When I heard that Grace Paley had died, I went to the bookshelf and pulled out a collection of her short stories that I purchased in New Haven Connecticut at Atticus Bookstore. I had not read Grace Paley before that time, though she had obviously been around, writing, a long time; the photo on the cover of the book showing a white haired woman in comfortable clothes that spoke of another generation. I loved her work. I was glad I had taken so long to "discover" her because now I had volumes of her stories to read that she had already written. I wouldn't have to wait on her next book to sink into the worlds she allowed me to enter. Today, however, I wish that I could be in that state of anticipation, waiting for a favorite writer to send another book out, so that I could love Grace Paley all over again.
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