I love Emily Post. I love manners. When I was a young teen I discovered a copy of "Emily Posts Book of Ettiquite" tucked in with my mother's hundreds of mystery books that lined the bookshelves in our home.
I loved it's faded blue cover and thin as could be pages. I loved the little drawings of place settings and calling cards. I loved the pages of examples of proper greetings. "Mrs. Smith may I introduce you to Mary.", "Mary, May I introduce you to Mrs. Smith."
Right next to Emily on the bookcase was a copy of "Marjorie Morningstar". The story of a young girl's journey from summers at camp to the heartache of first love, the discovery of self.
As all girls do, I would dream of the future and the woman I would become romanticizing that I would be Marjorie complete with manners to move about in polite society.
My husband will tell you about falling in love with me, that I didn't seem to be a young woman of my own times. I seemed to have my own code of behavior that set me apart from my peers.
I giggle now to think who I might have become had two books on a bookshelf not become my bedside companions.
But they were, and they shaped the woman I would become, and I am so grateful for this because I was just the person my true love was looking for.