I came across my boxed set of Little House on the Prairie Books. They are a set of six books, housed in a battered yellow cardboard holder that is stained and a little warped. On the top of the set it says "This Compete Set of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House Books Belongs to": and here I had painstakingly signed my name in upright cursive letters. I got the set for Christmas when I was eight. It was an inexpensive set when it was new, clearly not heirloom quality, and yet I have lovingly packed and moved it with me dozens of times over the years.
It's funny now to hold the little yellow paperback books in my hands. Leafing through the first book "Little House in the Big Woods" I can see where the corner of a yellowed, slightly wrinkled page is turned down, and even find a faded blue Disneyland bookmark tucked in at page 148.
Just looking at the illustrations brings back the stories. I loved the story of how Pa met a bear in the road on the way back to the cabin. He had not brought his gun, and so he found a large branch in the moonlight, and ran at the bear who was standing in the road on hind legs, and swung at it with all his might, only to discover it was a dead tree. He always kept his rifle loaded and hung on pegs over the cabin door.
Oh how I wanted a family like Laura had in those books, especially a "Pa" who came home every night, and played the fiddle if he wasn't too tired and told stories by the light of an oil lamp. I wanted a place like the snug little cabin in the Big Woods, where I could feel safe no matter how hard the wind outside was howling.
YOU ARE READING
The Silver Tongued Devil
Non-FictionTrue story of my life growing up, and my relationship with my dad. Back in the 1970's you could take your kids to a bar without getting arrested. Read on to find out what happened next.
