It was a sign from the gods or something. Bantam Doubleday Dell booked her reading in Portland, Oregon, on my (34th) birthday! Feeling inspired by the cosmic alliance of planets, I even talked my way into an interview with her a week before her appearance in Portland. Even better, I landed it only fifteen minutes after I found out the date of her visit to Portland. Obviously, the planets were doing some groovy dance.

After spending the last ten years in the book business, I don't get star-struck very easily, but Judy Blume was a different beast. For so many torturous years, she was the only person who UNDERSTOOD. She was the quintessential anthropologist covering puberty in America. She helped us know what was normal, okay, exciting. God, I spent so many hours in front of a mirror, looking for signs that my breasts were growing. You don't know (or maybe you do?) how relieved I was to meet Margaret - a thoughtful girl who also wondered when she'd fill out her first bra. Deenie was so alive and vibrant, despite that confining brace - such a symbol to me of what my teenage years might bring. Though, interestingly, I could never figure out what "special place" she was talking about that she could touch and feel relaxed. [Aspiring censors, take note: make too big of a deal over "taboo subjects" and you'll educate young readers in all the matters from which you hope to protect them; kids are only capable of understanding what they are READY to understand. Period.]

On Wednesday, May 27th, 1998, I called Judy at her hotel in Denver. My fingers shook as I dialed the number. "Judy, it's me, Cathy, from OregonLive. I don't know if you remember me…"

"Of course I remember you! You were the first person I ever sent e-mail to! You are cafephreak!" Oh, god… Judy Blume knows who I am! Oh wow… oh, frabjous day, caloo, calay! (or however that Jabberwocky thing goes).

We talked. I mean… Judy Blume and I talked ON THE PHONE! We did. I was so nervous. I asked her questions that I don't even remember asking. I thought, oh… thank god that I am recording this because I am such a spastic mess right now, and I can't focus clearly enough on what she's talking about.

But guess what? That tape of the conversation got completely garbled. I was only able to rescue the very first part of the conversation. All of the rest, the BEST part, is completely inaudible. I was more than devastated when I discovered this. I cried. I felt humiliated and embarrassed. I was too afraid to call BDD and tell them what had happened. I decided to wing it as best as I could.

A few days later I sent mail to Judy and her husband, George (who created her web site). "I'm sorry for screwing up! I tried to save as much of it as I could. Ack! Portland is SO READY for your visit!"

George (to whom I haven't done justice yet… if all of the women you love so much could marry such smart, groovy men, the world would be a MUCH better place. George is a good one, and his own sparkle doesn't fade in the slightest around the amazing Judy Blume. How absolutely cool that such nice people found each other!) sent e-mail back that said they thought the interview turned out fine, considering the circumstances. He said that Judy was looking forward to meeting me. (I thought that was sweet. I felt glad that they weren't MAD AT ME.)

So… am I going on too long? Are you bored? I thought long and hard about HOW MUCH to describe, and I decided that it was most important to the 9-year-old inside of me to tell the WHOLE story. That is what I would have done back then, and that is what I am doing now. I figure that y'all can skim if I am conveying too much detail, but the detail - to me - is key.

Thursday, June 4th, finally arrived. Judy was quite touched by the large turn-out for her reading (somewhere between 200 -300, I think). In fact, she cried a little bit in happiness over the size of the crowd. She said how much -- when she was in her 20's and hoping to publish a book someday -- she had fantasized that people would READ her, listen to her, engage in her stories, but she had NO IDEA what sort of impact she would make on readers' lives. She had no idea that her career would turn into what it has. She was 100% present with all of us there. Judy Blume came across as everything I ever imagined/ hoped she might be: an honest, warm person who wasn't afraid to talk about what's REALLY important. And she did so that night. She was very candid about her writing, how she feels about her career, and what she was thinks about both her critics and her readers. No matter how many interviews and readings she'd given during the weeks before on the Summer Sisters tour (a LOT! BDD booked a GRAND, generous tour for her and Summer Sisters), she was fresh and open with us here in Portland.

When the book signing part of the event finally began, the line to meet her snaked back almost a mile, and boy! it sure took forever to move an inch. She must have been engaging meaningfully with each and every one of her fans, but I couldn't see. I was all the way back at the end of the line! After 45 minutes or so of zero movement in the line, a man called out, "Is Cathy Young here?" Embarrassed, I waved my hand a bit. He called out, "Good, we didn't want to miss you." Eventually, that man came over to me in line and introduced himself to me as George. He and I had a great talk about the Web and authors and what works online. (What a great person! may I say that again, please?)

Finally, I got up to the book signing table. "Judy, I'm Cathy Young."

Well, bless her soul, she got up and hugged me! Judy Blume and I hugged each other! She said she was really glad to meet me. (God, if you knew me, you'd know it is hard for me to admit that it was true, but she was so authentic, so warm that it would be rude for me to dismiss her welcome. She WAS glad to meet me.) She was SO INCREDIBLY NICE. She was the Judy Blume I adored when I was 9 and a million times more. She told the story of how she wrote her very first e-mail to me, to cafephreak. I told her how that piece of e-mail "made my life" - which it did, really. The proudest moment of my whole life was the time I opened my email box and read her message.

Well, maybe that's not true anymore…

Maybe the proudest moment of my whole life is hugging Judy Blume, in Portland, Oregon, on my 34th birthday. Yeah, I think that's it. How LUCKY I am!

You couldn't have pried the smile off my face with a crowbar when I left Powell's that night. On the way to my car, I kept thinking about Cathy-the-9-year-old, excitedly writing a book report about Are You There, God? It's Me Margaret for my fourth grade teacher. I felt like such a mature girl for reading that book because it was one of the very first chapter books I had ever read on my own, and it spoke to me so deeply about such "secret" things. I remember that, when Mr. Martin (a male teacher! just like Margaret's teacher, Mr. Benedict!) gave me back my book report, I blushed deeply - embarrassed and worried that maybe he was embarrassed to know that girls get periods (convoluted thinking - a 9-year-old's speciality!).

I wished I could have been a genie and gone back in time to whisper into young Cathy's ear: "Cathy, guess what? Someday, Judy Blume will look forward to meeting you and will tell you so, and on that night you will feel full and proud and at home in the world."

Me?

Yeah, me.

I am WAY okay, and Judy Blume helped me get there by being her groovy self and by accepting me -- and all the other Margarets, Tonys and Deenies out there.

Thank you, Judy. 25 years later you matter to me EVEN MORE than ever.

--cathy