Tag: LocalAuthor

Margerumalia – Halloween Kittens

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – October 31, 2025

Here’s a bit of a fright: five more kittens! 

Three torties (tortoise shell markings), one tabby (already looking like her mother), and one black cat (a Halloween kitty).

If you’re thinking you only see four in the photo, zoom in on the black kitten in the middle of the kittenkaboodle*. Its head is down but if you can find the eyes, you’ll suddenly see the fifth kitten. It’s like one of those Magic Eye pictures. 

While you’re looking closely, check out the paw of the tortie to the far right. There’s a bright white patch on the toe, like a mani-pedi gone awry. But totally adorable. I’ve already started calling her Toe White.

We’re thinking we can drop one in the first five Trick-or-Treat bags that open up when we answer the doorbell. A trick that grows into a treat! Probably throw in a can of cat food for good measure.

So all that time we spent worrying about getting Tabitha back to her unseen kittens when we took her to the vet was absolutely accurate! And she’s now bringing them around for us to take over the feeding of the brood. We’re pretty sure they’re nesting under the deck by way of a small opening at the steps.

In my updates from the last few months I’ve mentioned how streetwise Tabitha is—dare I say cagey—and that she won’t walk into the humane trap we used before. 

I’ve imagined the old fashioned upside-down cardboard box held up by a stick, but you have to be there to pull the string, AND be ready to hold down the box during the thrashing of a frightened feral cat, AND have a way to transfer the cat from the box to a cat carrier. Not very practical.

I’ve also thought about childhood TV cartoons of a dog catcher carrying a big net on a stick. They don’t do that anymore.

Tabitha still needs to get those non-dissolving stitches removed, so stay tuned for more updates and more precious kitten pictures.

TTFN

* * * * *

I thoroughly enjoyed my Saturday at Main Street Books in Lafayette, made several new friends and got to encourage a 12-year-old girl who already knew she wanted to be a writer. I could see her mother’s gratitude and approval for what I was saying. Their mutual thanks were really special to me.

I also got to reunite with some of the high school students I had directed in plays over the last few years. They were at the Farmer’s Market outside and were so enthusiastic about coming in to see me. They have a play coming up this weekend and I’m excited to see what they’ve accomplished under their new director.

After the book signing, Debbie and I visited one other former high school student working up the street. They are already out of college, also a writer of plays, and we got to talk shop between customers. They work at Scones & Doilies and let me tell you, walking into that bakery, the aroma alone will register an additional five pounds on your bathroom scale. And you won’t object because it’s heavenly! We bought a few treats, including gluten free options that Debbie could enjoy.

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

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*kittenkaboodle—get out your scorecard, Eric has added one more word to the English language!

Margerumalia – Assault By Music

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – October 24, 2025

A Phone Call

I had a good laugh recently when I saw this sequence on line. A citizen of DC decided that he would protest the unnecessary invasion of the military into his city by following around the National Guard playing “The Imperial March” on his phone.

Sergeant Beck here got a little fed up with it, broke ranks, and confronted the deejay protester with a threat to call the Metro PD. 

Can you see the guy over Beck’s shoulder biting his lower lip as if to suppress a guffaw? He’s thinking “Don’t do it, Beck, just keep walking.” But the Sergeant has had it and the video ends with him whipping out his cell phone to call the police. 

I figure the call went something like this… 

Hello? Yes. This is Sergeant Beck with the National Guard. I need you to send an officer down to—[aside] Where are we?

[First National Guardsman says] Kingman Park.

Kingman Park, to arrest a civilian.

What’s he doing? He’s walking around following us, playing music, that’s what he’s doing! 

Um, I don’t know. Classical, I guess. [Asking the three other National Guardsman.] That’s considered classical, huh?

[First National Guardsman says] It’s the soundtrack, from Star Wars.

[Second National Guardsman says] John Williams won an Oscar for that. Since then he’s conducted the Philharmonic. 

[Third National Guardsman says] Definitely classical. 

Okay, shut up you guys. [Into the phone] It’s classical music. [Pause.] No, it’s recorded. It’s just one guy. You think we’d have an entire symphony orchestra following us around?! [Rolls his eyes.]

