The Gift of Reading

“If I couldn’t use food or love to define contentment, I would choose reading” Mary Roach

_____

Growing up I always hated going to the library.  First of all, I didn’t like to read a whole lot.  I left that up to my sister who enjoyed reading. I’d rather be outside playing – forget all that cerebral stuff. How could reading a book compare to jumping rope or playing handball. Basically, I think more than anything, I enjoyed competition. My mother would make my sister and me go to the library every two weeks.  We were to take that long walk up to the library on Eastern Parkway and Schenectady Ave in Brooklyn which was about nine blocks from our house.  This year the library celebrates its 104 year having been constructed in 1914. We were instructed to take out at least two books for our “reading pleasure”.  PLEASURE??- my idea of pleasure in no way included reading books!!!! The only cool part about going to the library for me was that I got to have a library card. It made me feel kind of grown up. I hated the “card catalog” which always threw me off. That whole system I found very intimidating. Some books were categorized alphabetically and some by numbers, depending on the subject matter – fiction, non-fiction, history, periodicals – YIKES – much too many things to consider when selecting books. I even heard that there were actual classes on the “Dewey decimal system” – what????? (I couldn’t figure out just who that “Dewey” person was – but at least now-a-days, I can (according to my children), google him!!!!  So pretty much I stuck to one section and just selected my books from there. My sister, however, seemed to love the whole process. It wasn’t until much later that I began to like the library. Sometimes my sister would take me to the “big library” in Manhattan (talk about intimidating).  At least there she showed me how I could listen to recordings of Shakespeare’s plays. I really enjoyed that. I began to appreciate the library over time and, consequently, when I had children, I would take them to the library all the time. We also frequented book stores. I tried as best I could to get them to love reading. I enjoy reading to children and every opportunity I get, even now, I do just that. During a span of about 10-15 years I became a ferocious reader. I would read just about anything. I decided that my favorite books are memoirs. I do enjoy reading about other people’s lives and their perspective on things. Next to that I always enjoy fiction. What’s strange is that I really like poetry and have written a few poems over the years, but generally, the “renowned” poets I never really understand. My poetry is upfront – never convoluted. I never write something you have to figure out. I just say how I feel – no guessing. I guess I’ll never be in the history books for writing great poetry.

 Don’t know if I ever mentioned it here, but my dad, although his formal education was on an elementary level, was an avid reader. He read everything! He would buy the newspaper everyday and read it just about cover to cover. He loved current and historical events. He had a subscription to “life” and “look” magazines. On most occasions when he came to Maryland to visit with the children and me, we would undoubtedly wind up at the bookstore sometime during his visit. He would get so much enjoyment out of looking at all the books, and listening to music. One particular time we found out that Maya Angelou was going to be at the “Borders” book store near where I live. My father was so excited about going to see her. He had a great respect for her as I also did – her books, her influence, her notoriety. She was regal (a true stateswoman) and yet her speaking voice so smooth, so melodic – calming.  Her gentle welcoming spirit could draw anyone to her. She almost demanded your attention when she spoke. It was as if she were singing instead of talking. Her ability to connect with all kinds of people made her quite endearing. The night came and after dinner was completed, the children, daddy and I, set out to hopefully see Maya Angelou. (Incidentally, Maya Angelou is my middle child’s namesake). Upon arriving at the bookstore, we were greeted by mobs of people waiting to see her. I had decided that there was no way we could get to actually meet her. True to his nature, my dad who was about 87 at the time and approximately 5’4″ in statue, found a way to get close enough to the front of the line so he could get that chance to meet her. (Just let me interject something here….my dad probably charmed some lady into letting him in front so he could have the chance to see her. That would not surprise me in the least – my mother used to call him the “ladies’ man”. Either that or someone just felt sorry for him and let him jump the line). Either way, I had resigned myself to the fact that we wouldn’t be able to see her, so I started perusing the store in my usual fashion. Sometime later, my dad resurfaced and appeared before me just beaming and announced that he got to see her and he shook her hand. Then he announced so proudly “She likes me!!!” for the life of me, I don’t know how he came up with that deduction – but he was visibly DELIGHTED!!! The children marveled at how their granddaddy had defied the odds and got to meet Maya Angelou. Of course, he talked about that for weeks afterwards, always adding “she likes me!”.

That was a once in a lifetime experience for my dad and it all started with books and reading. With the onslaught of audio books these days, regular books are being pushed aside more and more but honestly I love the feel of a real book – one that I can hold in my hand that I can cuddle up under the covers with on a gloomy day – “oh the places I can go” all with the turn of a page and it all started so long ago at the library…..Thank you mom!!

”When all else fails, go to the library”…….Stephen King