Last Sunday in church there was a little girl about seven years old sitting in the row in front of me. She had a bright pink book bag with a picture of "My Little Pony" printed on it. She wore a multi-tonal pink striped sweater that matched her book bag. Nobody made fun of her for wearing so much pink. In her book bag, she had a plastic baggie filled with Cheerios in case she got hungry, and a box of crayons in case she got bored. (No offence intended, Pastor Klatt.) She was seated between her grandmother and her great-grandmother. The space between grandma and great-grandma is the ultimate seat of love. The little girl didn’t have to wear makeup to look cute and she didn’t have naturally curly hair to contend with. Suddenly I wanted to go back to seven, when my grandma was still around and my dad and Aunt Gladys were still alive, and I was the apple of their eye. I could look forward to reading "Harriet the Spy" for the first time and seeing the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show. I’d have my first true love in the 4th grade. I’d have every summer off to go swimming at the outdoor pool and I’d spend all three days at the Rock County Fair. Then I’d grow up and have the adventure of going to college and backpacking in the Big Horn Mountains and getting my first library job and my first apartment and my first house and my first husband (first and only husband). Then I remembered: I’d have to go through 40+ years of dealing with naturally curly hair again. I would be thwarted by my true love in the 4th grade. I’d grow up and have to work in the old Carnegie library building for 20 years and then move the library into the new building again. I’d have to kiss a lot of frogs before I would meet the loving husband and I’d have to lose everyone I’ve ever lost a second time. Frankly, I guess I'm happy where I am. One good thing about being older is the opportunity to read old people’s books. I can still read "Harriet the Spy," but I’m now mature enough to read "The Fifth Horseman" by James Patterson. The Women’s Murder Club faces an unspeakable horror in this irresistible hospital and courtroom thriller. A young mother is recuperating in a San Francisco hospital when she is suddenly gasping for breath. The call button fails to bring help in time. The hospital doctors, some of the best in the nation, are completely mystified by her death. But this is not the first such case at the hospital. Just as patients are about to be released with a clean bill of health, their conditions take a devastating turn for the worse. Lt. Lindsay Boxer probes deeper into the incidents. When someone close to the Women’s Murder Club begins to exhibit the same frightening symptoms, Lindsay fears no one is safe. It is a wild race against time as her investigation reveals a hospital administration determined to shield its reputation at all costs. And while the hospital wages an explosive court battle that grips the entire nation, Lindsay and the Women’s Murder Club hunt for a merciless killer among its esteemed medical staff. Alert: The library will be closed on Monday, Feb. 20, in observance of Presidents’ Day.
