As a child, I was an insatiable reader. Every week, my father and I would visit the library after dinner, where I would spend one to two hours selecting more than ten books to tide me over until our next trip. I devoured all the classics—Nancy Drew, the Boxcar Children, Roald Dahl’s tales, and the Baby-Sitters Club. Yet, over thirty years later, one character remains etched in my memory: Ramona Quimby.
Naturally, I explored all of Beverly Cleary’s works, immersing myself in the friendships of Ellen and Austine, and learning about Henry Huggins and his paper route. Still, the Ramona series captured my heart like no other. I read each book multiple times, and when I stumbled upon the TV series on video at the library, I borrowed it endlessly.
The concept of “payday”—the day Ramona’s father brings home a special treat after payday—struck a chord with me. I insisted my father adopt this ritual, and though he offered me a dollar, I explained that the treat needed to be a small, thoughtfully chosen item. I craved the same thrill and anticipation that Ramona felt. I understood that, for her, even a modest gift symbolized her father’s love. It’s no surprise that my love language is receiving gifts.
The Ramona books didn’t feature fantastical creatures or far-off adventures. Instead, they told the story of a girl navigating her everyday world, feeling emotions as real children do against an authentic backdrop. Beverly Cleary brilliantly wove in themes that remain relevant even over 50 years later. Issues like financial struggles, parental disputes, and feelings of inadequacy were addressed openly, unlike in many other children’s books. These elements were seamlessly integrated into Ramona’s life, not added for dramatic effect but presented as genuine experiences.
I connected deeply with Ramona’s feelings of shame for wearing pajamas instead of a full sheep costume, her envy as she watched her neighbor Howie enjoy his dinner while she waited, hungry, for her parents, and her desire to help alleviate her father’s financial worries after he lost his job. These emotions mirrored my own.
Beverly Cleary understood that children observe their parents and their surroundings, and these observations evoke powerful feelings. Ramona’s misbehavior wasn’t a sign of being “bad” but rather a reflection of the weight she felt on her young shoulders. Through her character, Cleary reassured us that it’s normal to feel anxious or uncomfortable. When Ramona eventually realizes her parents’ love and her own safety, it serves as a comforting reminder that everything will be okay. This message provided solace to me time and again.
Years later, when my daughter was born, I eagerly awaited the moment I could introduce her to Ramona. That moment arrived this past year. As my five-year-old delves into Ramona’s world, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. She has witnessed some of our family’s biggest challenges and uncertainties. Yet, I hope she is also realizing that even imperfect parents can offer boundless love.
Thank you, Beverly Cleary, for bringing Ramona Quimby into my life. You helped me see that the imperfections I faced were common yet significant. You conveyed these lessons with humor, simplicity, and warmth. As I reflect on this exchange from “Ramona and her Mother,” it’s clear that as a mother myself, I continue to learn from your books. Looks like I’ll be heading back to the library soon.
“Haven’t you noticed grown-ups aren’t perfect?” asked Mrs. Quimby. “Especially when they are tired.”
“Then why do you expect us kids to be so perfect all the time?” demanded Ramona.
“Good question,” said Mrs. Quimby. “I’ll have to think of an answer.”
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