My Own Private Book Club

I love books they where my escape as a child. Though I had dyslexia, it was not a form that affected my reading; it was my math skills that were impaired. My mother influenced my love for reading you never saw her without some book or word puzzle, she would sit with me on the couch reading to me her favorite poems “The Raven,” “The Owl and The Pussycat,” “If” and “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer. Those are indented into my memory, on Christmas every year she would reading to me Jus’ Fore Christmas a ritual I did with my son. My mother never discouraged me from reading anything she encouraged my taste, this lead to my ability to read and comprehend on a level far above most in my class. In her cedar chest I still have the 6th grade book report I did on Amityville Horror, this story made me unable to sleep in a bed for most of my childhood and teenage years. I would read Encyclopedia Brown books then set up shop outside my house charging friends to solve mysteries for them. Judy Blume was my soul mate, S.E. Hinton my hero, Socrates my guide, Byron and Shelley my lovers, books where my friends; they took me on journeys to place I could see vividly. When I told my mom I was running away she helped me pack, in my suitcase I took all my books, a radio, blanket and a lunch she packed for me. I ran as far as the front yard to my favorite spot laid out my blanket and read until dusk. Mom opened the door for me with welcoming arms as we placed the book back on my shelf. I would visit the library for hours on end and to this day I can not go into a book store without being there for hours. My son has inherited this trait, he was a great reader as a child, know not so much, but that will change as he gets older. One teacher I had in the 7th grade influenced my love for the classic she knew I could read and comprehend on a higher level than my grade so she introduced me to J.D. Salinger, William Goldman, I am Cheese, Dune, Brave New World, and Animal Farm for this I am grateful. When I was 10 I was going to write my life story somewhere I still have the first page, I was going to write the next American novel a dream I left behind as I grew up and became more cynical. Books never abandoned me, they comforted me in my time of need, they shaped my mind to be accepting of everyone, we all are troubled, closet that rattle, we are human at the end of the day a journey well traveled is a work of art.

I am writing this ode to my love of books because I found a great place online called Book Mooch awhile back. When we decided to make half of the room my craft room I needed space so I found this place to give the gift that my books have given me. When someone request a book from your inventory you send it to them, if someone has something you would like you request it from them and they send you the book. I love recycling books to see the story that the books tell is great. Here are just some of the treasures I have received. Now go to your library read something.

Bookmooch Photos


Popular posts from this blog

E is for Echo and the Bunnymen


Dear Me: A Letter to Woodstock at 16