Dear Old Cricket,
I am astounded that Cricket is fifty years old! When I first subscribed in 1976, I didn’t know that my favorite magazine was so young. Cricket has immeasurably impacted my life, and that is no exaggeration.
I still remember my first issue (September 1976)—tan cover, red-hooded girl on the front. I was nine. I had received a flier in the mail a couple months prior and nervously gotten up the courage to hint to my dad that he buy the magazine for me. He agreed. From 1976 through 1980, I eagerly awaited the arrival of each issue and immediately pored over it cover to cover, including every letter, every Cricket League winner, the names and hometowns of all the Honorable Mentions, all the antics of Everybuggy, all the steps of the recipes I was not allowed to try, and every word of even the articles that bored me.
I always loved stories, particularly folktales from around the world, and those were what I eagerly devoured first. I can still effortlessly recall many of them, since I read them over and over: “A Furl of Fairy Wind” (July 1978), “Where Blond People Come that I became familiar with Elizabeth Coatsworth and Lloyd Alexander, who were among my favorites, and I went on to read their books. I met Tyl Uilenspiegel (March 1978) in your pages and the Turkish tricksters, Ahmet and Mehmet (April 1977). I was haunted and enchanted by poems including “The Lesson” by John Ciardi (June 1980) and “My Hot Get Feet” (April 1977). I can recite most of these poems still. I grew enamored of the art of Trina Schart Hyman.
