Warren Piece

By the time I was 8 years old, I knew I sucked at Math. It was a fact, a part of me, like being a short, middle child, with a phobic fear of crickets. I abhorred math; to this day, I still have trouble with the 9 times table. I have to start at 9 x 5, and work my way up or down. (God help me if I ever forget what 9 x 5 is...it's 46, right?)

Next to the phrase "nest of crickets", the words "Word Problems", to this day, make me want to run screaming from the room; once, in 4th grade, I did just that, and hid in the coat room for an hour. Being such a stellar student, no one actually missed me; I just got hungry for lunch and came out, nonchalantly wearing my coat.

Remember Nancy Kerrigan after she got whacked in the knee by Tanya Harding, wailing on the floor: "WHHYYY??? WHHHHYYY??". That heart-rendering drama show was actually first enacted by me, during the Math portion of The Iowa Test in 1958, when I read these words: 

If a train leaves Paddington Station at 2:25 on Wednesday, going 125 miles per hour through dense fog, what time would it arrive in Petticoat Junction, 58 miles away?

"WHHHYYYY? WHHHYYY?" Followed closely by "WHO CARES???"

Now, my father was a "Math Person", and although I know he thought the sun rose and set with me, I also know that he could never understand why his middle child was so damn stupid in math. I'd stare at a problem he was trying to explain, and see fairies dancing with dachshunds. He looked in my eyes, and could see the fairies dancing. I smiled. The dachshunds were so cute!

Here's the thing, though: I was an excellent reader. Loved to read: reading was my thing, fairly genius ability at reading, I think.  My father knew this, and was very proud (probably relieved that his only daughter, with absolutely no skills in long division, wouldn't be left homeless and destitute after all, as it appeared she did know how to read.)

But after the results of the Iowa Test came home, I needed to strengthen my status as Favorite Child, so I asked my father what book was the longest book he ever read; he told me, and I went directly to the library. I looked everywhere for this book, and finally went to the front desk, annoyed now because this search was severely cutting into my Nancy Drew and the Secret at Blackbird Pond reading time:

Me (petulantly, age 8): "I'm looking for a book, I think it's a biography, but I can't find it: can you please help me?" (Although petulant, I was also polite, this being the beginning of the "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers" phase of my life, as popularized by Scarlett O'Hara.)

Librarian (unimpressed, age 100): "What is the name of the book? Who is it about? " (Librarians obviously never used contractions when speaking, back in The Day.)

Me: "Warren Piece".

Librarian: "Never heard of it."

Now I knew this librarian chick had the Dewey Decimal System in her soul; she may even have had it tattooed somewhere on her body, she was Just. That. Good. So if she never heard of it, it just wasn't a freaking book. I told my father that later.

 "Dad!" (petulant doesn't even begin to cover it) "Warren Piece isn't the name of a real book, and WHHYYYY, WHHYYYY did you embarrass me like that?"

In response, I believe he sent me to my room to practice the 9 times table.