If Mrs. Jacobs was alive today, Taylor Swift would be living in her neighborhood. One summer, the project at Sunnymede, her summer “cottage” was to sit on the divan while one of her new friends (a sycophantic historian who, out of earshot of Mrs. Jacobs and her housemate, Ms. Kimbrough, made frequent references to how close to the hereafter they were), re-arranged their library.
Mr. Dennis Brown (not his real name (yes, it is)), would read off titles and the delighted women would call out: Fiction! Poetry! History! and, most miraculously of all: Friends’ Shelf!!
I had been reading aloud to Mrs. Jacobs for several years before the summer of Mr. Dennis Brown. It had ceased to surprise me that she knew people like Indira Gandhi, John F. Kennedy, Leontyne Price, Bowzer from Sha Na Na (okay, that surprised me). But the idea that she knew enough writers to fill a shelf?! Easier to believe that, one day, we could talk face to cyber-face with a loved one on another continent. There she sat, almost completely blind by then, announcing, time after time: Friends’ Shelf! while I, temporarily squelching the nausea Mr. Dennis Brown’s company inspired in me, gaped.
Oh, Mrs. Jacobs, my one true friend for many a Misquamicut-slash-Watch Hill summer. Here is yet another reason why it’s tricky to befriend octogenarians when you are barely old enough to sit at a bar legally. Because when you finally have a Friends’ Shelf in your much more modest library, to whom can you express your gratitude and your disbelief?!
There are other things I do to honor the memory of this friendship, but keeping my Friends’ Shelf is my favorite because, along with marriage and motherhood, with seeing my name on a book spine, this kind of thing came under the heading: To Dream the Impossible Dream. It also comes under the heading: Not Only Do They Walk Among Us, You Can Have a Beer With Them.
Imagine the realization that writers are a) living, b) mortals, and c) people you hug upon greeting!! Sometimes, I can’t believe my luck.
As Wilbur the pig tells us, “It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.” And so, I honor the following wordsmiths on my shelf. First, old friends Rebecca Kinzie Bastian, Charms for Finding (poetry); Sarah Yaw, You Are Free to Go (fiction); Holly Robinson, The Gerbil Farmer’s Daughter (memoir); Haven Lake (fiction); The Wishing Hill (fiction); Chance Harbor (fiction); Beach Plum Island (fiction); Brian Kologe, AMC Guide to Freshwater Fishing; and new friends, Betty Cotter, Roberta’s Woods (fiction); The Winters (fiction); Kirun Kapur, Visiting Indira Gandhi’s Palmist (poetry); Jane Ward, Hunger (fiction) and The Mosaic Artist (fiction); Myfanwy Collins, The Book of Laney (YA); Cathy Chung, Forgotten Country; and many other writers I’ve been happy to meet along the way .
What about you? Who’s on your Friends’ Shelf?