For me, books are not inanimate; they are living, breathing entities. They've always "been there" for me in good times, as well as in times of crisis. When I was fifteen years old, I was thrown from a quarter horse on my way to a swimming hole, and three of my vertebrae were fractured. This happened at the very beginning of the summer (1977), and I was literally flat on my back for two months straight. My speech teacher from the prior school year stopped by my house and gave me every single Agatha Christie novel ever published even "Curtain", which was her final Hercule Poirot book (which she wrote so that no one would continue writing Poirot novels post mortem).

I read every day, sometimes two books at a time. My aunt brought me some Victoria Holt novels, and a few of Mary Higgins Clark's earliest. I read all of the books by the Bronte sisters and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as well. It was during those 8 weeks of inertia that I came to realize that books could transport me beyond my pain, beyond my circumstances. When I read them, I brought my own life experiences to the read itself, and the relationship with each book became my own. But, after I graduated from high school and started college, my reading was anything but my own; reading for pleasure went on hold.

". . .MY BEST FRIEND IS A MAN WHO GIVES ME A BOOK I AIN'T READ."
Abraham Lincoln

My sister-in-law, Susan, teaches middle school Spanish, and puts every ounce of her self into her teaching. The school year for Susan is very busy, very long. I know she looks forward to summers, but I think I look forward to her hiatus from teaching nearly as much as she does!

When I first met Susan, years ago, I was "new" to the family we both were a part of by marriage. We married brothers, Susan and me, and since she had some years of "bonding" with our in-laws before I came along, she helped me learn the ropes, taught me through example how to not take hurtful remarks to heart, how to be gracious when all I wanted to do was cry. Ever seen the bumper sticker that says "We put the fun' in dysfunctional?" Well, our in-laws didn't do that by a long shot - they put the "dys" in functional, to put it bluntly.

Susan's aid during those years were priceless gifts; yet the most wonderful thing she ever did for me was re-introduce me to the wonderful world of fiction, literary and

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