As a shy and reticent child I found sanctuary in my school's library. In my minds eye I can picture every bit of that beloved space; I can walk those stacks of books and nearly feel the spines of the shelved books on my fingertips. In my earliest elementary years, I read every book the library had that was authored by Edward Dolch. I loved all books to do with animals - nonfiction about animals, or fiction centered around animals or involving anthropomorphized animals. Those Dolch books fit the bill, as did Beverly Cleary's Rigsby and Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, and, also, guidebooks on how to care for dogs. These books would make their way out onto the playground during recess where, quite frequently, I would find solace within their pages.
I can also vividly recall our county library's bookmobile that would park before our school's doors once a week. I found a vehicle crammed full of books to be novel and thrilling. The throaty engine of the idling vehicle would hum as I browsed the shelves.
While at university, roaming the stacks of the massive library with its rare book collection and seemingly endless rows of academic journals containing research on every imaginable subject convinced me that I had been handed the keys to the universe.
As a stay-at-home mom I trekked to the library with my kids in tow. Together, we attended programs in which we sang songs, did silly dances and created masterpieces together. Together, we examined the picture books with their glossy pages of fine art and endearing stories and found amazing read-alouds. The day that they got their very own library cards I felt as though I had handed over to them those keys to the universe.
I am no longer a shy child but am a woman who is comfortable and confident in her own skin and world. And, I no longer have children accompanying me to the library. I am making that journey on my own, maybe for a bit of comfort during this transitional phase but more because there is so much more of the universe left to explore.
Weekly, I wander through the stacks of my library. Sometimes, I go in with purpose, to look for a specific book or author (usually something recommended by my bookworm, Maceo). Other times, I have no specific intent... just roam. I roam the nonfiction - biography, history, philosophy, business and careers, books and literature, science and nature, travel, sports and recreation, money, cooking, gardening, spirituality and true crime. I roam the fiction- historical, mystery, literary, and the classics. I roam the audiobooks - fiction and nonfiction, including lectures. I look for intriguing titles or appealing cover colors and designs or subjects that sound interesting and I add those books to my stack.
I nearly always check out more books than is practical but I steadily work my way through them, always reading more than one book at a time. Presently, I am actively reading...
-Memory's Last Breath: Field Notes on My Dementia by Gerda Saunders: a stunningly beautiful and revealing memoir of a 'fiercely intellectual person living with the knowledge that her brain is betraying her.'
-Curious: The Desire to Know and Why Your Future Depends On It by Ian Leslie: "A beautiful and important exploration of the need to nurture, develop, and explore our curiosity even when we've long left our childhood behind. Ian Leslie reminds us of those essential life lessons that we tend to forget in our quest to be busy and productive: that sometimes, it's OK to waste time; and often, the most productive mind ends up being the mind most open to indulging its most childish impulses," said Maria Konnikova, and I agree!
-The Society of Timid Souls, or How to Be Brave by Polly Morland: a philosophical attempt to define bravery and courage and to determine the timid can, in fact, learn to be brave. (https://www.theguardian.com/books/2013/may/19/timid-souls-polly-morland-review)
-Love From Boy: Roald Dahl's Letters to His Mother by Donald Sturrock: a delightful book allowing me to have a glimpse into the life experiences and personal perspective of beloved author Roald Dahl. Each letter beginning with 'Dear Mama' conveys the sense that Dahl and his mother had an endearing and enduring relationship.
So, I explore the universe as it exists in the minds and hearts of those in these books and, in the process, I am certain that I explore a piece of myself as well.
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