29 July 2019
I was born at the tail end of the baby boom, a few months after the Beach Boys recorded "Wendy," a couple of days before LBJ defeated Goldwater, and mere weeks before my future-favorite-author-who-never-existed, the pseudonymous Carolyn Keene, published the forty-second Nancy Drew Mystery, The Phantom of Pine Hill.
A decade later, I devoured that book. Haunted mansion with a secret passage? Check. Vintage wedding gown and century-old sunken treasure? Check. Masked villains, gangsters and goons outwitted by Nancy and her BFFs? Triple badass chick check.