Author: Peg Kehret

Today I fixed a salad for lunch, and used the white plastic bowl. I have many lovely pottery and china bowls but I chose the old plastic one because it holds, along with my lunch, happy memories.

On one of our motorhome trips I spoke at a school where the staff provided a potluck lunch. I’ve found that most teachers are good cooks, and Carl always loved it when we were invited to share a meal with educators. I don’t recall which school this was, or even what state we were in. I do remember that someone had brought a salad that Carl and I both raved about. When we prepared to leave that day, the teacher who had brought the yummy salad asked if we would like to take the leftover salad with us. Naturally, we accepted. 

She put the salad in a white plastic bowl. I offered to go get a container from the motorhome but she insisted the bowl was “just a cheap old thing” and sent us off with it. Well, that bowl IS a cheap old thing but every time I use it, I remember those happy days of traveling with my husband, talking to hundreds of excited kids, and sharing meals with generous teachers and librarians.

I could happily be a fulltime student. I love to take classes. I like to study, to write papers, to learn new things. I’ve never minded tests. I have studied all my life.

I am currently enrolled in the Green River Community College for a semester of Spanish. I’m looking forward to learning a new language and to practicing it with my grandkids, who are way ahead of me in foreign language skills.

For many years I’ve belonged to a group called L.I.F.E., Learning Is ForEver. These are older folks, like me, who organize and attend classes on a variety of topics. A few years ago, a neurologist and I, both polio survivors, gave a class on polio. The next one that I’m signed up for is a presentation about the Prison Pet Partnership, which teaches women inmates to groom and train service dogs. I wrote about one of their dogs, a seizure-alert dog, in Shelter Dogs: Amazing Stories of Adopted Strays.  I’m also registered for a L.I.F.E. class/concert on harp music.

I’m looking into an animal training institute that uses only positive reinforcement, never punishment. The class that interests me is called Barky Dog Workshop. You will have to ask Lucy why I might want to take that particular one.

Some of my favorite gifts have been small, inexpensive items. On my last birthday, my granddaughter, Brett, sent me a package that contained, among other things, a Whitman College pencil. She is a freshman at Whitman so every time I pick up that pencil I think of her and remember when I visited the campus with her last summer.

About two years ago, my friend, Jenny, attached a leather loop to the handle of my cane. When my hand is through the loop, I can let go of the handle without having the cane fall to the floor. This comes in handy when I’m shopping or if I need to open a door when my other hand is full. Each time the cane dangles from the loop on my wrist, I mentally thank Jenny.

Another friend, Myra, knit me a big orange carrot. It has eyes and green dreadlocks. It hangs from my pencil sharpener and I laugh every time I sharpen a pencil.

The pencil holder on my desk is a coffee mug that looks like tree bark. There’s a yellow smiley face on the front of it. Many years ago, my family went camping on Mother’s Day weekend. My kids were about eight and ten and as we sat around the campfire, cooking our breakfast, they gave me that mug. It was a wonderful Mother’s Day gift and when I look at it I am transported back in time to Deception Pass State Park, and I feel like a young mother again.

My home is filled with small, treasured gifts.  They help to make it a home, rather than merely a house.

It is thundering as I write this, so Lucy is on my lap. I try to reassure and comfort her but she is trembling with fear and looks around wildly each time there’s another clap of thunder. Molly glares out the window as if she is ordering Mother Nature to cut it out.

Lucy’s fear seems unnecessary, even foolish, to those who know that thunder won’t hurt her, but her fear is real and no matter how many times I tell her, “It’s okay,” she clearly doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t know what that loud noise is and, therefore, she’s scared of it.

We humans also fear the unknown. For us it may be a person from a different background or someone of another race. Elderly people sometimes look with suspicion at teens, and people of certain religions view anyone with different beliefs as dangerous. We don’t quake and pant as Lucy does, but we too often back away from unfamiliar people or concepts without giving them a chance. This is one reason why I think it’s important to read widely. Books expose us to fresh viewpoints. With fiction, we meet characters who are unlike the people in our daily lives. With nonfiction we learn about ideas and lifestyles that we wouldn’t ordinarily encounter. The more we are exposed to those unlike ourselves, the less afraid of them we are.

When a teacher has read one of my books to the class and then has the kids write me letters, I enjoy reading and responding to them, especially when the letters are mailed as a group, not individually. Of course, I always love to get the genuine fan letters written not as a class assignment but because someone truly likes my work.

