Everything I need to know I learned from Charlotte’s Web

Apparently, trying to find a spider trinket in March is too much to ask.

If it were August or September – somewhere closer to Halloween – I’d have my choice: spiders with googly eyes and pipe cleaner legs; cutout spiders to sprinkle across a table; spider buttons; spider props; glow-in-the-dark spiders.

But it’s March, and Michael’s, my local big-box craft store, is primed for St. Patrick’s Day and Easter and spring with shamrocks and pastel eggs, bunny figurines and bushels of faux florals. Suddenly I understand why the people who count down the days to October 31 flock to Walt Disney World’s Haunted Mansion ride: They neeeed their off-season Halloween fix.

I literally have walked every aisle of the store looking from top shelf to bottom hoping to find some kind of spider tchotchke to use in an art project. I’m sure my thorough inspection has triggered a security camera somewhere because it must look like I’m casing the joint. I check out the sticker aisle, where I find plenty of dinosaurs and puppies and butterflies and even Spider-Man but no spiders. I peruse the ribbons and the washi tape hoping to spot a forgotten roll of something from spooky season. At this point, finding a spider trinket would be like finding a unicorn, which I did find in sticker form.

I’m not looking for a cartoony spider. I want something realistic. I admire spiders, actually, and will pause what I’m doing to watch them as long as there’s a respectful distance between us. Consider me a fan. As the girl who was called Four Eyes in grade school, I feel a bond with spiders because they, too, have multiple eyes. As a textile lover, I admire their ability to spin silk fibers. For a while, a photo of the Red Spider Nebula was the wallpaper on my computer screen. I still crank up Little Richard’s 1991 version of “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and dance. (Rock out with me here.)

IT’S POSSIBLE my interest in spiders can be traced back to third grade when my teacher, Mrs. Kunas, read a portion of Charlotte’s Web to us every day after we returned from recess but only if we settled down quickly. (Mrs. Kunas was clever that way.)

In Charlotte, author E.B. White created a character who inspired me. She used words cleverly and well – HUMBLE and TERRIFIC and RADIANT. She was a good friend.

Which brings me to my search for a spider. I am making a birthday present to give to Karyn. Next month, we both turn 70 within days of one another. She is a good friend.

We met in second grade. I was the new kid, just arrived in Salinas, Calif., from Statesville, NC. I remember standing in front of the class while Miss Canapary introduced me. I don’t remember what she said because I was too busy worrying about the fact that Miss Canapary’s class already knew how to write cursive and I didn’t.

Until my arrival midterm, Karyn had been the new kid. She quickly befriended me. We were in one another’s lives daily – riding bikes, having sleepovers, going to Girl Scouts. We joined 4-H together and learned how to sew and cook. We bonded over books — not just Charlotte’s Web but Stewart Little and Misty of Chincoteague and Beezus and Ramona. We went to vacation Bible school at her church. We hung out doing nothing and everything until junior high when her family moved to western Illinois.

But our lives kept intertwining. A few years after she moved, my family moved, too, to a suburb west of Chicago. Karyn and I kept in touch with letters, and one summer in high school I rode a Greyhound bus solo for what felt like forever in order to spend a week with her and her family. I was a bridesmaid in her wedding, but as our families and responsibilities expanded, we fell out of touch. Around the time our children were in college, Karyn sent email out of the blue – I think the subject line read A BLAST FROM THE PAST – and we picked up where we left off.

She is as much a sister as anyone related to me by blood. She was my first and last best friend because after she moved away in junior high, I stopped making friends. My life at home had gotten weird and I was too ashamed by what was happening to be friends with anyone. I put up barriers and kept secrets. I thought they’d keep me safe. What they did was keep me from people, including Karyn, but I carried her friendship in my heart.

FOR HER BIRTHDAY GIFT, I am matting and framing a page from Charlotte’s Web, and all I need to finish the project is some kind of spider to glue to the frame.

The last thing I want to do is order from Amazon, which I know could deliver the perfect spider to my doorstep by tonight. But curse Bezos! I scour the store for my Charlotte one last time.

I find my way to the jewelry supply aisle and squint at the bits and bobs: an array of good luck charms; an assortment of gold and silver initial letters; some glass evil eye beads. Next row: dogs, crystal hearts, bees. Next row: Stars and moons and suns and … AH! Six oval charms, black on white – three spider webs and three spiders about as big as a fingernail. I’m so happy I nearly skip to the cashier.

At home, I affix two of the spiders to the frame. The birthday gift is complete.

The page I’ve framed – 164 – is from a used paperback copy of Charlotte’s Web that I bought for $1 from our local Friends of the Library. It’s from the chapter titled “The Last Day” and describes Wilbur the pig’s realization that Charlotte is dying. I don’t know how Mrs. Kunas kept her composure as she read it aloud to a group of 8-year-olds. Supposedly, it took White 17 takes to read the scene for the audio version without breaking down in tears. The older I get, the more the reality of that chapter hits – the passage of time, the gift of friendship, one last goodbye.

“You have been my friend,” replied Charlotte. “That in itself is a tremendous thing.”

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