When I was younger, nothing in the world made me happier than books.
I loved to read, was always reading; in fact, I actually got books taken away from me as a punishment because I was reading instead of doing schoolwork. The characters in my books were like friends; I knew them so well, knew everything about them and couldn't wait to go on more adventures with them.
One of my favorite fictional pals was Nancy Drew.
I loved Nancy Drew books; I relished every one I read. I remember the first one I ever opened, "The Secret of the Wooden Lady," a hand-me-down from my mom or one of my aunts. I even remember my mom recommending Nancy Drew to me, telling me how much she'd once enjoyed reading them. I even played Nancy Drew on the elementary school playground with my (real live) friends Krista and Kelly. (I took the part of Nancy's friend George Fayne).
When I saw the previews for the new Nancy Drew movie recently, I couldn't help feeling nostalgic -- so nostalgic that on a visit to my local library, I found myself in the young adult section and chose two of the old mysteries to take home and read. They were just like I remembered. Sure, my reading tastes have evolved, but opening a Nancy Drew book was like stepping back into my childhood, if only for a little while, until I realized that while the books are the same, I am not.
Even when I was little, I recognized the dated quality of the books -- particularly some of the language (in one, George's favorite expression is "hypers," which even at age eight I would have found goofy) -- I'm not sure I fully grasped the ridiculousness of the whole thing when I was young. Back then, it didn't occur to me how weird it was that all the folks around town all the 18-year-old Nancy as an amateur sleuth or that she and her friends hardly ever called the police or that her father actually condoned her going into potentially deadly situations. Now, of course, I have a more realistic view.
But that doesn't mean I'm feeling any less nostalgic, especially after a mysterious phone call I received two days ago. I was on my way home from work when my cell phone rang. I fumbled for my phone but missed the call and ended up with an automated voice mail message from Emma Roberts, who plays Nancy Drew in the new movie. Whoever sent the message entered details about me on a Web site, provided my phone number and the system generated a "personalized" message for me. While it wasn't as cool as the automated Samuel L. Jackson message promoting last year's "Snakes On A Plane," this voice mail entertained me...but it perplexed me as well.
Who sent me this message? And why did they get so many details about me wrong?
Suddenly, I found myself embroiled in a real life mystery! Hypers!
The only clues I have are quotes from the message itself.
"One of your friends wanted me to check up on you in Indiana." Actually, I don't live in Indiana. When I first listened to the message, I thought she'd said something about my friend being in Indiana, so I called the only friend I have who lives there, but she insisted she hadn't done it. I listened again and realized that the person who sent the message doesn't live in Indiana but thinks I do.
"You've got an ipod crammed full of classic rock, you're up to your ears in the newest Us Weekly and you've got more friends than you can count on AOL." While I do have some classic rock on my ipod, I wouldn't call myself a big classic rock fan. I have read Us Weekly about three times my whole life, and actually, I can count the number of my friends on AOL -- one one hand. I'm not sure who would have thought of me as a classic rock and Us Weekly fan, but I suppose whoever it was could have chosen AOL because he or she is on AOL, which leaves exactly four suspects.
"I hear you have awesome taste in clothes. So throw on your favorite designer outfit and call up your friends, you know, the in crowd, and tell them to forget getting a mani pedi. Instead, you want to go see 'Nancy Drew.'" This clue was the most telling. Obviously, whoever sent me the message does not know me at all. Awesome taste in clothes? Designer outfit? Mani pedi? Well, maybe the mani pedi thing could fly -- I do enjoy a little girly pampering once in awhile, but the closest thing I have to a designer outfit is my Nick and Nora pajamas.
One additional clue was provided by someone who called just a few minutes after I received the mysterious Nancy Drew call and didn't leave a message. Did this person want to know if I'd received a strange voice mail? Perhaps.
I'm still reviewing the clues. I have it narrowed down to a few suspects, but I wouldn't want to falsely accuse anyone. But I vow to get to the bottom of this mystery -- I wouldn't want to let down my favorite girl sleuth.
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