Recently I’ve been swamped with letters from students (56 of them yesterday) who say they are writing to me as a way to learn the proper way to write a letter. The problem is that they hope for a response and I simply don’t have time to answer them all.

I think there is a better way for teachers to handle this. Why not have the students write to someone who is serving in the armed forces? Or write letters to the elderly in a local nursing home. There are many lonely people who would be pleased to receive a letter from a child. It’s an opportunity to teach compassion, which is even more important than knowing the right way to write a letter.

A young reader told me that she loves my books and wants to read all of them, but currently she is not allowed to read anything else of mine because her teacher thinks she needs variety and therefore must read other authors. This made me sad and angry. I would be just as upset if the teacher had told this child she could not read any more books by Andrew Clements or Lois Lowry or any other author, but had to branch out and read Peg Kehret.

This child is reading for pleasure. We should rejoice and encourage her, not limit her choices. I can assure this teacher that I can not write books as fast as a child can read them. Very soon, this girl would run out of my titles and at that point she would choose a different author. Maybe she’d find another one that she likes. Perhaps then she would be bingeing on Richard Peck or David Patneaude. It doesn’t matter! In the long run, if this student is allowed to choose her own reading material, she will get variety. She would actually get a variety of topics and themes even if she read only one of the authors I’ve mentioned, including me.

I keep a list of all the books I read, jotting the title and author in a spiral notebook. After reading this child’s letter, I looked back through my list to see how often I’d gone on a book binge of reading one author. I found several examples. In Dec., 1993, I read G is for Gumshoe by Sue Grafton. In the next two months, I read Grafton’s A, B, C, D, E and F titles. Does that mean I didn’t read anything but Sue Grafton mysteries from then on? Of course not. All it did was bring me up to date so that when the H title came out, I was ready to fully enjoy it. There were similar binges when I first discovered Anne Tyler and Alexander McCall Smith.

I don’t think devouring everything by a particular author makes me a less discerning reader. The first time I read one of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels, I laughed out loud. I immediately got the first book in the series and began reading them in order. By the time I reached #10, I was bored with the same old plot devices. I wanted some character growth. I wanted Stephanie to learn from her mistakes. When it didn’t happen, I quit reading the series.

Much as I enjoy bingeing on a favorite author, the books that have stars beside them in my notebook are all, with the exception of Julia Spencer-Fleming’s wonderful series, stand-alone titles. I’m stingy with my stars, giving them only to books that I truly loved. I’ve given two stars in the last six months, to Lottery by Patricia Wood and to The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery.

I have no problem with assigning specific books that every student in the class is supposed to read, but telling a child she can not read any more books by a particular author is a censorship that I believe is wrong.

Yesterday I did an on-air telephone interview with a TV station in Tallahassee, Florida. The program is Kids Read and yesterday their topic was The Ghost’s Grave.  It sounds exciting and glamorous to be interviewed on live TV, but here is the reality:  In the middle of the interview, while I was answering questions, I heard my cat, Molly, throwing up in the kitchen. Retch, retch, urp, urp. Every cat owner recognizes that awful sound. Lucy, my dog, heard it, too. Yip! Bark! Toenails skittered on the floor as she rushed to the scene. Lucy had been sitting next to me so her barking got broadcast.  I tried not to think about what was going on in the kitchen as I continued the interview.

All authors hope that their books will last. I like to think that some of mine will be in print decades from now. Maybe my great-grandchildren will be able to browse in a book store and find my titles – still available, still selling, still worth reading. The reality, of course, is that most books go out of print fairly quickly.

Some of my books have had staying power; others have not. My first book, Vows of Love and Marriage, was published in 1979. Ten years later it was revised and updated, and published as Wedding Vows. New brides and grooms come along every year, planning their weddings, so there is a steady market. My second book had a print run of only 1500 copies and was never reprinted. Apparently there is more interest in getting married than there is in Refinishing and Restoring Your Piano.

My first book for young people, Winning Monologs for Young Actors, remains in print and continues to have steady sales. It was first published in 1985. Other books have not fared as well. Some, such as my Frightmares series, got caught in publisher mergers beyond my control. Others simply did not generate enough sales. I’ve never been able to predict which titles will be popular and which won’t. One book that I especially like, The Richest Kids in Town, went out of print after only a few years, while my least favorite of my own books (which I won’t name) is still going strong.

