Editors Note: One of the first columnists that we hired at the Red Hook Star-Revue was local girl gone famous Danette Vigilante. She is a noted publisher of children’s books, and we invited her to write a column that we called Growing Up Red Hook. In view of all the recent publicity around the Red Hook Library, we are re-publishing here here March 2011.
Back when I was hiding beneath my covers fighting the sand man all in the name of, ‘just one more chapter,’ I had no idea becoming an author was something that anyone could do. In fact, it seemed so out of reach that I never entertained the idea just as I wouldn’t have entertained the idea of trying to sprout wings or spinning straw into gold. But you know as well as I do, that life is funny and if you don’t take hold of the reins or at least acknowledge that something is going on around you, life will whip you around faster than Willow Smith’s hair (oh, how I wish I could do that without my head twisting off)!
But, I’m getting ahead of myself so I’ll back up a bit.
While I was busy going about my business of, you know, trying to figure my young self out, my third grade report card informed my parents that I needed help in reading. READING people! Me? I thought my teacher at PS 27 had surely lost her mind. She must’ve gotten me confused with that other wild haired kid. The one who tried to become invisible during math lessons …
Since I was the type of kid who just couldn’t stand not having the last word (sorry, mom), I set off to the Red Hook Library (first Clinton Street then Walcott Street) just to prove my teacher wrong and once I had the evidence, I planned to hold it up for all the world to see. Yes, I planned on laughing the laugh of a crazed villain all the while reading the biggest, fattest, most juiciest book the library had to offer. Or Judy Blume—whichever. Only then would I retreat back to being the sweet curly headed kid I normally was. Yes, I’d fold my hands neatly on top of my desk and politely listen as my teacher apologized and begged forgiveness; which of course, I’d grant since I was never one to hold a grudge.
If I remember correctly, I walked into the library quite pleasantly, if not a tiny bit smug. I was there to spread the news; my teacher was wrong. I. Was. A. Fantastic. Reader. A different world awaited me inside that library. One filled with soft voices coming together to form sentences I couldn’t quite make out. Were those already seated discussing some great secret?
The air held an unfamiliar scent. Paper and ink? The sun’s warmth streaming in and heating up the walls? The wooden shelves? All three mixed together? I couldn’t be sure but it didn’t matter; it wasn’t horrible. After all, I had a point to prove. Funny though, how once I found myself standing directly in front of all sorts of books, their thicknesses were no longer important. Villain laughter died in my throat before it had the chance to live. I had suddenly become greedy for whichever book called out to me.
Once my arms were full of books, I sat amongst the other secret keepers, for I was now one too and together, yet separately, we’d each get lost inside a book.
Danette Vigilante is a children’s author living in New York City with one husband, two daughters, Mr. Noodle, her love hog Yorkshire terrier and Daisy, a cat with a seriously bad attitude. Her newest book, The Trouble with Half a Moon, is in local bookstores and available for purchase online at Amazon and other booksellers.
