I awoke this morning almost ten minutes before my alarm was to go off. The 2nd half of season 1 of “Türkisch für Anfänger” had finished encoding overnight. I checked my email, showered, packed my things, had a glass of soy milk, and rushed out to catch the 7:52 #38 to campus (Charter & Linden). I got to read a chapter or two of The Secret Garden on the ride; I only had to wait until the capitol to get a seat.
The Secret Garden was the first “long” book I read back in the 3rd grade; the edition I had at the time was around 300 some pages, and the one I checked out of the library the other day is about 290. It was always the “garden” of The Secret Garden that fascinated and stuck with me, so rereading it now is truly a fresh experience because I’m seemingly coming to the non-garden things new, as if I hadn’t read them before, even though know that I once did …
I found the book in the PZ section of 2 North, in a row or two of what must be children’s literature and books for adolescents; I am tempted to search for my “favorite” elementary school book. I used to love animal stories, which leaves me still disappointed that I did not take immediately to The Call of the Wild in the 7th grade. It had less to do with the novel and more with me, in particular with the fact that I was a bit lazy at doing “homework” — I think that my shift to sci-fi and fantasy at that (st)age is of minimal importance. In any case, in elementary school I so loved dog and wolf stories that when it came to books as gifts for my birthday or x-mas, that’s what people got me. I have one, Jim Kielgaard’s Stormy, that I haven’t yet read, more than two decades later.
There was this one book in the library at Mary McPherson that I swear nobody else had checked out for years, since long before I arrived. It had been rebound, and the title was no longer to be found on its cover. It was black, a sort of faded, worn black, but still black and not gray. And I’m not certain right now of the title — it’s a part of the book that I have forgotten — but I want to say that it was Blackie or similar. In any case, it was a (in the end[ing]) sad story about a black wolf, perhaps orphaned and adopted by another pack. Blackie (that’s what I’ll name him for now) was an outsider, and I had a thing at that age for protagonists who were a bit “out there,” not quite mainstream … but this is nothing new, and all the best children’s fiction is populated by such figures. Pippi Longstocking. I loved Encyclopedia Brown and detective figures who set themselves apart, usually through their brains.
In any case … back to Blackie, in title or protagonist one of my favorite early elementary school novels, before I then moved to fantasy and myth and Susan Cooper. I have so little to go on, but it’s tempting to use the library resources available to me find it.
And this I mentioned to my brother this afternoon, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I arrived in the department, got online, did some work, and put the finishing touches on the first exam. I printed a copy but noticed that the font was far too small, so I was going to prepare a better copy, but then, with less than half an hour before class, Anne arrived to give a report about her group’s progress, and I helped her formulate ideas for a DDR/GDR presentation. That left me no time to re-print, and so I made 15 copies of the tiny-type exam.
I grabbed the Battenberg, and luck was with me for an elevator arrived. I cut and served the cake, the bell rang, and I handed out the exam. I doodled and read more of The Secret Garden. The bell rang again and still a few were finishing, several of the “writing too much, proofing too much” variety, one of the “a bit slower than the others” sort, and two who did not bother reading the instructions (which said, in the first section, do three of six), so they wrote twice as much as necessary.
Taking the last of the cake I made my way to the elevator, where I saw Kjerstin, to whom I have half a slice of Battenberg, and once I got to the 8th floor the final bit of a slice went to Regina, who remarked that it was a bit dry. Well, it had been sitting out, exposed, for an hour. It had been quite moist.
Once my things were packed I headed down the hill, dropped off The Rule of Four at Memorial and met Mike near the Mediterranean, which was packed, so we went to Amy’s instead and I had a chicken wrap and some broccoli-cheddar soup. After talking a while — it looks as if Mike will be leaving the hostel by mid-summer, and he’s contemplating options — we moseyed to Fair Trade and along the way I mentioned wanting to look for the “Blackie” novel. Near the coffee shop we ran into his director or activities or whatever she does, Taylor, with whom we spoke for a few minutes before she continued on to the Community Pharmacy and we got our cups of Joe.
I demonstrated and explained Content Management Systems (CMSes) to him as well as some other web development options.
Once he left I stuck around, finished my coffee, wrote, and did a bit of not entirely satisfactory people watching.
This evening was an episode of Lost that actually helped to move the overall plot forward and which was also infused with an interestingly human touch.
I made a cheesecake and it’s in the refrigerator. I’m still on “M” and still on Madonna.
