I remember going to the library with my mother in Irvington, New Jersey. We walked there from our two-family house on Campfield Street. The library card was magic. Possessing it meant we could leave the library with as many books as our arms could carry. My mother often sat with my sister and I flanked at her sides with the treasure on her lap, and she would read aloud. We’d take turns turning the pages.

Years later my husband and I would re-enact this scenario with our own daughter. The other day she gifted me: she read an English essay out loud to me while we drove to her music lesson. I had forgotten how wonderful it was to be read to.

I recorded an audiobook version of my new memoir. I really enjoyed reading it out loud and if you want me to read to you, just visit Amazon.com. It’ll be like the old days.