 
I've been doing the 7 day book challenge on Facebook. But I've been wanting to tell you about these books anyway. Since I had to hunt them up to get the picture for FB, it was a good day to put them here too.

First of all, I guess this post is going to include a little bragging. At least I think that's how some people will see it. For me, it's just a fact, although I quickly learned that it was a fact that made me lots different from everyone else my age.

Here is the set of books, a children's encyclopedia called The Child's World. They were published in 1950, and I was given the set in 1952, when I was 4 years old.



The first volume is "Stories of Childhood." I'm including one picture from each volume. There were various types of illustrations. I've pictured an example of most kinds. Some of the pages had full color pictures. This was a delightful story about a horse that wouldn't go anywhere without its favorite hat. But there were a lot of traditional familiar stories as well.



Volume 2 is "People and Great Deeds." This is basically history. Here is a page from the story of Sacajawea.



Next was "Plant and Animal Ways." So here we introduce biology. There are lots of color pictures of various kinds of birds, mammals, insects reptiles, and various kinds of plants, in addition to all the black and white illustrations. Almost every spread has some illustration. I chose a picture of a map that shows migratory bird routes.



Volume 4 is "The World and its Wonders." This includes all sorts of science lessons. Each book has a number of full-color plates of extraordinary detail. I'm showing you one from this volume because I think I spent more time studying this picture than any other in the entire set of books. I was amazed at everything that went on inside one thin leaf.



Next is "Countries and their Children," which is cultural studies. It takes the reader to places around the world showing how people live and play, their art and customs. Here is a photo of Asian art works.



Volume 6 was for the parents, but I read it anyway. It's called "Mother's Guide." It's basically a guide to child rearing.



OK, here's the odd fact. I could read when I was two. I was already tired of Golden Books by the time I was 4.

Now for a story. I remember the day Granny brought me these books. I remember sitting on the floor and reading. The part I do not remember is my mother's perspective. She told me this long after I was grown. Apparently, they could not get me away from those books. I read for hours and hours and would not even stop to eat lunch.

I do know that I enjoyed reading these books on my own for several more years, and I also liked having them read to me because I could ask more questions that the articles didn't answer.

Gotta admit... I teared up a little bit at getting these books out and looking through them. These are probably the most influential books of my childhood.

See Best Books Read in 2011