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Ellen
Howard
Photo courtesy of Ms.
Howard's website.
They still sit on my shelf, those six weighty black
tomes that opened the world of books to me: MY BOOK
HOUSE edited by Olive Beaupre Miller and published
in 1921. Well, actually only five of them were a part
of my childhood. The first volume had disappeared on
the day of my mother's seventh birthday party in 1928.
She assumes it went home with one of the guests and
mourns its loss to this day.
My grandmother bought MY BOOK HOUSE, an anthology
of great literature, for her own tree children, spending
money that should have gone for food. I wonder if she
realized at the time what food she was providing for
their minds and hearts, and not just theirs, but ours-her
grandchildren.
It was in MY BOOK HOUSE that I met the Princess
on the Glass Hill, and Snow White and Rose Red and their
marvelous bear. It was in MY BOOK HOUSE that
I leaned that "Cinderella" was told in Korea
as "Pigling" and on the walls of an Egyptian
tomb as "Rhodopsis and the Golden Sandals."
It was in MY BOOK HOUSE that I played on the
shore with David Cooperfield and Little Em'ly
and first journeyed homeward with Ulysses. It
was in these pages that I appreciated the distinguished
life of my hero, Louisa May Alcott, and resolved someday
to write stories as good, as enthralling as hers.
Some years ago, my aunt found at a garage sale a first
volume of MY BOOK HOUSE, a slightly later edition,
bound in green, not black, and missing its full-color
cover illustration. So now my set stands complete, waiting
perhaps for some other child to discover the treasure
in its pages, to discover literature.
Ellen Howard
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