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Dear America Books are FAKE!!

This is the latest post on my blog, Blue Pencil Diaries.

When I was nine, there was nothing I loved to read more than those Dear America books for kids. My adventure-loving mind gobbled up every bit of the supposed diaries of real girls throughout history. A compulsive diary writer even then, I loved the thought of reading actual girl’s diaries. What a fascinating thought that their journals had been preserved so long.

Your life is nothing but a lie, Julie
One day, I picked up a book “written by a little Jewish girl during the Holocaust.” At the time I was very interested in the authors name printed on the inside cover of a book. That was mostly because I dreamt of someday seeing my own name printed on the inside of my own novel. After I read the name, I wished that I had never let my eyes drift past the pages of the book. The book was not written by a real little girl. The name was totally different than the name of the star of the book. For a moment I sat in shock. After rereading it, I had a sudden vision of a lying, sniveling insect of an old lady who pretended to be a little girl all for money. How could anyone stoop so low? I couldn’t even fathom it. I screamed and hurled down that grimy book.
Later that evening I told my mother about my horrific discovery, hoping that somehow I’d been mistaken. Perhaps she would assure me that the book really was written by a girl in history, and simply edited by an old lady. Instead, she confirmed my fears. Having been obsessed with the books, I felt that my entire life was a fallacy. The next few nights I couldn’t sleep. Instead I plotted revenge against that insect; I may have been small but I planned to make that con artist pay.
The realization that I was reading a lie denied every hope I had. I’d imagined my own diary becoming an epic novel which girls of the future would read. That dream gave me energy and a reason to write.When I found out my favorite true stories were fiction, my faith in myself was decimated.
Eventually my rage subsided and was replaced by a faint sickness in the pit of my stomach which was released whenever I was reminded of how I'd been fooled.
Sure, these books may be educational. They, when seen for their true selves, are a fun way of taking a peek into history. Yet I don’t think I can ever come to terms with those feelings of being tricked. I can’t see myself ever allowing a child to believe Dear America books were really a little girl’s diary.
So now you know why last week I was so upset at seeing my little sister reading a Dear America book about a little Jewish girl in the Holocaust.


Something tells me those of us who weren't exposed to these books should be glad that they weren't. At least with the Boxcar Children, we knew they were fiction.
Okay... brace yourself, but there's no Easter Bunny. *sigh* You probably don't care, because you're probably Jewish anyway (maybe you're not; it doesn't matter) but, just so you know... he was real to many of us. Not to me; not ever... okay, maybe just for a little while, but anyway. So now that you know, not about the Easter Bunny, but your formerly favorite child author, let me just ask you... were you entertained? Alright-alright--I know you feel duped, I mean, an old lady?! *sigh(again)* I'm gonna go out on a limb here, but I'm guessing (this is just a guess) that it might be (just might)... that at one time... (brace yourself again) that... that old lady might have been a little Jewish girl once...once upon a time.... (just maybe). She could've at least said so, right, that it was made up, you know... the diaries, that she made them up, like somewhere on the back cover or something.

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