On Books and Growing Up

I grew up reading books. For Christmas one year, I asked for "a book with lots of pages." I was thinking dictionary-sized, but I was too young to know what a dictionary was. So my mom got me a children's books about a mouse that discovers the Bible. Not what I had in mind, but I liked it anyway.

Ironically, I hated learning to read. The books were hard to read and were boring when you could understand what the words said. The only thing that kept me going (besides the fact that I didn't have much choice) was my dad telling me, "Readers are leaders and leaders are readers." I wanted to be in charge of something when I was "all grown-up"- I didn't care what- but that meant I had to read.

In elementary school, I always had a book with me. I read when I finished my work, I read during recess, and I probably got in trouble for reading during class. Whenever my family went on long road trips (which was often), my mom would buy us a new book or two to keep us occupied in the down-time. The worst punishment in my family was "going to bed without a story." My mom would read aloud to us every night until I was eleven or so. Then, I would read books, then dress up and act out the parts of the female main character. My mom spent countless hours sewing dresses, bonnets, capes, and skirts for me. (Then I discovered thrift stores and my costume hunting took place there, instead. But I still haven't outgrown that urge to dress up in long skirts like the heroines of old). And it all stemmed from books. Even now, my room is full of not only school books, but also children's books, young adult books, and novels.

For my first two years of high school, I adored books. I always had one with me. I had my preferences, but I read almost anything. Then I discovered people. I realized that although books were wonderful, people were like living books to me. The "best friend" relationships in books could happen in real life. There were people who had lived exciting things and could tell me about with a twinkle of the eye and the expressive tone that I missed in reading. For that reason (and due to too much homework), I stopped reading for fun during my junior year of high school. I read philosophy homework, economics textbooks, and political articles for debate, instead. I still read the occassional fun book (and books for English classes), but the novels I usually carried to class to read during passing periods were gone. They were replaced by wonderful conversations and genuine smiles. But I still missed those books. Especially the feel of a book in my hands.

College brought back the wonder of books to me, combined with the joy of being with people. In college, I read stories again, instead of textbooks. I read fiction again for the first time in a long time. There were characters to relate to (and analyze, now that I was older). But the best part was that it was not just me reading the book. In college, I read it with people by my side, reading the same book, and enjoying it with me, and discussing it to no end. We bonded over books. We stayed up to all hours reading. We had "study parties" during which we read for hours straight. That feeling brought together my early years of loving books and my teenage years of loving people. I cannot think of a better way to end my childhood.