Nancy Drew

When I was a young girl, I adored reading Nancy Drew stories.  I'm pretty sure my mother got me started because mom's can be cool that way.  Reading is one of the nicest things you can do for a child.  I don't know how old I was when I first starting reading the series, but I amassed quite the collection over the years of my childhood.  I'd read them over and over, again and again, never tiring of the scintillating captivating exciting riveting stories of Nancy and her posse.  I'd read them in the bathtub.  Under the covers at night when I was supposed to be sleeping.  In the car on family trips.  Nestled in the "Y" high up in the willow tree.  Anywhere and everywhere.  The matching yellow-covered books lined the shelf in my room.  Always in order:  Volumes 1 through 30.  Visually pleasing, also.

As I got older, I moved on to reading other things.  More age appropriate and such.  But I still had those books lining my shelves.  And it still brought me great satisfaction to see them there.

When I moved out of my parent's house, I, as many departing children often do, left behind some of my possessions.  After all, isn't a parent's house a permanent storage unit in which to keep the things you don't want to haul around from place to place to place?  Stuff you don't want to get rid of but you don't necessarily need?  That's right, of course it is.  At least for a while.

But then my folks announced they were moving!  Oh the horror!  And it would get worse.  Before they moved they had a yard sale.  Because that is what one does before one moves.

I'm not sure how much time passed between their yard sale and an ensuing conversation with my mom.  It was before they actually moved.  And somehow my Nancy Drew collection came up.  Maybe you can feel it coming.  I sure didn't.  They had sold my Nancy Drew books at the yard sale!  OMG!  I actually cried.  There I was, 19 years old, crying because the Nancy Drew collection I adored throughout my childhood but hadn't looked at for years had been sold out from under me.  I think my mom cried too.  Because she hadn't considered how special those books were to me.

Fast forward to maybe three years later.  We were visiting my folk's new home in Norfolk, Virginia for the holidays.  Christmas morning dawned.  Maybe you can feel it coming.  I sure didn't.  I unwrapped a heavy box from Santa and inside... ayup!  A whole collection of Nancy Drew, Volumes 1-30!  The same familiar books with the same familiar yellow covers with the same familiar cheesy pictures on the covers and the same familiar stories inside.

So I've got a collection of Nancy Drew mysteries, Volumes 1-30, that I'll haul around with me forever.  And display on my bookshelves always.  Because mom's can be cool that way.  Like mine.