Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Summer’s flying! It’s almost the end of July, and I am reading only my second book of the season. It reminds me of when I was between eighth grade and high school, and the local library sponsored reading clubs during June, July, and August.

My friend Carol and I joined them in eager anticipation of reading about civilizations far distant from our own in urban St. Louis, Missouri. We’d trek to the library at Styx School, about four blocks south of my home, and return laden with wonders between hardbound covers.

“You would like this,” the local librarian told us on more than one occasion. I cannot remember that woman’s name, but I surely do remember some of the readings she recommended.

There was Song of the Voyageur, a story about emerging love set in what is now Minnesota. There was A Lantern in Her Hand, another early settlement story. And then there was Mara, Daughter of the Nile.

Recently, Carol tracked down two copies of Mara, Daughter of the Nile and presented me with one for my birthday. She kept the other for herself, so that we could read the book together and recall the joys of our teen years. After finishing the book as an adult, I must say that Mara stood the test of time; even as an adult I enjoyed it immensely. And I was impressed that two teenage girls with a lot on their minds besides reading could follow the tightly woven plot.

I wonder if today’s youth find satisfaction in haunting the local library. I hope so, because there is so much to be learned in that hallowed building, so much that stays with one through the course of years. Rereading Mara, Daughter of the Nile is only one proof of this.