What do you think? We DID tell him to stop, and he kept on playing it! 

Because I’m not here to arrest people. That’s YOU’RE job! [Stomping his boot.] I want you to send someone over right now!

What? No, we don’t do police work.

Because we’re not trained for policing! We’re here to ensure the safety of the citizens of Washington, DC!

I don’t know! [To protester.] Hey, fellah, are you a citizen of Washington, DC? [Protester nods.] Yeah, he’s a citizen. 

But we’re not threatening his safety!! 

But it’s Darth Vader music! 

But…But…okay.

[Whining.] I said okay, jeez.

[To protester.] You’re free to go. [Protester starts up the same music.] 

Can you at least play some Taylor Swift, or something? 

[Other National Guardsmen snicker as he resumes the head of the formation.] 

What, she has a good voice!

TTFN

* * * * *

Evidence of Tabitha’s Kittens

We haven’t tried to trap Tabitha yet, we’re still regaining her trust. She’s at our back door every morning meowing for the canned food (with the medication). 

The other day Tabitha lay on the back deck with her belly facing towards us. I saw two teats that were definitely enlarged, so we’re confident that she’s still nursing at least two from her recent litter.

If you want to see the kittens we’re currently feeding, I posted a short video of them playing on the back deck. You can find it on Instagram (@ericmargerum), Bluesky (@margerumeric.bsky.social), or Substack (@margerumeric.substack.com).

Next week we’ll try to capture Tabitha again.

* * * * *

Book Signing

I’ll be at Main Street Books, my favorite indie bookstore, on October 25 from 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM. I’ll be signing books, giving away mazes and bookmarks, and can sell you a MAMLA coffee mug. Smiles are free.

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Encountering Bradbury

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – October 17, 2025

Ray Bradbury. On campus. In person!

It was my first semester at the University of Southern California where I was working on my Master’s Degree, and one of the great icons of science fiction was coming to campus to speak!

The man who wrote Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, Something Wicked This Way Comes, and countless short stories. THAT Ray Bradbury. 

And because I was born in October, he clearly wrote The October Country just for me. I had to meet him!

What made me think of him for this newsletter? I’ve been listening to his novel Death Is A Lonely Business, another Bradbury masterpiece that he wrote in 1985. It features a young aspiring writer in 1949 living alone in Venice, California, who gets caught up in a murder mystery that’s rife with haunting metaphors of fog and mist, and a pay phone that rings in the middle of the night only to deliver the sound of a distant person breathing.

Bradbury doesn’t write horror, he writes the stuff that makes you pull your covers over your head to protect yourself from the monsters under the bed. The psychological terror of childhood fears. He’s a poet of anxiety, a purveyor of winds off the graveyard.

In this novel, his protagonist is writing some of the same stories that Bradbury himself wrote in his younger years. An informed reader will hear the echoes of stories like “The Fog Horn,” “The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit,” and many more. I was transported to when I had first read these stories and felt like Bradbury was telling me the origin of each story.

In his talk at USC, he pointed through the dark auditorium, his finger penetrating the walls and across the quad. “The library,” he told us, “that’s your most important education of all right behind you.” The university had a huge library. “Go read,” he told us, “anything you can get your hands on. That’s where you’ll learn the most. One book will lead you to the next and the next… Never stop.”

I never have.

While I sat listening to him speak I thought about the many stories he had adapted into short plays, and I wrote him an invitation to see me in my first play at USC, Eugene O’Neil’s “Ah, Wilderness!” I promised to reserve two tickets for him if he could make it.

The other advice he gave about writing was entirely practical: begin by writing short stories. You can spend a year writing a terrible novel and it’ll waste a year of your time, or you can write fifty-two short stories, one a week, and sell at least one. He defied anyone to write fifty-two terrible stories in a row, one of them was going to be good!

A few years later I wrote one story and sent it in to Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine. I sent it on paper, through the mail, with an SASE (Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope) so they could send me their reply. I still have that story in my files, and my rejection slip. I was too embarrassed to send it out to another magazine, or to write fifty-one more. My bad.

I was also embarrassed when I handed Mr. Bradbury my hand-written invitation to see my play. Others were waiting in line for autographs but I had to run to class so I just handed him the folded paper. 

