Are you there, Judy? It’s Me, Colleen

When I was twelve, I woke up in the middle of the night to find my mom rummaging through my collection of books I kept over my dresser. Her slim figure was silhouetted in the little bit of light coming from the hallway, but I could tell she was looking for something as she held each spine into the light then tilted her head to read the title.

“Mom?” I said startling her (…in my room, rifling through my prized possessions in the middle of the night.)

“Oh, honey. Go back to sleep.” She whispered as she dropped a few of the books on the edge of my bed.

“What are you doing? ” I reached for them, my friends, the books scattered over my covered feet. They were part of a collection I had asked for the previous Christmas, The Judy Blume Boxed Set. My most favorite gift I received that year. Blubber, Are You There God It’s Me Margaret, and Then Again Maybe I Won’t taught me so much more about the awkward teen life I was already experiencing in a way no teacher at my Catholic school or any of my parents had.

“What are you looking for?” I held up the purple one, the copy of Are You There God It’s Me Margaret? If I had to choose, that one would have been my favorite. It was that book, that story that made me realize I was not alone with my clumsy and embarrassing feelings about my body, about the changes that everyone gave rushed and awkward explanations for. I held it and squeezed it in my hand not wanting to let go. When my mom reached for it, a short tug of war ensued, but the obedient catholic girl let go. “Why do you want these, Mom?” I whispered. “And why in the middle of the night?”

         “I just want to make sure these are appropriate for you.,” She whispered while cradling my friends, my confidents in her arms as she backed out of my room. “Now, just go back to sleep” With that, she pulled the door closed, leaving me alone in the dark. 

         My mom had been to a school meeting that evening where the volunteers were supposed to be coordinating who was going to crochet the red and green Christmas trees for the church bazaar but instead the parents worked themselves up into a lather over Judy Blume. On the school bus the next morning my best friend told an almost identical story to mine that played out in her home the night before. My curiosity was piqued by their concern about the books, the only things really, that had helped explain life in a way that made me feel less alone and more understood. How could this be bad?  

A few days later, my mom did return my books, deemed “appropriate” I guess. Turns out the book they were ransacking teen bedrooms in search of was called Forever. The buzz at the lunchtime kickball game was that the book was about sex, the number one topic non grata. Lucky for me my best friend’s older sister was hiding a copy under her mattress next to the diary we didn’t need a key to open. My friend and I spent weeks, maybe months, stealthily sneaking into the room just like undercover Charlie’s Angels to read a paragraph here or a page there while the big sister was otherwise occupied. Shoulder to shoulder, we scanned the pages often stopping to confirm with each other what we had just read. “Ralph? Does every guy name their thing?” However, just as with the other books in my treasured boxed set, there were more answers than questions. Forever opened up a dialog between my best friend about relationships, sex and love. And when her older sister caught us red handed rather than rat us out (we might have had to give her our new bonnie bell lip glosses)she sat on the floor next to us and talked with us about the book. I learned so much from her, from that book, from that very first secret book club.

           Now today, I’m much older than twelve, but I recently saw Judy Blume interviewed, promoting the release of Are You There God It’s Me Margaret in movie theatres this week and I was giddy at the site of her and at the knowledge that her book was finally going to be a movie. I wanted to reach through the screen and give her a hug, to thank her for having the courage to write the way she did and giving us characters, who became like friends. Margaret, Deenie, Blubber and Katherine taught me so much about life and even though they only lived inside the pages they somehow made me feel less alone. Judy Blume’s books for me were a beginning. For it was through her stories that I found comfort, realized that I can learn anything from books and that often the stories that are being banned or forbidden are exactly the ones I should be reading. I know it was there, reading her books, that my book lover self was born. It is from this feeling of inclusion and desire for truth that I love to read and write today. I’m not sure how to properly thank someone for such a life changing gift, a gift that came in a boxed set but I thought I’d use this blog to try. So, if you are there, Judy,

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Interested in any of Judy Blume’s books-check out my bookshop.org where I have a collection of her books selected in a group called “Thank You Judy Blume.”

I am a bookshop affiliate and may earn a few pennies from purchases through this link of which I will go and buy more books.