When I was a young child, our family lived in a tiny town in Iowa. My dad pastored the local Baptist church and my mom helped part time at the library.
I learned to read at an early age and spent my childhood immersed in books. My mom had to make a new rule. “When I tell you to come here, you put the book down.” Before that, I’d walk through the house without taking my eyes from my book. I had to find out what Laura was doing, or see if Nancy would solve the mystery. How would Trixie Belden get out of her scrapes if I didn’t keep reading?
When mom told me about the summer reading contest, my heart raced. What would the prize be? A gift certificate for a treat? A new book? A fun toy?
Nope—it was a Superman towel. To be completely honest, 7 (or 8) year old Malissa was not interested in a Superman towel—not even a teensy tiny little bit. Oh well, I’d still read, but I no longer cared about winning the contest.
That is until Walter told me he was going to win the contest. Oh really, Walter? I don’t think so!
I read like crazy because each book finished earned one entry in the giveaway. My smug smile spread across my face as I wrote my name on slips of paper, dropping them into the jar. I kept a running tally in my head in case I ran into Walter.
“How many books have you read, Walter?”
He’d grin and tell me the number of entries he earned that week. Sometimes, I was ahead and other times, he’d earned more slips of paper in the jar than me. On those weeks, I’d race through my books, reading as fast as my eyes could focus.
Several weeks later, a knock at the door interrupted my reading.
“Malissa, someone here to see you,” Mom called from the door. I dropped my book and hurried to the door to find the librarian.
She handed me the Superman beach towel with a smile. “You’re the winner in the reading contest.”
I clutched the towel to my heart and beamed. I won the Superman beach towel and Walter did not.
Oh, poor Walter. I wish I could remember his last name and look him up. I hope he got over the agony of defeat!
I kept the towel tucked away in a trunk with all my childhood treasures until a few summers ago. My little boy saw it when I was cleaning and asked if he could use it. It seemed silly to hold on to it any longer, so I handed it over. He used it all summer and wore it out until the threads no longer resembled my hard won beach towel and we tossed the pieces in the garbage.
I’m not sure I’ve won a contest since that excited me as much as this one did when I was a little girl in Iowa.
Sorry, Walter!