“Does it have your return address?” he asked, stopping to take me in, probably seeing a reflection of himself in my eyes. 

“No,” I answered, “you don’t have to answer it.” 

I still picture him opening up my note and reading it long after the play was done, thinking to himself “I’d like to have seen that.”

TTFN

* * * * *

Tabitha is still coming to eat her medicated food, but we’re going to run out. We need to capture her soon. Her son, GG, looks in the window to see if I’ll come out to pet him while he eats. He also lies on top of the picnic table outside to watch TV with us every night.

He’s so ready to be domesticated.

* * * * *

For anyone who lives around Lafayette, Indiana, I’ll be signing copies of The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles at Main Street Books on Saturday, October 25th from 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM. 

The books make a good holiday gift for children ages 8 to 12. I’ve heard from parents and grandparents who have read the book aloud—the original audiobook—saying they created special memories with the young folk. 

I can sell you a MAMLA coffee mug for your hot apple cider, and I’ll be giving away bookmarks and mazes if you just want to come by and say hi.

October 25th is the last day of the Farmer’s Market for the 2025 season. Always a fun time and just a block away from Main Street Books.

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – Molly the Maid

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – October 10, 2025

Tabitha Deferred

The saga of Tabitha has reached a stalemate for the time being. She will not re-enter the cage to eat food and spring the trap, but after several days of not eating she showed up at our back door looking thin and forlorn. So we fed her…with medication. She ate more than one-and-a-half cans.

She still needs to have her sutures removed, but her rear end didn’t look swollen last time we could see it. Maybe she bit through them while cleaning herself?

Hopefully she’ll trust us once more to provide food and care and have her stitches out at the vet, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Meanwhile, I have an excellent book to recommend:

The Maid, by Nita Prose

Like me, you’ve probably seen this book cover several times over the last few years. It was selected for the GMA Book Club, among other things. I saw the audiobook on sale and decided to give it a spin.

I like whodunnits and, having worked retail, served coffee and bartending, I figured I could relate to the service aspect of a hotel maid. 

But Molly is a maid with a difference. 

Molly is the first person narrator, so her perspective isn’t entirely explained. She seems to be on the autism spectrum, as she admits to having difficulty discerning other people’s emotions. She is also obsessive about cleaning rooms, her clothing, and her apartment.

Molly is also very observant, like her TV hero Columbo. She and her Gran used to watch that show together all the time, making her a perceptive detective.

When Molly enters to clean a room in The Grand Hotel she discovers the dead body of a very rich man. She becomes a prime witness, and later the prime suspect. 

Molly’s point of view is delivered with perfection by Lauren Ambrose in the audiobook, conveying her confusion, frustration, and emotions. I suspect that if you read the book yourself, you’ll also hear Molly’s voice in your mind. The narrative is written that well.

No spoilers here, but I will say that I was surprised by a few twists and turns near the end of the novel and even got a bit choked up by the sentiment in that part of the story. 

Speaking of the end, do not skip the epilogue. Writers these days are discouraged from presenting a prologue or an epilogue because, they say, it should just be part of the book. I don’t have an opinion on that, but if you skip the epilogue of The Maid you’ll miss the most interesting twist of all.

I see that Nita Prose has written additional books for this character, but this first book is completely self-contained, no cliff-hanger or unanswered questions. You could start and stop with this first book and feel very satisfied. 

Thanks, Nita, I appreciate that. I don’t like those stray hairs any more than Molly does.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Tabitha, Part 3

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – October 3, 2025

PHOTO: Debbie Margerum

When I left off last week, Tabitha had stepped on the metal plate to trigger the door spring and we whisked her off to Purdue Veterinary Clinic. Then we made the decision to bring her back and release her so she could go nurse her kittens somewhere out there in the woods.

We had decided to trust her to trust us. 

Now you’re caught up.

After feeding her the canned food with the stool softener, we lifted the cage door and she pulled back like the photo above from when she was captured. 

“C’mon, Tabby, we brought you back to feed your little ones. Go.” 

I pressed my finger against her backside through the bars of the cage and she dashed out, crossed the deck, and disappeared into the brush. 

