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" entertaining. I saw some Ramona in my freckled, skinny self. As a member of the Boy-Haters’ Club of America, I especially enjoyed laughing along as she chased Davy around the playground in Ramona the Pest. I didn’t think of myself as a pest, per se, but I did my fair share of terrorizing boys when the moment called for it. The moment often did call for it, since I was a true and loyal member of the BHCA. We met sporadically, whenever we were near the clubhouse, which was more often than you might think since it was an hour away. Our clubhouse was in the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia, on the second floor, behind an exhibit about dinosaurs. A set of carpeted steps led up to a large window with spectacular views that made it the ideal location for our meetings. There were two items on our agenda, and we had already done the first—singing the namesake song. My father wrote it, and the tune’s not very specific; it is most closely related to the opening for a local news show. Because it was so short we often sang it multiple times, as we did that day, the quality of our performances going down with each repetition. Once we’d settled down from that, it was time for the second half of our club business. "
― , The Reading Promise: My Father and the Books We Shared