Books! Books! Books!
Walking down a two lane road in Disney, Oklahoma on a hot summer day, I trailed behind my two older brothers. A few moments of freedom and somewhere to go while visiting our grandmother, we looked forward to these walks to the corner store. Perusing the aisles, we take our time choosing what we want to purchase. Candy. Coca-cola. Chips.
The summer before my 6th grade year I picked up a book. Reading the book’s summary, I was immediately drawn to the story about twin teenage girls living in California. Placing my book on the counter, my brother completed the purchase and we headed back to Grandma’s house. Book in hand and hours to read, I devoured that book. Opening the book to the second page, I read the titles of the books in the series Sweet Valley High. The realization that there were more of them out in the world opened my eyes to the wonderful world of books and storytelling. I wanted to read every single book and with great satisfaction, I would check off each book as I read it. Much to my delight, my parents never limited my book buying and always encouraged my developing love for reading.
The Sweet Valley High book that I read that summer at Grandma’s!
This book series written for young teenage girls across America continues to give me warm fuzzy feelings. It makes my heart happy! Jessica, Elizabeth, and their friends invited me into another world. A world of other people’s problems, always ending with a chapter where everyone remains friends and their problems are solved. I needed and wanted the escape. I experienced a different life through fictional eyes. I fell in love when they fell in love. I hurt when they hurt. I was angry when they were angry. I was all in because I didn’t know how to read any other way.
I still use reading as a way to escape the present and live in another world - just for a few hours. Thankfully, my taste in books has matured - a little. Staying up entirely too late, I read for hours and hours with the covers pulled over my head so that the light emanating off the Kindle won’t wake Scott. I can easily read 4 to 5 simple novels a week. Every free moment. Road trips. Down time. Night time. Sitting on the couch. I love books!
Good storytellers draw me in and show me how other people live and experience the world. Lately, I have realized that good storytelling isn’t just for works of fiction. Good storytelling is found in books that inform, motivate, and inspire - nonfiction. Trying to live an informed life and understand ALL of my friends and the communities I live in, I choose books about racial reconciliation. Books that stretch what I know to new boundaries. Books that I cannot stop thinking about and recommending to others because we should ALL read about others lives and experiences. I choose stories with ethnic, cultural, socio-economic, and ability differences. I have read several books whose main character is a man or woman with high-functioning autism. Oh, what an honor it is to climb inside their experiences. Reading biographies or memoirs provides an opportunity to learn from others and give permission for their stories to impact mine. The exchanging of ideas through the written word is such an incredible gift.
Through books, I find my heart becoming more sympathetic and empathetic. Through books, I am challenged to pause before I act or speak to ensure that my actions and words are not insensitive. Through books, I experience heartache by stepping into someone else’s shoes. Through books, I find a few hours where I am not consumed with myself. My problems. My opinions. Through books, my worldview has expanded and grown.
Walking home from that little store by Grandma’s house, a whole new world opened before me as I stepped into the imaginary world of sisters, school, friends, and teenage drama. I love storytelling and the storytellers who share their gift of knowledge, perspective, and creativity with others.