“Just please come back, so we can give you more medicine.” 

A moment after she left I realized that I had touched her for the first time since she was born over two years ago. In the past she had been willing to touch her nose to my finger, and I’d settled for “butterfly kisses” from her whiskers but I always wanted to pet her. She was soft and furry, of course, and a little bit scrawny, but mostly I felt her warmth and the moment of connection that came with it. Interesting what your finger can tell you in a brief touch.

It was a bucket list moment. Brief but meaningful. 

God bless that cat, she’s returned to eat every morning since. And I know the medicine is working because I saw her in the neighbor’s yard a few days later when she lifted her tail to spew brown liquid generously across the grass. Sorry, Cindy.

The current conundrum (or cat-nundrum) is our need to catch her again to have the sutures removed. On Monday morning she sat by the cage staring at the food for twenty minutes hoping to get her daily bowlful, then gave up and left.

No food. No medication. Did we make a mistake by letting her loose? Or did we save her kittens? 

The vet checked her for lactation and was uncertain whether she was actively nursing because of the low amount of milk they could express. We chose to let her feed them if at all possible—these kittens we’ve never seen.

I started writing about this series of events two weeks ago with “Fear of the Unknown,” and we’re still fearing the unknown. A reflection of our times, isn’t it?

Meanwhile I finished writing the adventure of the two girls in The Most Amazing Museum of Chicago and got them safely away from The Great Chicago Fire. More unknowns ahead for me and my characters!

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – Tabitha, Part 2

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – September 26, 2025

In the picture above, Tabitha waits patiently outside the trap.

“I can wait here all day,” she seems to say. “How about you?”

“Just go in, Tabby, so the vet can help you.” 

It was a game of chess that could only continue if she made the next move. 

As I wrote last week in “Fear of the Unknown,” Tabby had what looked like a piece of raw meat hanging out from under her tail. If we ignored it and it got infected she’d probably die, as would the three-week old kittens she had nested somewhere in the woods.

On the phone, I asked the vet how often three-week old kittens needed to feed. The answer: “They need to nurse every few hours.”

We had replaced the food holder in the cage with something much smaller. Something that would require her to step on the metal plate and trigger the door to shut. 

“Nice fresh canned food, Tabitha,” we murmured from indoors.

After forty-five minutes of waiting, she entered the cage. She stepped on the plate and the door slammed shut. It was GO time! 

My wife and I had prepared for this moment. An old towel to cover the cage and another one under it. We didn’t know if Tabby would scared-pee or, as the expression goes, get pissed off. No problem with that, thankfully.

We got her to the Emergency Vet Care at Purdue University where she refused to cooperate. She’d never been touched by a human being! They had to put her under just to examine at her. 

I’ve heard of a prolapsed uterus after childbirth, but I’d never heard of a prolapsed colon. Apparently it’s not uncommon with outdoor cats who have worms. Inside the cat’s guts things can get so backed-up that a cat will strain enough to push out part of the colon. That was the “raw meat” we saw under Tabby’s tail. 

While Tabitha was asleep, they restored the colon and used sutures to hold it in place. Non-dissolving sutures that encircled the “tube” of the colon. She would need to eat food with stool softener to have successful poops. They told us to bring her back in two weeks to have the sutures removed.

I’ve found that being a pet owner, a home owner, a car owner, and a parent, comes with a lot of choices and responsibilities. Not to mention a thorough education in how things work.

If we took Tabby back home and let her go, would she ever trust us again? Would she return to eat the medicated food? If we kept her in captivity we could make sure she did. But if we didn’t let her go, the newborn kittens would starve to death.

We decided to trust her to trust us. 

Before releasing her, we fed her medicated food inside the cage and then we opened it up to let her go.

Next Week: Part Three

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Fear of the Unknown

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – September 19, 2025

Man’s greatest fear is the fear of the unknown.

Our daughter and her husband stayed with us recently on their way to her ten year high school reunion. They stayed in the bedroom downstairs which requires them to pass by the doorway to my unlit office on their way to the bathroom. She asked if I minded her shutting the door. Not at all! I was instantly reminded of the heebie-jeebies I used to get passing a dark staircase on my way to bed. 

