In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

130 Chapter Thirty-nine Brains, Books and Boys Walking back home, daypack filled with books, I see Grandpa sitting on his porch swing, and cross the street to join him. “Whatdya have in that heavy bag?” he asks. “Books.” “Don’t be wasting your hard-earned money on books!” “I didn’t buy them, Grandpa. I was at the library,” I say, quietly regretting I didn’t own them. “You’re never gonna get a husband if you keep reading all those books. If you smile nice at the restaurant, a nice boy will ask you on a date. But, if he finds out about those books, he won’t date you. You get too smart, and the boys lose interest. Just smile at them. Don’t say too much.” “Oh, Grandpa! It’s not like that anymore. Only families go to the restaurant , and old people. Boys don’t hang out at Veurink’s Kitchen. And it don’t matter how much I smile at these customers, they don’t tip anyways.” “Oh, they pay enough to eat there. They shouldn’t have to tip.” “Want to play Aggravation I say?” Grandpa made the game board himself, and I think it’s just the game we need right now. We go inside his apartment and he hauls out the heavy board. Grandma is cleaning houses today. Even though neither of them read, Grandma would have rolled her eyes so Grandpa couldn’t have seen her, if she heard Grandpa make that comment about books and boys. The only book in their home is the Bible, and it’s written in Dutch. We say nothing while we play the game. Grandpa prefers it to be quiet, but he doesn’t really like to be alone. Every morning after he sees that we’ve walked past his house on the way to school, he heads over to have coffee with Mom in the kitchen. I wonder what they could possibly talk about, since neither seem to be great conversationalists. I do know they enjoy speaking in Dutch, and figure they probably cut out coupons, and Grandpa is probably checking on Mom to make sure she’s okay, and we have food in our cupboards. Diane Payne 131 “I remember when you were born,” Grandpa says. In many ways, I think I’m Grandpa’s favorite grandkid because he brought Mom to the hospital when I was born. “Your ma called me and said to hurry. We never used hospitals. The women had their babies at home. None of this fancy hospital stuff.” “If I ever have a baby, I think I’ll do it at home with a midwife,” I tell Grandpa. “Nah, you go to the hospital. You won’t get a husband if you keep reading those books.” “What am I going to do in college if I don’t read books?” “You ain’t going to college. Your ma never told me that. Girls don’t need to go to college. You go to college after you’ve been in the military and the GI Bill pays for it. Girls don’t need all that schooling. Your dad can get you a good job at the factory. That’s where you’ll meet a good husband.” I start conjuring up images of the men I’ll meet who are like my dad, and this makes me more determined to never work at GM. “I don’t want to work at a factory or waitress all my life. I want to be a teacher or social worker. I need to go to college.” “Who’s going to pay for all that?” “I will.” “Things ain’t the same no more,” Grandpa says, getting that sad look that comes too quickly. “I win,” he says, sounding like Eeyore from the Pooh books, which makes me laugh, but he doesn’t know why. Grandpa starts picking up the game, his way of saying it’s time to go. Walking past the five houses between our homes, I wave and shout greetings to all the neighbors sitting on their steps, feeling the books pound against my back, as I wonder how I’ll ever make it into college, and even if I don’t get to go, I’ll still keep reading, and I’ll never have a boyfriend that doesn’t appreciate books. Looking at all the houses on our blocks, I realize how few contain a bookshelf, how few people...

Share