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[Cleaver] Sunday Afternoon Rocking
by List user
From: Jan, unicorn(a)sun-spot.com
The Readers' Legacy (from the "Sunday Afternoon Rocking" series)
"Copper-Toed Boots!", she exclaimed, "See if they have that one! And Little
Women! And The Boxcar Children…that one too!" Later her answer was, "A
Tree Grows in Brooklyn…see if they have that!" The titles had come in
response to my own asking, "What should I check out this week? What did
you read when you were my age?" And so it was, that in my season, I too
enjoyed Copper-Toed Boots, The Boxcar Children, Little Women, A Tree Grows
in Brooklyn, and any other myriad number of titles remembered by my
mother. Later my mother would tell me how her own mother had read Zane
Gray novels late into the night aloud to my grandfather…and I would have to
read all of those as well.
I cannot remember a time when books were not a part of our lives. Not that
we were any well read family, or knowledgeable of the great classics, but
simply that we read. A lot. Television was not a center of entertainment
in our home, primarily because I was quite a big girl when we could first
afford one. Even then it was viewed by some sense of mistrust by my
parents, who thought it might be a "time waster" if allowed to be on very
often. Books, on the other hand, could be excused from creating
diversion, for the simple reason that my parents had known what it was to
hunger for them. There were not great numbers of books in our home, for we
could ill afford them. The titles were not of lofty academic stature, for
none of my family was particularly academically inclined. But books there
were, and very early I was introduced to the public library where hours of
enjoyment could be had for no price at all. Well I remember my first "real
book" of my very own. I had many "Little Golden" books, mostly arriving in
my hands one or two at a time at Christmas or a birthday, but a "real
book", a hard covered one, a chapter book…no. By third grade, someone had
introduced me to the Nancy Drew mysteries, and voraciously I consumed all I
could locate. Having exhausted the meager supply at the public library,
having exhausted the supply of all my more fortunate friends, and living in
an age with no school library available, I felt a little like Abraham
Lincoln…hungry for a book, willing to walk miles to get one, but no more of
that genre in sight. I waylaid my hunger, and branched out into whatever
the library had available on my level that I had not yet read. It was a
good thing I was that "hungry", for I discovered much I might not have had
my hunger been too easily satiated.
Several times a year we would make a trek to relatives in Tennessee, where
doting aunts waited anxiously to gauge the growth in size and character of
one of their only two nieces. And typically, one of the aunts had already
planned a shopping excursion. Such shopping excursions were not
extravagant by the standards many of today's children gauge, but in that
time and place they were quite a novelty and adventure for me. "And what
would you like to have this time?", she asked, eyes twinkling. She enjoyed
giving as much as anyone I ever knew. I scarcely dared to breathe as I
answered her. "A book," I said, "A REAL book, with hard covers and
chapters and everything! A Nancy Drew book, please?" Sagely, she agreed
that was a wise choice, but she refused to visit the bookstore until the
very last day of my visit, that I might not "have my nose in a book" the
entire time I was to be visiting.
I will never forget the joy and drama of the occasion of being the proud
owner of a book, a new book, a book with chapters, a book with a hard
cover. And with wonder, I literally DID bury my nose in that book all the
way home…sniffing the fresh new smell with delight, running my hands again
and again over that cover and thinking, "This is mine! This book really
belongs to me!" It was The Mystery of the Whispering Statue…and yes, I
still have it.
Later my children would ask, "What should I check out this week? What did
you read when you were my age?" And the story continued…I hope it never
has an end.
Books became a large part of my life. Somewhere along the line, I even
evolved out of "junk" and made my reading diet a more balanced one,
sprinkled with a goodly number of nonfiction and classics. I have worked in
a public library, a high school library, a junior high library, a middle
school library, and a number of elementary school libraries. In fact, I
have been a librarian for nigh on thirty years. I would be hard pressed to
say how many I have read, and I have actually written a few. And a book
never ceases to delight me. My home is filled with them, stacked with
them, literally overrun with them. Ask me if I would rather spend my "mad
money" on a shopping trip to the mall, or a trip to the bookstore, and
there is no question what the answer would be. My children had at their
fingertips virtually any classic, any poetry, a bit on virtually any topic,
and plenty of "junk" besides. They never knew a time when they were not
the owner of a "real book". It was a wonderful thing. I work in a school
library with over 14000 books…and it is a wonderful thing. Books are
everywhere, they can be picked up for pennies at a flea market, a yard
sale, a Goodwill store. And something is missing.
There are, as there have always been, those who value books, those who
cherish books. But few there are who know how it is to HUNGER for
books. There is a feast on the table. Yet less than 10% of our nation's
population take advantage of free public libraries, few children spend
their leisure time reading, adults log hundreds of hours watching a
television but are hard pressed to say when they last read a book from
cover to cover. I don't know anyone who ever walked a mile to borrow a
book, or even wanted to. I worry sometimes, with seemingly so few "reading
role models" if we might be raising a generation of children who can never
get an answer to the question, "What should I check out this week? What
did you read when you were my age?" And I worry sometimes, how often the
question is asked. What a shame to have such a feast on the table…and so
few who notice it is there.
I hope my grandchildren ask the question. I want to tell them about
Copper-Toed Boots, and The Boxcar Children, and A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn. I want to tell them about Little Women, and the Adventures of
Huckleberry Finn and The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come. And if they
would like…Nana would love to take them to a bookstore and get them a book
of their very own…a real one, with chapters, and hard covers. Nana would
love to see them hungry for a book. And Nana would love to know that when
they grow up, their children will ask the same question their great
grandmother did.
