Sparks №32: What the Library Means to You
My Inherited Love of Books
A story of Dad, books, and libraries
I don’t have many happy memories of my father. Too often, he was a difficult man to love and a man who struggled to display love. I spent most of my life trying to earn the affection he would never offer.
But, he did share one love with me — his love of books.
I have two older sisters who failed to inherit his reading gene. I’m grateful that I did, and so was he. Once I displayed an interest in reading, he heartily encouraged it.
I remember that I did not enjoy learning to read in first grade, my first time in school. Kindergarten was not required back then, and few children received formal education until first grade. I don’t recall anyone at home trying to teach me to read before I attended school. Perhaps, it would have been different if I had a mother — mine died when I was an infant — or if my father had taken more interest in his children.
Second grade is when I got the reading bug, and I remember it well. In first grade, we read boring books about Dick and Jane and their dog Spot. To me, they were dull children. No wonder I was bored!
Second-graders were allowed into the magical world of the library. And that’s where I discovered Dr. Seuss and The Cat in The Hat, Green Eggs and Ham, and a dozen other entertaining books. I was entranced.
We were only allowed to withdraw two books a week, and I always walked away with my limit.
Once my father noticed I was reading, he started buying me books for birthday and Christmas gifts. When I was older, I would give him a list of books I wanted, and he always obliged. My sisters complained that all those books meant that I received more presents than they did. My father said, Start reading, and you can have just as many gifts. They didn’t.
My favorites were the Nancy Drew mystery books. I read every single one.
I dreaded summer because the school library was closed, and our tiny rural town didn’t have a public library. So, my father allowed me to buy as many books as I wanted from the Weekly Reader Summer Catalog. I was the only child in my school who ordered books for the summer. When the books arrived, the principal called my father, then found me in the lunchroom to let me know that I had a case of books and that my father was on his way to retrieve them. Only then did I look forward to summer vacation!
I continued to read voraciously through school and had a dream part-time job working at my college’s library, although I never considered being a librarian as a career. My reading continued, on and off, over the years.
As an adult, I love libraries and attend many programs they offer, but I’m a book-buyer more than a book-borrower. Probably, because I lived in the country for so long, where running to the library wasn’t an easy task. Or, because I don’t like time limits on my reading material and don’t want to worry about damaging a book. But mostly, because I want to support authors.
For two weeks, I’ve been culling my books. Many I bought at sales; some were given to me. While busy rearing grandchildren, most of my reading was at their level, out loud, while sitting on the edges of beds. Each night, I’d fall onto my mattress, too exhausted to read what I liked.
Later, I discovered Medium. For three years, most of my reading was done here. Last year I vowed to return to the books I’d neglected for so long. That’s when I realized many of the more than three dozen books in my home didn’t interest me. My tastes have changed. I no longer read mysteries and thrillers, and my love for British authors has grown. Recently I discovered the British bookseller Blackwell’s and found many books there that I want to read. That gave me the encouragement I needed to tackle my bookshelves.
One by one, I decided which book to keep and which to donate. It wasn’t easy. I agonized over a few but knowing my years ahead are fewer than my years behind, I’m determined to only read what truly interests me. I don’t have time for the maybes.
I took three huge bags of books to the Friends of the Library, an organization that collects books all year and has two annual sales to raise money to buy new books for our county’s library system. I donated my books right before the cut-off when the volunteers start preparing for the spring sale. I know in a couple of weeks, my books will find new homes where someone will truly want to read them.
Now, the books on our living room and bedroom shelves beckon me. I hope I’ll live to read each one and a few more ’cause Blackwell’s tempts me, too!
My father’s been gone from this earth for years, and I didn’t cry when he left. But, as I was going through my books, I thought of him and whispered a thank you for giving me his reading gene.
© Dennett 2022
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