The picture above looks like a large but cozy old home and it was—during the day. It was built in 1303 as a home for the clergy of the Canterbury Cathedral. My family was renting rooms on the corner of the top left staircase while my dad was on sabbatical leave in England.

Leaving the living room to go to our bedroom, my brothers and I had to pass that wide black opening into the dark Great Hall that seemed to echo the sounds of ghostly spirits from centuries past. My English playmates confidently told me about the woman whose baby fell down that old wooden staircase to land on the stone steps at the bottom and die. They said her spirit had been seen walking down the staircase, bloody baby in her arms, weeping and wailing at the loss of her little one. 

If the fear of an ancient ghost mourning her child’s death isn’t enough to make you hurry past an empty doorway, I don’t know what is!

I had another heart-pounding experience much more recently.

Our outdoor cat, Tabitha,  the mother of at least three litters, showed up the other day with something hanging from under her tail, something that looked like raw meat. And when she sat to eat from the food bowl she left behind a bloody stain on our deck. 

To add to the complication, she just became un-pregnant again about two weeks ago and we don’t know where she’s keeping her little ones. We set up the humane trap to capture her and take her to the vet, knowing they might keep her overnight, maybe longer. 

Who will nurse those kittens? Who will nurse them if she dies of an infection? Will we get her safely to the vet, or will she fight us tooth-and-nail? So many unknowns. 

I was standing at the sliding glass doors when Tabitha approached the cage, went inside and started eating the food.

My heart was beating a hundred miles an hour, my adrenaline energy was topped out. She just needed to step on that metal plate to trigger the door and we’d be off to the races! Even as I type this, my hands are shaking once again. 

That streetwise Tabby ate the food and backed out of the cage without ever triggering the capture!

The unknown haunts us still. 

Will we need to drop everything when she comes back and DOES step on the plate? Will she succumb to whatever it is under her tail? Will we have to search the neighborhood and the surrounding woods to locate the hungry kittens?

Those are very real questions based on very possible consequences, and the primitive brain feels more than a little panicky about the fear of the unknown.

[PHOTO CREDIT: Strutt & Parker Real Estate]

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – Writers on Display

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – September 12, 2025

I was honored to receive an email recently telling me that my book would be featured in a display at The Caretaker’s Cottage curated by the West Lafayette Public Library. My wife and I went over to see it and she took this photo of me. You can see MAMLA on the top shelf of the display case farthest to the right.

It’s quite the incentive to put my nose to the grindstone and finish my sequel, The Most Amazing Museum of Chicago. I have 10,335 words written on my first draft, so that’s not nothing! 

The Caretaker’s Cottage was remodeled into a beautiful little museum that the public library set up and it sits on the edge of Grandview Cemetery, where my parents and grandmother are buried. The cottage was built around the turn of the twentieth century and housed the cemetery caretaker and his family.

The grand view, now hidden by majestic maples and towering oak trees, looked down the hillside and across the Wabash River, providing a spectacular vista of Lafayette.

I used to walk or ride my bike past that cemetery on my way to junior high school and always found it calming, not frightening like cemeteries in the movies.

The rotating displays of the museum honors West Lafayette residents from soldiers to sports figures to writers, telling the story of our city. There used to be a display of my mother’s campaign memorabilia and some highlights of her twenty-four years as mayor. That exhibit and more are now housed on the top floor of the public library.

A less comfortable story, but vital to tell, is that West Lafayette was once a sun-down town. That means that everyone who was not white had to leave the town by the time the sun went down. Non-whites were allowed to clean houses and do manual labor, but they could not live here. 

This practice ended before I was born, but it sends a cold spike into my guts when I think about it. The docent admitted that she benefitted from generational wealth, living in the house that her grandparents built about a century ago. She even showed us a copy of the deed they signed with large letters excluding non-whites. It was poignant. 

What is it they say in Alcoholics Anonymous? Before you can begin mending, you have to admit you have a problem? I’m glad to see the racial mix across the city and when I work part time at the Junior/Senior High School. I hope we, as a nation, can continue to mend and learn from our history how ever uncomfortable it may be. 

We are, after all, the human race. We are one people. 