I know my audience. You read, or you would not bother to wish to receive
this column. Many of you are of a generation who well knows what it was to
"hunger" for a book, and no feast on the table. I have no grandchildren as
of yet, but many of you do. Please, if you haven't already, won't you tell
them what you read when you were their age?
Just a thought,
jan
Copyright ©2001JanPhilpot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Note: Afternoon Rocking messages are meant to be passed on, meant to be
shared...simply share though e-mail as written without alterations...and in
entirety. If planned for a publication, permission must be granted by the
author. Please forward sufficient information concerning the nature and
intent of the publication.
Thanks, jan)
Sunday Afternoon Rocking columns are distributed weekly on the list Sunday
Rocking. This is not a "reply to" list, and normally only one message per
week will come across it, that being the column. To subscribe send email to
Sundayrocking-subscribe(a)topica.com
Comments about the content of these messages can be sent to
unicorn(a)sun-spot.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
18 years, 9 months
[Cleaver] Sunday Afternoon Rocking
by List user
From: Jan unicorn(a)sun-spot.com
A Long Chain of Wonderful (from the "Sunday Afternoon Rocking" series)
If ever there was another as wonderful as she was, I am not sure who it
might have been. She had a sparkle in her eye, and a story always ready to
be told upon her tongue. She told wonderful tales, of Indian ancestors and
pioneer ancestors, of "haints" and miracles. How much was actually truth,
and how much embroidered for the sake of entertaining a youngster, I am
perpetually in search of and have never quite discovered. She knew just
when to pause for effect, just when to lower her voice to a suspenseful
whisper, just when the story was ended in such a way to leave room for a
ripe imagination to keep dwelling upon it….for a lifetime! She could
giggle like a young girl, and tease as surely as her grandchildren. She
could cock her head to one side, holding a bit of crochet her hand, eye it
appraisingly, go home and reproduce it, needles clicking as the same
pattern emerged magically in her lap. She could stir through bits of
fabric and "see" the quilt exactly as it would look before her family had
a clue what she was thinking. She could narrow her eyes, look you over,
and without a pattern, make a dress that fit exactly. She could mutter
over a dying houseplant, tuck it under her arm, and when next you saw it,
it would be green and flowering. She could coax a feathered friend to say
"pretty bird!" and a child to say "thank you" and "please". She could
make chicken and dumplins before many could warm up what came in a can, and
her "blue jelly" was a delight to the little girl who grasped a jar of it
each time she returned home from a visit. She was my "Me-Maw", my
grandmother.
If ever there has been another as wonderful as she is, I am not sure who it
could have been…unless it was Me-Maw. She is my very best friend. We
tackle remodeling together, and get way in over our heads before we think
about what we got into. We rest quietly together, and dream together. She
both exasperates and delights me with her level of energy, for I, eighteen
years her junior, sometimes have to struggle to keep up with her. She is
alternately a carpenter, a designer, an engineer, a plumber, a seamstress.
She can, without pausing for breath, rebuild a garage door, fix a leaky
faucet, hammer together a bookshelf, redecorate a room, design and make
herself draperies of any style she has glimpsed in a magazine or on
television…and more than a few sets that came from her own
imagination. Once I invited her to "tea parties" where she solemnly drank
air from a tiny cup. Now we share coffee breaks. We are dangerous in a
bookstore together, and occasionally, for the sake of both our financial
pictures, have to "swear off" and remind each other "we mustn't". We can
dream up more projects together than any army of women could accomplish in
a lifetime. We can overhear something and our eyes meet, then delighted
smiles cross our faces, for we invariably know what the other is
thinking. My children call her their "jazzy grandma", and think she can do
no wrong, and perhaps she can't…not in our eyes, anyway. She is "Mama", my
mother.
I suspect, if I had known my great grandmother a bit more in my childhood,
I would be able to say…"if ever there had been another as wonderful as she
was, I am not sure who it could have been…unless it was my Me-Maw or my
Mama". I suspect so, because I know how my Mama and my Me-Maw spoke of
her, and hearing the stories of her "water fight" with the children at the
creek, I suspect she had the same mischievous twinkle in her eye as my
Me-Maw, the same girlish giggle. Hearing of her talents, I suspect she
may well have been how it was that my Me-Maw had such an adept hand and eye
with a needle, such a wonderful sense of color, and my Mama has the
same. In fact, I suspect these traits I call so "wonderful" must have been
passed through the generations, and each young lady has thought the same of
her Mama through the ages.
I suspect each of you this day, are remembering Mama, or a
grandmother. Perhaps you are thinking of a favorite aunt or someone who in
some way "mothered" you and made you feel secure and nurtured. And that is
as it should be…as the roots are tended so flowers the garden. And so
somewhere in your life, I hope for each of you, there was a lady about whom
you can say…"If ever there has been another as wonderful as she was or is…I
am not sure who it could have been." Tell her today, if she is yet with
you…and if not, tell another that they may remember what you remember.
Just a thought,
jan
Copyright ©2001JanPhilpot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Note: Afternoon Rocking messages are meant to be passed on, meant to be
shared...simply share though e-mail as written without alterations...and in
entirety. If planned for a publication, permission must be granted by the
author. Please forward sufficient information concerning the nature and
intent of the publication.
Thanks, jan)
Sunday Afternoon Rocking columns are distributed weekly on the list Sunday
Rocking. This is not a "reply to" list, and normally only one message per
week will come across it, that being the column. To subscribe send email to
Sundayrocking-subscribe(a)topica.com
Comments about the content of these messages can be sent to
unicorn(a)sun-spot.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
18 years, 9 months
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