I was asked to think about my reading journey for a group that I am a part of that wants to increase literacy. I realized I have a long one, not because of age per se, but because books have always been part of the fabric of my life.
It was my father who read to me at bedtime. We had a thick anthology of nursery rhymes and fairy tales. We also had little Golden Books. I think my favorite story for him to read was Cinderella, it was beautifully illustrated. Hans Christian Anderson’s The Red Shoes made me cry and, honestly, a little afraid of dancing.
It was my mother who brought me to our town’s public library and procured my first library card. It was a small white rectangle, my name neatly typed on its front. Imagine my delight when I learned I could take out three- no- four-no- sometimes even five books at the same time! Some of my first stacks included The Cat in the Hat and Are You My Mother? As I progressed in my ability, I moved onto Carolyn Heywood’s books about Betsy, Beezus, Ramona and Henry. While I occasionally read a stand alone story, I drifted toward series and delved into Maud Hart Lovelace’s tales about Betsy, Tacy and Tib and solving mysteries with Encyclopedia Brown. I explored the land of Oz and discovered The Great Brain books by John D. Fitzgerald. We were never rushed when we went to the library, we lingered, for my mother had a voracious appetite for books as well. When we relocated from Connecticut to Florida, one of the first places we located was our public library. It was air conditioned and there was a healthy supply of new books to discover. It was there that I ventured into the adult section and checked out Gone With the Wind for the first time.
Reading was a constant - a book was always with us. Except at breakfast. In desperation, I read the cereal box, learning how much niacin was included and how many proofs of purchase I needed to send away for a free toy. My mother found a second hand bookstore in St. Petersburg and we would spend some quality time there, too. We could turn in books and use the credit earned for new ones. That was cool. I traded a lot of comic books there. I loved the adventures of Archie, Betty and Veronica.
In my teen years, my sister and I could often be found at the B. Dalton bookstore at Tyrone Square Mall. At that point, I saved my money to buy certain books rather than check them out of the library. Books like SE Hinton’s The Outsiders and Judy Blume’s Forever. Authors like Paul Zindel and Paula Danziger commanded my money and my attention. My books were read and re-read, with worn, wrinkled pulled back covers and dog-eared pages. Books like Go Ask Alice and The Late Great Me freaked me out enough about substance abuse that I walked the straight and narrow line throughout high school. It was in high school that I got lost in The Thornbirds and Mary Stewart’s Merlin Trilogy. I was also blessed with the ability to take elective English classes (in addition to my required ones) my junior and senior years in high school, so I was exposed to Brit Lit, Contemporary Lit and Shakespeare (a whole semester- not just one play). When I wasn’t reading, I was writing, so to have such a base of different styles to examine and learn from was integral to my development as both a reader and a writer.
I also loved reading plays. Our public library had thick books with the scripts from the best of Broadway for specific years. So, while I saw little theater in those years, I read lots of it and learned to appreciate the art of writing for the stage. It led me to reading biographies about Alan Jay Lerner and Rex Harrison. I read Moliere, Wilde, Henrik Ibsen, Lillian Hellman. I preferred comedy over drama, I appreciated plays on words and verbal banter. While in college, my favorite classes were the ones that I got to either read interesting novels (like my American Women Writers class) or hone my creative writing skills. My freshman year I got a job working in the college library. I really enjoyed interacting with and helping the patrons, and I had the best boss - Trudy. After working there through my sophomore year, Trudy asked me to consider staying on and working there as a summer job. I had to take a second job to cover my living expenses, but it was worth it. Trudy sometimes let me leave the circulation desk and taught me how to shelve books. I learned about Melvin Dewey that summer and I got to explore the stacks. That was the summer I read One Hundred Years of Solitude.
During my twenties I lived in New York and San Francisco -- bookstores were at my beck and call and I spent many a weekend afternoon curled up with a good read. It was also during that time that I read a nonfiction book that profoundly affected me - Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman. My mom had been swept into the later stages of early onset Alzheimer’s. She no longer knew who I was. I was in my mid-twenties and wasn’t done needing her. My family was 3,000 miles away. The book was a life preserver tossed to me by my sister.
When I was pregnant with my first-born, What to Expect While You're Expecting was a constant companion. While my son was in his first year, I read more magazines than books - my attention was constantly diverted by his wants and needs. Around his first birthday, I started to feel the yearn to read something more, something that wasn’t an article. I was in a book drought. I didn’t know where to begin. My mother-in-law came to my rescue by giving me a Mary Higgins Clark book. Mysteries and psychological thrillers were not always on my radar, but some of her titles sucked me in and kept me up late, reading into the night.
It turned out that other moms of young kids wanted and needed to read - and so a book club was formed with fellow MOMS Club members and my sister who, by now, had moved out to the west coast. Honestly, I think some people came more for the conversations than the books, but I definitely read varied and interesting choices during that time. When I was pregnant with my second son, my sister introduced me to the Harry Potter series. I quickly read the first four stories and was forced to wait for the rest of the series like everyone else. As a child, I read and reread books multiple times, As an adult, I rarely do, but I have revisited Harry Potter. I think I enjoy reading it so much because it is written so well - the layers, the characters, the dilemmas.
While my older son was in his second grade year, I walked into his school library for the first time. My first day volunteering, I felt like I had come “home.” I volunteered for several years assisting Mrs. Hucker, the librarian, with managing the volunteers, checking books in and out, barcoding textbooks and shelving books. At the same time, I read my children’s library books with them as they were navigating their own early reading journeys. I met Jack and Annie from Magic Tree House, laughed at Dav Pilkey’s Dumb Bunnies, attended Dan Gutman’s Weird School, and met Stink and Percy Jackson. I observed the students’ trends and patterns of both library behaviors and selections. I learned picture books are fascinating and not just for early learners.
At one point, at the encouragement of our school librarian, I tested and interviewed with the school district to be added to their elementary library eligibility list. When our librarian moved onto a middle school position, I took over hers. I am now in my eighth year of sharing stories with students, encouraging their development as readers. I hope I inspire them sometimes. I know they inspire me to find the right stories for them, to find books that make them laugh, make them question, make them want to share what they’ve taken away.
One of the thoughts I share with my students when we talk about reading is that I think reading makes you a better writer, a better speaker, a better thinker. I honestly feel that. Reading a variety of genres and titles helps us to develop as learners and as emotional learners. Life has taught me that there is always more that I don’t know than I do - that there is always something new to learn, a new path to explore. Reading is how I make that happen.
