
My cul-de-sac was reported to be haunted; not near my house, but at the other end. Most of the mysterious events seemed to be in proximity to the abandoned (vacant with a “For Rent” sign out front) house on the street. I had a carefully neutral response when informed by my daughter of the alleged haunting, but as a whole I was pleased–a haunted cul-de-sac is certainly interesting. At least as long as it’s the other end . . .
As the unexplained incidents increased, it seemed like we might need to prepare for a Ghostbuster’s style end-of-the-world battle scenario. But instead of succumbing to fear of the unknown, my daughter and her crony, in true Nancy Drew style, founded a detective agency to investigate.

I don’t recall having read Nancy Drew books except for when her path crossed with the Hardy Boys and they collaborated on a mystery. For my daughter, however, they have been a source of entertainment–both during the reading and then during the inspired adventures. With a sleuth bag in which carry detective gear, one is always ready for a mystery.
There was much detectiving and investigation as the girls went up and down the cul-de-sac and deliberated in their office (the gazebo). Eventually I was informed that all of the mysterious occurrences had a logical explanation. I think this was a relief to my daughter who replaced fear of the unknown with confidence of comprehension. However, now she needs another mystery. Also, I will miss living on a haunted cul-de-sac . . .








I have long been familiar with Tolkien’s The Hobbit and also The Lord of the Rings, but remained mostly ignorant of his other works apart from a 1982 print of The Silmarillion which somehow ended up in my collection. This past Mother’s Day my wife received a couple volumes of other Tolkien tales and I noticed in one that among the “other books by the author” it listed The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and was intrigued enough to order it in a volume combined with Farmer Giles of Ham.
The first book is a 45 year old Le Petit Prince in the original French. I believe I stole it from my parents’ home and it most likely was previously claimed by my mother or sister. I remember as a kid reading an English translation (which my parents probably still have along with another French copy) and enjoying the story while marveling that my parents and sister could read it. Later when I was studying French I read portions of the text and experienced the story in new ways because I was forced to slow down (and often read it aloud).