There isn't a child I know who hasn't had the opportunity and relished in the exciting experience of building their own fort. It's the ways in which they utilize their own creativity to construct them that is such a pleasant thought for me. It is also a reminder that I, too, as a child used my own imagination to do something that is normally an activity that boys take the most interest in. What's even more astounding - is it all became possible with something I remember, and others may not. A book, all too familiar to me; the Encyclopedia.

Encyclopedias seem to be a thing of the past. You may have an old set, or often find them - emerging at garage sales; gone unnoticed as if no one even knows how important they once were. I, however, will never forget.

Not only were they wonderful reference books of knowledge; they were the key to keeping my indoor basement fort from caving in on me.

I loved rainy days the most when I was young. It made me use my own creativity when outdoor activities required much less. It was on those days that my mother, without hesitation, would go to the old trunk in the basement, and hand me the endless piles of blankets that would soon become the walls and ceilings of my silent retreat. Rainy days were fort building days, and each opportunity was another attempt for me to make one better then the last.

With the help of my mother, furniture would be moved in preparation for the build. Kitchen table chairs were added for additional height, and foot stools were also brought in to act as little indoor tables for tea parties with my dolls. None of this could be possible though, without the help of those reference books; heavy enough to hold the blankets on the tops of furniture, yet safe enough to ensure that if they did indeed slip, the bumps created on my head would be worn proud like a carpenter's battered thumb. They were always there, in the corner bookshelf, and I always put them back in order when the fort was taken down.

I had at my disposal, twenty-five helpers; x,y and z stayed together as one. They were the perfect weight and size to adjust the height of my blankets, giving me the ability to create cathedral ceilings or low-hanging abodes. Sometimes they'd fail me by slipping, but I never wavered; I just crawled out of my fort and put them back in place.

I was young enough to believe that maybe the slip was caused by using the wrong letter book; "A" might be stronger then "C", I often thought. Convinced, for

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