I have a niece who is beautiful, creative, sensitive, kindhearted, and intelligent. I’ve said she’s like me, but the 2.0 version because she’s been encouraged to cultivate her artistic talents and has been doing so ever since she was little. She just graduated from Perpich Arts High School, and I couldn’t be prouder of her. I’ve recently stopped saying she’s Minna 2.0, however, because she’s her own person and deserves to be treated as such. Additionally, I don’t have many fond memories of Minna 2.0*, so I don’t want to insult her with the comparison. In fact, I don’t like to think of the past mes at all, in part because I feel absolutely no connection with them.
Minna 1.0 was a fat, anxious, nervous, moody, withdrawn child. Even though I grew out of it to a certain extent, I was a loner throughout school. I don’t remember much of my pre-college years, but what I do fills me with sadness. Little snippets of me playing by myself or eating by myself or other kids making fun of me are mostly what I remember. I was a voracious reader, in part because I love escaping into fantastical worlds that were nothing like this one. Even when heartbreaking events occurred, there was some comfort in that they weren’t happening to me. I loved the adventures of Laura in the Little House on the Prairie series, Pippi Longstocking and how weird and independent she was, A Wrinkle in Time, Lois Lowry, and almost anything else I could get my hands on. Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Encyclopedia Brown, and Trixie Belden were all high on my list of must-reads. My love for mysteries started at an early age. I also read a lot to get away from the tension in my house and because I didn’t have any friends.