RIP, Anne Cath
The last of my childhood's favourite authors died today. Anne Cath Vestly became 88 years old, and published her last book four years ago. She wrote more than 50 books, several with rather radical messages. Like the Aurora books, in which Aurora has a working janitor mum and a Ph.D. candidate stay-at-home father. Absolutely lovely books. Anne Cath also told a story in the 50s on the "children's hour" about a boy who was about to become a big brother, and described how the baby was in the mother's womb. Oh the outrage! So she had a "children's hour for grownups" at night, telling a story of three kids who were discussing where they came from. Two of them said the kind of drivel kids were served when the parents didn't want to touch how reproduction really worked, while the third said he came from his mother's womb. "Ahhh," sighed the other two, "If only it were that easy!" Lol - I'm quite proud that my granddad, who was a colleague of hers in NRK (our BBC), openly supported her on her quest. And almost at the same time that she drew her last breath in the early hours of this day, I got an enthusistic reply from the editor of the Soul Coaching anthology, praising my essay. So a great author dies while another one is taking baby steps towards publishing her first 3500 words... It feels very strong and strange and sad and uplifting.