i don’t remember my favorite childhood author.  that’s a good thing. actually, that’s probably a great thing.  when i was at my parents’ house not too long ago, i saw the sea-green-colored spine of are you my mother and thought, ‘ah, sometime around there, the good times began.’ or that would be my assumption.  for all i know, good times began three years before then.



i can remember some of my favorite books from when i was young-young, and then i can remember books i liked in early elementary school, later elementary school, junior high… which book was my favorite, though, or who was my favorite author is one answer i don’t have.

and that’s a good thing.