This is poetry month, and most of us have more time to observe it than usual. I have always taken the designation as an excuse to read extra poetry. This year with the extra time, I’m trying my hand at writing some. 

Shock and grief hit the world of children’s book readers and writers this week in the death of Tomie de Paola. The lovable little guy became a literary giant among children, teachers, and writers. 

Spring triggered curiosity with seven-year-old Benjamin as he turned over a rotten log and discovered a slug. He brought the animal to show me on his open palm and introduced the animal as “Slimy.”

On her recent visit, my sister Ruth recommended a compelling book she was reading on the plane. Then she went further and sent it to me when she got home! 

CDC, WHO, and the media have brought on a turning of the tables by our youngest son, aided and abetted by our DIL, who live next door. Al and I are grounded in the pictured place until further notice. 

One of the disappointing losses with the cancelling of the Fay B. Kaigler Book Festival was the visit by this year’s USM Medallion award winner for her body of work, Rita Williams-Garcia. 

What began as an adjustment for our voting place turned into an adventure on March 10. 

As my inbox fills up with cancellations with this coronavirus outbreak, some hurt more than others. Top of the list is a tie between the Kaigler Book Festival and the JambaLAya Writers Conference. 

There are few things that can bring on as many mixed feelings for me as technology. A recent news item showing a writer who still uses a typewriter looked absolutely archaic and brought tender feelings toward my computer. 

Knowing her love of reading, Carrel’s son asked which book, of all the ones she had promoted over the years, she would like him to read aloud to her.

I recently took an interesting challenge to write about myself at fifteen and then as I am today.

When you start with a good English mystery set in a historical time and throw in a bit of romance, you have hope of an excellent read. Charles Finch makes good on that promise in The Last Passenger published on February 18. 

Grandson Benjamin asked me a hard question, “Grandma, when did you start liking books?” Truthfully, that goes back beyond my memory, although I remember loving books long before I could read.

The prologue to Robert Dugoni’s murder mystery that is just out this week, A Cold Trail, begins in Cedar Grove, Washington in 1993. “Heather Johansen wiped her tears and the driving rain that blurred her vision and ran down her face.” 

In the advertising for the annual Fay B. Kaigler Book Festival at the University of Southern Mississippi each spring, special writers and illustrators are touted along with great and meaningful breakout sessions that enhance experiences with children’s and young adult books. 

As Valentine’s Day approached, Facebook picked up an appropriate memory from four years ago. The two youngest grandchildren lived in DC at the time and loved crafting with colored Styrofoam shapes. They had a huge project of making designs with Valentine hearts. 

Elizabeth Acevedo doesn’t need my accolades for her book The Poet X since she has already won the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature, the Michael L. Printz Award, and the Pura Belpré Award, but my blog readers need to know not to miss this book if they enjoy young adult literature.

My young adult friend Tina, who had known us and our children for several years, had a question. She had been paying attention as our nest had emptied with our youngest two children heading to college a year apart. “Virginia, are you really this happy or is this a front?”

Leaving the theater after seeing the current version of Little Women, my daughter-in-law and I discussed the perennial question of which character we identified with, and she brought up an interesting point. 

Nothing brings on the need for a Pity Party like a sheet of paper with the heading “INSTRUCTIONS FOR SCALING/ROOT PLANING PATIENTS” from the periodontist. I’ve been in this predicament enough times that I’ve become an expert at making plans.