In Charlottesville, Part 1

There I was in Charlottesville last week for the Virginia Festival of the Book, heading out to one of the local schools I visited as part of my festival festivities--and what crossroads do I happen upon but one with my name on it. . . . Levy Avenue was named, it's safe to assume, for Uriah P. Levy, a naval officer and veteran of the War of 1812, known for his campaign to stop the practice of flogging as a form of discipline in the U.S. Navy and for his purchase of Thomas Jefferson's then-crumbling Monticello in 1834.  No relation to me.I took my photograph and continued on into the rolling hills of Albemarle County to Walton Middle School, where I talked with seventh and eight grade students about writing, life, history, and The Year of Goodbyes.  Although I'd been invited to the festival for my more recent books, Walton's librarian and teachers had asked me to focus on this book about my mother's last year living in Nazi Germany as a girl.  I love talking about The Year of Goodbyes, but this was the first time I'd taken it to a school since I lost Mom in September.  When I packed for my five-day stay in Charlottesville, I made sure to bring a particular piece of jewelry--a pin in the shape of a flower, one of her many items of costume jewelry that she loved.  The flower pin was a favorite of hers, and I thought I'd wear it as a way of bringing her with me into the schools to share her story.The kids at Walton were terrific.  They may be a little wound up, the librarian apologized before the first group, because they were coming from lunch.  (It was still morning, but you know those early lunch periods in schools.)  They may be a little out of control, she warned before the second group, because they were nearing the end of the day.  But--no, and no. They were neither wound up nor out of control.These were assemblies, and the kids held their questions until the end.  Inevitably, they asked where my mother was, so I had to tell them that she had died recently.  Ohh, they exhaled.  I wanted them to know that she'd lived a good long time, and when I said that she was nearly 87 when she died, they seemed to feel a little better.  And then I told them how she would have loved joining me on this trip, because she absolutely loved Charlottesville and had been here many times--especially, way back when she was young, for college fraternity parties (gasp! the kids went) when she traveled down from D.C.  She came to see one of her many boyfriends, Herbie, and they had a grand time. . . .I'm not sure why, but the verbal picture I drew of my mother coming to U.Va. frat parties in the days when you dressed up to go out, even to a frat party, when the guys wore trousers, not jeans, just made the kids laugh out loud.  Me, too.  And at that moment I realized that I'd forgotten to put her pin on before leaving the hotel; it was in my suitcase, not on my sweater.No matter.  Mom was with me and the kids anyway.