I wish every child had a Miss Spoelhof. I can directly trace my love of reading to this dear woman. Miss S. taught kindergarten in the Grand Rapids Christian Schools, although by the time I knew her she was retired. She had delft-blue eyes and her hair was silver-white. She had never married, and like my mom, her family roots went back to New Jersey.
Miss Spoelhof was a friend of my parents, and my dad would keep her 1965(ish) Chevy Nova sedan in good working order. Mind you, this was not a muscle car. It was a white four-door with white and tan interior, I think. While Dad did routine maintenance or repairs on the car, Miss S. would come in the house and visit with my mom. She never came without a book. In fact, when I was very small and names held little meaning, Mom would simply say "The book lady is coming for coffee today" and I'd know who she meant. I was about four years old when Miss Spoelhof gave me a scratch-n-sniff book of fairy tales that I still have today. I enjoyed sharing it with Ben when he was a preschooler. The strawberry tart that Red Riding Hood brings to her grandma still smells tantalizing after all these years!
On another of her visits, Miss Spoelhof brought me little wooden rocking chair. It was painted white with gold accents, and it was the perfect size for a preschooler. I used to love sitting in that chair and reading a book or rocking my Baby Alive. I still have the chair; it's stored in my basement. When Ben was little I kept it upstairs in hopes that he would enjoy sitting in it, but he's never been one to sit still for long. So I keep it in hopes of one day, Lord willing, passing it on to a grandchild.
Once I began attending school and progressing in my reading, the books Miss Spoelhof brought became more challenging.
Fly Away Free in first grade;
Badger's Beech in second grade;
Caddie Woodlawn in third grade; an illustrated hardcover of
Gulliver's Travels in fourth grade. Then came a dictionary and a thesaurus--the latter I had no idea how to use at that time. One of the last books I remember her giving me was
Cold Sassy Tree. I was probably around twelve or thirteen, and the plot went a bit over my head. But I reread it later in my teen years, and it's a story I still like today.
Miss Spoelhof grew older and wasn't driving as much anymore. She came to my high school graduation open house, but then I didn't see her for quite a few years. Shortly before my dad retired from his auto shop, she moved into an assisted living center and had to give up the Nova. I finished college, got married, and got too busy with my new life. Then one day my dad mentioned that he heard Miss Spoelhof had a stroke and wasn't doing well. By this time I was working full-time as an editor for Baker Academic. I discovered that I loved working with books, and Miss S. was someone who had always encouraged me in that direction. She was now in a nursing facility, and when I entered her room she didn't remember me. She vaguely remembered my dad taking care of her car when I told her I was Rich's daughter.
I felt awkward and thought of leaving, but then I mentioned the white rocking chair, and I saw a spark of memory in her blue eyes. She remembered that chair, and she started telling me all about how she found it. She had been on her way home one day when she saw someone setting up for a garage sale. One of the items was a child-size white rocking chair, and she had to have it. But when she pulled into the driveway and asked the price, the person refused to sell it before the sale opened at nine o'clock the next morning. So Miss S. arrived at eight o'clock the next morning and waited outside the garage doors until they opened, and she bought the chair for five dollars.
When she finished telling me the chair story, I thanked her for all the books she had brought me during my childhood. I told her that I had a degree in English and had graduated with highest honors. I told her that I was married and my husband was studying to be a minister. I told her about my job editing books and how much I loved the publishing business. I told her that God had used her to light a fire in me at an early age for the printed page and how grateful I was for that. But the curtain of memory had closed, and she asked again who I was. So I told her once more, "I'm Amy, Rich and Jule Houskamp's youngest daughter." And then I said good-bye and left.
A little over a year later, my dad called to say that Miss Spoelhof had passed away. I now had a colicky baby and lived a hundred miles away, so I wasn't able to attend her funeral. But I look forward to seeing her again someday and saying thanks again for the difference she made in my life. If only every boy and girl had someone like her to encourage the habit of books.
Last weekend I attended a writer’s conference, and I came
home completely energized, full of ideas, ready to write and submit my work for
publication. There’s just one small complication: that’s all I want to do, but there are so many other
things I must do. Like laundry. And dishes. And preparing meals for my family. Oh, and the small matter of these galleys that
have been sitting on my desk for several days now and that I am supposed to be
proofreading. Except the author attempted to use the plural noun “architects”
as a verb (shudder) and did not know the difference between the noun insight and its verbal homonym incite (double shudder). And I know
that’s why I do what I do, but right at this
moment I don’t feel like it. I’m still back there with all my word people
throwing around heady ideas like creating believable emotion in prose and
writing theological memoir. I want to be writing my own stuff, not reading someone else's.