TTFN

* * * * *

My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – 20 Years Since Katrina

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – September 5, 2025

I was preparing to direct a stage version of Dead Man Walking in Wichita when Katrina hit the Gulf Coast.

The Death Penalty Discourse Center operated out of that area. Had they even received the check for the performance rights? I had no way of knowing, and they were unreachable. Louisiana was hit hard.

There was nowhere to go but forward. 

Sister Helen Prejean’s bestselling memoir had been adapted into an Academy Award winning movie and, as a theatre professor working in a university founded by nuns, I knew this would be a significant opportunity. The hurricane turned many lives upside down and this play did the same.

I gathered a cast of very talented and dedicated actors who understood the gravity of this story and the questions of life and death. Even my eight-year-old daughter played an important role as the surviving sister of the murder victim. She delivered a haunting performance as the forgotten child, emotionally abandoned by her parents who were drowning in their own grief.

A local sister who ministered to prisoners on death row came to speak to the cast about “her men.” She told us moving stories of the men who lived daily with the regret of their deeds and their desire to make things right with the survivors, their consciences, and God. Her words transformed them from monsters into flawed human beings. 

For the execution scene, the university choir recorded a moving rendition of “Amazing Grace” that played through the prisoner’s death and the removal of his body on the gurney. The audience didn’t know that the sweet tenor solo in the recording was sung by the actor playing the prisoner. 

I have personal notes from several actors thanking me for the opportunity to live and feel the reality of their characters. One even described how she and the actors playing the parents of the murdered girl broke down in a group hug backstage, holding one another and weeping. She was thanking me for that experience.

My wife and I watched TV for weeks during Katrina recovery efforts, saddened by the mounting death toll.

Eventually the check did clear. Sister Helen and the members of The Death Penalty Discourse Center were among the survivors. I’m sure they were changed by the experience. I know we were.

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – Vaccination The Old Fashioned Way

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – August 20, 2025

My mom poured the medicine into the spoon and put it in my brother’s mouth, then she crossed the room, poured out another spoonful and put the same spoon in my mouth.

That’s how I got the mumps when I was four years old.

A few days ago my doctor was reviewing my vaccinations and I told her the story of how I got the mumps. Mom gave it to me. And it was intentional. 

It happened in Germany when my Dad had the opportunity to work with a world renowned chemist and scheduled his first sabbatical leave to take advantage of the offer. Mom loved to travel and fully embraced the experience. Bringing along two boys under six? No problem! 

When I say “world renowned chemist” I’m not kidding. Dr. Eigen would be awarded a Nobel Prize in Chemistry a couple of years after we came back to the States. 

The family spent a total of nine months living in Germany—I should say West Germany, before the reunification of the two Germanys.

My brother and I each had a birthday during that time, his sixth, my fourth. We celebrated Christmas in that little German house and Dad laid the track for an electric train to circle the tree. On Christmas morning a toy bunny peeked out of my stocking and I played with him all day.

In the spring it was time to get ready for the return trip and my Dad came down with the mumps. My only memory of that was the doctor coming to give Dad a shot in his bare behind. I felt sorry for him but better him than me! 

A couple weeks closer to our departure date and Dad was feeling better but my older brother came down with a case of the mumps.

The vaccine hadn’t been invented yet and we wouldn’t be welcome to travel while infectious. If it took that long to reach to my brother, would it take that long before I got it? Time to consult the doctor.

My mother had earned a degree with majors in Chemistry and Biology and she knew the doctor was right: she had to infect me sooner than later. Still, she felt guilty about putting that spoon in my mouth. It went against all of her motherly instincts.

It was a classic textbook example of vaccination by exposure. I came down with a very mild case of the mumps from which I recovered quickly and we were all cleared to travel home. 

Mom? Oh, she never got sick. Ever. I couldn’t tell you why, she just had a robust immune system. At her funeral I thanked her for passing that gift along to me and my brothers. 

And Bunny? Yeah, he came home with me, went to college with me, grad school, too. Everywhere, in fact. He sits on my bookshelf now, his pink ears smudged, his whiskers bent, and his red ribbon bow now faded, but seeing him still makes me smile. I’ll put a picture of him below.

TTFN

* * * * *

My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles