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Welcome to the club ...

My daughter sat at her desk Sunday evening working on what I assumed was another Father's Day gift. Then she snuck up behind me, leaned in and whispered, "How do you spell 'club'?"

I told her how, then she walked to her chair muttering to herself, "C-L-U-B. C-L-U-B. C-L-U-B." She transferred the letters onto a sheet of paper, then showed me what she'd been working on.

It was not a Father's Day gift as I expected; it was a sign sporting the words, "Book Club."

She asked for Scotch tape, then disappeared around the corner to secure it on her bedroom door.

Then she handed me a sticky note and asked me to write "Book Club" and "Cathy" (my first name) on it. So I did.

"Now, you're enrolled in the book club," she said. Meetings would be in her room, with the time to be determined.

That she had the idea to create a book club makes me smile. Neither my husband nor I belong to a book club, or any club for that …

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