Meredith’s Musings

FOR THE LOVE OF BOOKS

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

As a young girl, I inhaled books. I loved all types as a child, and the pictures prove it as I was often found curled in a corner, my face hidden behind a compelling cover. As a teenager, I remember reading The Babysitter’s Club and the Nancy Drew series, followed soon by Sweet Valley High, and later Sweet Valley University. Mom would comment on the stacks of books I had in various corners of the house, as I often read several at once. She would quiz me about them, convinced I couldn’t keep up with so many at once. No matter where I squatted, a book was nearby in which to escape. In those stories I first learned the pain of heartbreak, for I hadn’t experienced it myself. I learned to anticipate my first kiss, and to expect bickering between friends, how to be the bigger person, and when to admit I was wrong. Books taught me how to exist in my world by observing characters in theirs. I have a lifelong love affair with books, an appreciation for authors who can create fictional worlds, and a respect for the written word.
Now I have home shelves littered with books in a semi-organized fashion. I try not to hold onto all of them, as I would have room for nothing else if I kept them all. I frequently drop off boxes with the Monroe Symphony Orchestra, as I know they will find new loving homes with book lovers like myself. The stacks in my office greet my students when they visit. Long conversations often end with me giving one of my beloved books to someone who needs to read it. Reading is a passion I adore fostering in others. As an English teacher, it’s my duty. As a devoted reader, it’s my responsibility. I’m intrigued by writers who see the world so differently than I do, and encouraged by those with whom I share a vision.
Many people dream of a cross country trip, perhaps touring the state parks, soaking up nature. I’ve always longed to visit college campuses, particularly the old libraries, steeped in tradition and learning, and an observance of rules. I like structure, and I am comforted by knowing what to do and what is expected. Books provide structure, a leisure activity never thought to be a lazy endeavor. The local librarians know me by name, often having the reserved book waiting when they see me pull up. My library card is one of my most treasured possessions. I often wonder while perusing the pages who held the book before me, if that is some woman’s wine stain in the corner, or if she laughed at that line too.
When my daughter was born, it was imperative that she be consistently exposed to books. I couldn’t force her to love them, but I could make sure she had every opportunity to develop an appreciation. My husband installed floating white bookshelves in her room, my favorites prominently displayed, with age-appropriate material rotating in and out. We have overflow shelves in another room, as a baby book was a convenient shower gift. At first, we only dared let her hold board books, as I couldn’t fathom pages being torn by a baby unable to understand their value. Gradually I let her turn pages, and interrupt the story. She pointed to animals she recognized and laughed when I smiled in response. Reading became our time before bed to perform a wholesome activity, one involving all the people in her little nucleus. She laughed and clearly revelled in the ritual. I posted frequent videos on Facebook of my reading to her, gritting my teeth at the sound of my scratchy, country twang, yet invigorated by her coos in response. She loves story time, and it positively thrills my soul.
In one of our favorite videos, she wore a light pink hat with a navy bow, clearly too big for her little head. For the entire four minutes of reading, she keeps reaching her chubby little hand to adjust the hat, pulling it further down her face, obscuring her vision. I could barely get through the story, my husband and I chuckling incessantly. I love our time cuddled up on the bed, daughter sitting astride my hausband’s knee, trying our best to make it through each story, as books are made to be finished. Sometimes I’m so insistent on completing, that I forget to pause and let her soak in the experience. I’m working on this.
I get it honest. Mom and I share a passion for reading, as she prefers being curled up in her chair with the latest thriller to pretty much any other activity. Our conversations often involve the plot to her current book. Our tastes in books are much different, but the love for reading is the same. I’m hoping my girls and I share a passion as well. If it’s cooking, that’s wonderful. If it’s cheering for the US gymnastics team in the summer Olympics, that’s all well and good. If it’s an affinity for swimming, and basically any water-related sport, that will make me happy too. But if it’s books, if they adore reading, well I’ll simply be tickled pink.