I began thinking about this topic because I’ve been using my rhyming dictionary a lot this week. The title is actually The Complete Rhyming Dictionary, published by Doubleday and edited by Clement Wood. I’ve had my copy for over thirty years. Today I looked to see when it had been published. 1936!  The year I was born.

I hope some of my books are still being read seventy-two years after I write them.

My valentine collection is displayed all around my house this week. The big Raggedy Andy doll who sits on a red chair by my front door is holding a much-decorated pink heart made of construction paper and lettered in crayon, “To Papa from Brett. Happy Valentine’s Day 1997.” Brett is my oldest granddaughter; she was seven when she made that valentine for my husband. Other handmade valentines from grandchildren are also treasured, including a terrific poem that Eric wrote for me two years ago.

My oldest valentines are two that my husband’s mother made for her parents when she was fourteen, in 1928. They are decorated with paper doilies. Each contains a poem that she wrote. Today’s teens would find her words syrupy and sentimental, which only adds to their charm.

Other valentines were bought one at a time at various antique shops or thrift stores. Some are dated on the back with the year and place they were purchased. Most have either animal or musical themes and the illustrations are definitely old-fashioned. A dog with a bass drum says, “I want your heart to go Boom! Boom!” Three kittens play instruments (one is an accordian) on a card that says simply, “A Valentine Song.”

One favorite has a small carrot-shaped button attached. It says, “I don’t ‘carrot’ all for the rest of the bunch, but I’m growing fond of you.”  Given my last name, that one is perfect for me!

Valentine’s Day is about love. Carl, the love of my life, is no longer here but the wonderful feelings remain, as do the happy memories.  Yesterday I had lunch with my good friend, Marilyn. After we ate we browsed in an antique mall, and I spent fifty cents for a sweet old valentine.  I’m being treated to dinner tonight by Anne and Kevin, my daughter and son-in-law.  This week my mail box contained many valentines, mostly funny, and I had two e-cards in my Inbox today. I am surrounded by love.  I hope you are, too.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I’m often asked what I do when I’m not writing. It’s a hard question to answer because what I did this week isn’t the same as what I did last week, and next week will be different again. Oh, some things are consistent. I read. I walk my dog and take care of my cats. I spend a lot of time answering mail.

Here are a few things that I’ve done in the last seven days:

1. I bought a new digital camera. That was the easy part. The hard part, for me, was figuring out how to transfer the photos to my computer and how to e-mail them.  My first photo was of Flat Stanley, who is visiting me and reporting his adventures to a school in Lincoln, Nebraska. After sending Flat Stanley’s picture, I spent an hour on line looking for a way to recycle my old digital camera, which no longer works.

2. I went to the dentist and then met my grandson and my son-in-law at our favorite pie place. It didn’t seem quite right to go straight from getting my teeth cleaned to eating pie but Eric and Kevin happened to be in Enumclaw, where my dentist is, at the same time I was and I can’t pass up a chance to see them – or a chance to eat pie. I had blueberry almond crunch, and it was delicious.

3. I had a chimney sweep come to clean my chimney. There was much barking by Lucy when the chimney man walked around on the roof.

4.  I was interviewed by two high school students who are making a video about Jonas Salk to enter in a National History Day competition. We met at the Issaquah WA library and did the filming in a conference room. The students had watched the PBS special on polio this week. I saw it, too, although it was extremely difficult for me to watch the segments that showed children receiving the Sister Kenny treatments. Even after all these years, such images fill me with dread. The memories of polio remain strong.

5. Today I baked brownies and made a broccoli salad to serve tomorrow when friends come to dinner. I cut the thick broccoli stalks into chunks and threw them in the grass off my back porch. Withint ten minutes, a Blacktail deer came to eat them.

6. Lucy and I did a litter walk in my neighborhood to pick up trash, mostly beer cans, that had been tossed from car windows. I live in a beautiful wooded area and can never understand why people are willing to spoil that.

7. I listened to the Audio Bookshelf recording of “Escaping the Giant Wave” and I have to admit I enjoyed it.

As you can see, my life isn’t much different than the lives of other people except that during my working hours, I write. I also think about my writing even when I’m doing other things. As I drove to the video interview, for example, I thought of a new plot twist for the book I’m working on, and I had to pause in the middle of chopping broccoli to jot down an idea for a possible future book.