Phil and John discuss Cleary’s life and legacy.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

The three of us, Mother, Dad, and I, stood on the sidewalk outside the Greyhound bus station in Portland, Oregon, searching for words we could not speak.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

Mother and I stand on the weathered and warped back steps looking up at my father, who sits, tall and handsome in work clothes, astride a chestnut horse.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy with Marina McCoy

It’s the surprisingly in-depth discussion of 2010’s omnibus film Ramona and Beezus that you didn’t know you needed.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

Ramona Quimby was nine years old. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and no cavities. She had a mother, a father, a big sister named Beatrice who was called Beezus by the family, and—this was the exciting part—a baby sister named Roberta after her father, Robert Quimby.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

This afternoon, as Mom was leaving for work at the hospital, she said for the millionth time, “Leigh, please clean up your room. There is no excuse for such a mess. And don’t forget the junk under your bed.”

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

After her first day in the third grade, Maggie Schultz jumped off the school bus when it stopped at her corner. “Bye, Jo Ann,” she called to the girl who was her best friend, sometimes.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

“Guess what?” Ramona Quimby asked one Friday evening when her Aunt Beatrice dropped by to show off her new ski clothes and stay for supper. Ramona’s mother, father, and big sister Beezus, whose real name was Beatrice, paid no attention and went on eating. Picky-picky, the cat, meowed through the basement door, asking to share the meal.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

Dear Mr. Henshaw,

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy

Night winds, moaning around corners and whistling through cracks, dashed snow against the windows of the Mountain View Inn. Inside, a fire cracked in the stone fireplace.

Phil Gonzales and John McCoy