One day, when I was just a girl, my mom gave me a book. I can’t remember if it was Frecklejuice, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, or Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself, but it was a Judy Blume book. There were so many of them I have lost track. I can vividly remember being in 5th grade and reading Forever and feeling like I was doing something so “wrong” reading that book about a girl losing her virginity.
If John Hughes filmed the truth of my young life, then Judy Blume wrote my truth. In the pages of her novels were the moments of my life, played out by other girls in other worlds. They lived my struggles, they knew my pain and my triumphs.
About 10 yrs ago I moved to Scotch Plains, NJ. Only later did I find out that this little hamlet in Central NJ was once the home of Judy Blume. Serendipity. The other day, I discovered Ms. Blume on twitter. Immediately I began to follow her and then (wait for it) I tweeted to her. SHE ANSWERED ME! I had what, in this technologically distorted world, could be considered a conversation with Judy Blume. I didn’t gush at her about the fact that she shaped my childhood perception of myself, I didn’t ooze to her that reading all of her amazing novels is probably why I aspire to write myself, I did none of that. I asked her what elementary school her kids went to. What was I thinking???
But, Judy Blume “talked” to me!! Just, wow.