As you've probably heard, the beloved children’s author Beverly Cleary passed away on March 25 at age 104. Because she lived so long, you just assumed somehow she’d always be here, so her death is still a shock despite her having lived for over a century.  Her first book, Henry Huggins, was published in 1950. She wrote it because a child asked her, “where are the books about us?,” and she realized there weren’t any books about regular, everyday kids who go to school, play, and sometimes get in trouble. Kids still want to see themselves reflected in what they read, so her books are still very popular today. It is not hyperbole to say you’d be hard pressed to find someone between the ages of eight and eighty who hasn’t been touched by her work. What an incredible legacy.

As a child, I devoured the Ramona books. I loved Ramona because she was spunky and had a big heart, but seemed to be in other people’s way all the time, just like me. I loved that she made a kitty cat out of the "Q" in “Quimby,” and I wished that my own last name had a "Q," so I could do the same. She had an older sister who loved her, but sometimes got annoyed with her, as did I.  I remember being in third grade in 1975, and  absolutely rushing to the school library on the day Ramona the Brave came out because I couldn’t wait to read it.

Even as an adult, Beverly Cleary continued to touch my life.  When I first moved to New York in 2001, I interviewed for a job at HarperCollins children’s books and to this day I am convinced I got the job because the person who hired me had a huge KLICKITAT ST. sign on the wall in his office, and, suffice to say, I was VERY excited when I saw it. He also had a framed photo of Beverly Cleary on his desk, which I identified immediately.

As a librarian, I will forever be grateful to Beverly Cleary because, even though I have a phobia of mice, I showed the film of The Mouse and The Motorcycle roughly a thousand times for various programs and class visits. The book, and its sequel Ralph S. Mouse, are always my “go to” books to recommend to parents of  young children who need something that will challenge their child who is reading above grade level, but is not yet ready for emotional content.

In my early days as a children’s librarian, I read Dear Mr. Henshaw, for which Cleary won the Newbery Medal in 1983.  By then, I was in high school, well beyond Cleary’s target audience, so I didn’t discover the book until I started working in the library. I was struck by how different it was from the Ramona books I had loved. There are no Ramona-esque hijinks and certainly no supportive Quimby family. The book centers on Leigh Botts, a young boy who is bullied at school and whose parents are getting divorced. What remained the same though, was Cleary’s gift for accessible, relatable language that kids understand, but doesn’t talk down to them. For a school assignment, Leigh writes to his favorite author, one Boyd Henshaw. Coincidentally, at that time I also happened to have written to a hero of mine, so even as an adult, I related to Leigh’s agonizing wait for a response. I, like Leigh, did finally receive one, which, thankfully, was much kinder than the one Leigh initially receives from Henshaw.

In 2016, when Cleary turned 100, NYPL asked its librarians why they love her.  The responses range from “because she was honest with children about children’s experiences” to “she taught me to be VERY careful before slamming an egg against my forehead.” I hope that one hundred years from now, if librarians still exist, they will be  echoing these sentiments about one of the greatest, most influential, yet remarkably humble, children’s authors of all time.