Book-fairs and catalogs

There was nothing like the feel of ink-covered, yellow paper in your hands when your teacher handed out the Scholastic book catalog. The smell, similar to a newspaper, is so familiar to me that I could place it even now. The excitement in each student could be felt in the air, buzzing like an electric current from desk to desk. As soon as the catalogs were dispersed, my classmates and I would devour the pages and chat excitedly about which items we would be getting. 

I never knew what each catalog would hold, but the possibility was enough to fill my thoughts for an entire day. By the time I made it home I had circled almost 15 items. Looking back, I really pity my mom. She had to sit with me as I described each and every book. This one comes with a heart locket. These books are a series and they come in a pretty carrying case. She would nod and then explain that 15 books is an unreasonable request. I didn’t agree at first, but finally resigned myself to one or two.

My favorite thing I got from the catalog was a boxed set of A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. My sister got the same set and we always fought over which set was which. We spent more time than I would like to admit screaming about identical copies of books. I have no idea where these books went. I guess the fervor with which I treated the catalog has been transferred to something more worthwhile. At least, I hope.

There is only one day that is better than catalog day, book-fair day. My teacher would prepare us by reminding my class over and over that we needed to bring money if we wanted to buy anything at the fair. Cue the begging.

After pocketing some crumpled allowance money I practically teleported to class on the day of the fair. I didn’t know when I would take that trip to the library, but I counted down the minutes by following the long red second hand as it travelled around the cheap clock on the wall. By the time my teacher lined us up at the door, I was almost unable to contain my joy.

Brand new books were displayed artfully around the library. They would soon be thrown haphazardly into the floor by my classmates, but not me. Each book I looked at was treated with the utmost respect. Once I decided I didn’t want a certain book, I placed it neatly back in its place and resumed my search. My teachers usually had to sigh impatiently as I took my time choosing just the right book to satiate my hunger.

These two annual holidays ended once middle school rolled around. I would watch elementary school classes as they walked to the library. How could I be envious of children? I guess there are perks in being young.