September
- October 2004
Paula Danziger and I met some fifteen years ago when I invited her to come speak at our Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators national conference in Los Angeles. I thought I was inviting the Paula Danziger from the book flap – the funny, perceptive, talented author of young adult fiction. She was that all right, but little did I know then, she was so much more. Within hours of our first meeting, Paula had whisked me off to the video arcade on the Santa Monica Pier where we played some heavy duty skeeball – while she scooped the win tickets into her royal blue cape and redeemed them for several plastic noses that dispensed snot colored chewing gum. From that moment on, seamlessly, we became friends – the kind of girlfriend you dreamed of having in the fourth grade but could never pull off. We got rhinestone pedicures, ate sushi on both coasts, and
went shopping for basics like that plastic reindeer that produced a perfect little root beer flavored jelly bean when you lifted his tail. I trust some of you received that as a Christmas gift. I know I did.
Paula taught me how to use email so we could talk across the distance. We sent each other silly questionnaires:
QUESTION: Which do you prefer, sports car or SUV?
PAULA: Car service.
QUESTION: Can you juggle?
PAULA: Only my checkbook.
In my last email from her a couple of days before she got sick, she said: "Hello Lin, my dollink. Guess what?
Inexplicably, my spell check just popped up and said that Hello Lin was wrong and suggested hellion instead. Hello Hellion."
I'm bereft to lose such an irrepressible and irreplaceable friend, who no matter what happened to her, reached out and made you feel good.
But it's in addressing Paula's friendship to the children's book community that I think I can offer a unique perspective. Paula was a beloved member of the Board of Advisors of the SCBWI. She played a huge role in building our organization, traveling from state to state, speaking at conferences. She was an inspired teacher, a relentless giver, a reacher-outer who brought newcomers into the circle and made them feel valued and welcomed. More than any single person I know, Paula was a community builder, offering her humor and generosity in one magnificent magnanimous sweep.
As our way to honor Paula's memory, the SCBWI is creating a chair in her name at the national conference. Each year we'll invite someone to give the Paula Danziger address. They'll have big shoes to fill – pink sequined Doc Martens.
Every year as we planned our national conferences, Paula would call with new ideas for speakers. Fabulous writers, artists, and editors she had just met. "Let me get Brian on the phone," she'd say to me. "Wait, I'll conference you in."
And so it went. She conferenced everyone in. David, Bruce, Margaret, Jodi, Peggy, Billy – she conferenced them all in. Often, I'd beg for mercy. "No, Paula," I'd beg. "Don't conference me in. No more conferencing me in today."
Well, darling Paula, now I see what you were doing – spinning a web, creating a community of friends and colleagues, expanding the tribe. In the end, it was the noblest and most enriching thing you could have done. You leave us behind stronger and more connected than we were before you came to us.
If only you could be here. If only we could conference you in now.
