This morning I learned that one of my favorite writers, Amy
Krouse Rosenthal, is dying – before long – of ovarian cancer. I had known that she was sick for about the
past month, but I didn’t realize that her situation was so grim. Gratefully, in this day and age, a cancer
diagnosis isn’t a certain death, but unfortunately there are still many types
of cancer that are not as treatable as others. By now, you've probably heard about her from the article in the New York Times, where she essentially writes a dating ad for her soon-to-be-widowed husband. It is one of the loveliest love letters I've ever read.
AKR, as I think of this writer, has written both children’s
books and several memoirs and books for adults.
Her children’s books are sweet, often with a theme of inclusion or
permission to be your true self. I’ve
thoroughly enjoyed her memoirs. The
first one I came across was An Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. In this book, she chronicles her life,
encyclopedia-style. AKR is a few years
younger than me, so she grew up in the age of encyclopedias. This book contains short smatterings of her
thoughts on various topics, alphabetized and cross-referenced. There was a set of Collier’s Encyclopedias in
my house that my parents probably spent far too much on and which I loved. They contained the entirety of the known
universe. Anything I wanted to know more
about lurked within those heavy tomes. I
can still recall the weight of the volume on my cross-legged lap, the cracking
sound of the spines as they were opened, revealing glossy pages and sometimes
mystifying black and white photos. AKR’s
uncanny ability to connect interesting commonalities of words or ideas is equal
parts amusing, poignant, and oh, so true.
I identified with her ideas and experiences on such a deep level that I
often found myself nodding my head in agreement, wondering how she knew me so
well.
Through her works, I connected to a couple of friends. One of those was a college friend, Tara, who
was lucky enough to host AKR at her school in Thailand where she was working as
a librarian a few years ago. We both
loved AKR’s writing and Tara was sweet enough to send me temporary tattoos from
the swag AKR brought to her school. Given
AKR’s latest article, the message is especially pointed.
This fall, I read her latest memoir, Textbook Amy KR. It’s an easy read with lots of negative
space. For example, here's a page that struck such a chord I took a photo of it and posted it on my Instagram:
The book also provides many opportunities for readers to interact with one another and AKR. Readers could share images of rainbows, or enter a contest for AKR to send one lucky participant a pecan pie.
The book also provides many opportunities for readers to interact with one another and AKR. Readers could share images of rainbows, or enter a contest for AKR to send one lucky participant a pecan pie.
AKR sees the world through a charmed lens, and it is
heartbreaking to me to learn that her diagnosis is so grim. Her symbol is a yellow umbrella – something
bright and sunny on a grey day. I’ll
sport one of her temporary tattoos this weekend to remind me to rise above that
which is petty and draining, and to hug and smile and live a little more
deliberately. And to remember always one
of her best observations: Nothing >
Love.
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