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Nancy also taught Warren and me the most aggravating and addicting card game–Spite and Malice. It is my pleasure to share Nancy’s experience reading Edward Gorey’s The Gashlycrumb Tinies, a book that I also memorized as a child and love to this day.
Inside the Odell Public Library of 1960’s Morrison, Illinois, was a timeless harbor.
Hard though it may be to imagine, my childhood was purposely, blessedly kept naïve to many of life’s realities, including the anguish of death.
In Gorey’s book, every letter of the alphabet is a child’s name.
And every child meets his or her shocking demise at the price of an alliterative rhyme.
Perhaps like Edward Gorey, Mom knew that there are only so many ways one can attempt to dress up the issue of death to make it palatable and understandable to a child. After all, poetry can only do so much to distract us from the hard truth of a drowned boy in a coffin.
A few years ago, my adult son gave me a copy of The Gashleycrumb Tinies for Christmas.