Finding special places

The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them. - Mark Twain 

As a young child of 7 or so, I anticipated Mondays. Summer Mondays to be exact. That was the time when mom would walk us kids up Downs Avenue to visit the Bookmobile. I’d go inside the converted bus lined with books and begin the serious business of selecting something to read over the next week. Then, book in hand, I would hurry back home to see what adventures awaited me inside the pages of my “find.” I never remember reading inside the house. It was always outside. In the yard under the maple trees, or in the shadow of the large weeping willow in my backyard. By high school we were given mandatory summer reading lists. Ten books, as I recall, with a test to be given on the first day back to school in the Fall. The thrill of reading faded quickly. College brought more years of mandatory reading. And who doesn’t feel obliged to read financial, technology and career-related titles just to “keep up” in the workplace?

Well, I am retired now and rediscovering the joys of reading just for pleasure. Good books, I like to think. Many have been titles that were “mandatory” at an earlier stage in life when reading the “Cliff Notes” seemed to be an acceptable solution. Not now. Now I am drawn to the language and style of the author as much as the plot. And, I am recapturing those “special places” to read. One of my favorites, a tree stump overlooking a creek by the side of my yard in Costa Rica. With birds and lizards as my companions I can escape again into the magical world of reading.