Books:
Another World, Another Reality
I love to read. Books hold an extraordinary fascination for
me. I believe that one significant
reason for this passion is that my father was an avid reader. Whether it was a book, magazine, newspaper,
letters, or studying the Bible, reading was one of his preferred daily
activities. I wanted to be like Dad.
As a child, I recall
that one of the best days of the week was Sunday. Dad always bought The Daily News on our way home from church. That day the newspaper was thick with
stories, sales ads, and a colorful comics section which was my favorite. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t read all the
words, I was still able to follow the story through the sequenced
drawings. My favorite was Dondi, the orphan, followed by Dick Tracy and Beetle Bailey. More
important, I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the Sunday paper alongside Dad.
In
kindergarten I remember my teacher reading stories and Mother Goose Rhymes.
After she read aloud, we had permission to visit the special reading corner and
select any book we wanted, make ourselves comfortable and enjoy it. Back then, kindergarten was fun. I can’t pinpoint the exact age I discovered fairy tales, but I do recall the fever hit me hard. My favorites were the Hans
Christian Anderson (The Princess and the
Pea, The Emperor’s New Clothes, Thumbelina, The Match Girl, and others),
and the Brothers Grimm tales (Hansel and
Gretel, Snow White, Rumpelstiltskin, and more). When I read those books, I
was in the story. I was the princess in a tower waiting to be rescued or the
princess who outsmarted the evil dwarf, and of course, I was the one who lived
happily ever after. Those stories and
others provided an escape into a different world that offered a possibility to
be happy in spite of problems and evil people.
As
I got older, I kept progressing to other types of books that held my
interest. One book I remember well is Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. I was
present in the lives of the four March sisters and understood their likes and
dislikes. I was inspired by how they
faced the difficulties of life with steadfastness and uniqueness of characters.
Reading was not only a pleasure activity, it was also a learning tool. In the same vein, one of the sweetest stories
I have ever read is The Secret Garden by
Frances Hodgson Burnett. The story still
fascinates me today, to the point that I have a copy of the book in my personal
library. I suppose the theme of
overcoming adverse circumstances through true friendship and kindness is what
appeals to me. An abandoned garden comes
to life under the care of the main character, Mary (who is only 10 years old
when the story begins), and her new found cousin, Colin. The secret garden
becomes a catalyst for the healing of the emotional wounds that both children have
been carrying for some time. The same
way the garden blossoms, so do their lives and the lives of the adults around
them.
I
could go on and on mentioning all the fabulous books I have had the privilege
of reading and how my taste for them has evolved over the years through natural
curiosity, maturation and formal education.
An example of this is that due to my university education in Puerto Rico,
I was introduced to an untold number of novels, biographies and poetry written
by renowned Caribbean, Latin American and European Spanish language authors. Reading in Spanish continued to feed my soul
along with the added bonuses of strengthening my identity as a Latina, enriching
my vocabulary, and improving my writing. However, most important, these experiences
confirmed that reading has always been and will be a source of pleasure in my
life.
Have
you read a good book lately? Have you
allowed yourself to get lost in a book?
Have the words on a page caused you to laugh, cry, sigh, hold your breath,
or want to scream as you stumble down a muddy, dark road with the main
character? Every once in a while we need
to go on an adventure that only requires we turn pages and allow ourselves to
be transported into a different world, even if only for an hour or so. It is a most exhilarating and renewing
experience that does not have to cost much.
Try it.
The following poem is about the importance of reading in my life.
Reading
The power of reading is real,
I have experienced it many times.
When I needed to escape my reality,
I read books that transported me
to that happy-ever-after land
where my spirit was soothed.
When I needed to learn and grow,
I read books that allowed me to discover
the immense world around me,
and even the universe beyond,
and my spirit was nourished.
When I desperately needed to know
about life after death and
how to survive the grief of loss,
I read books that opened my eyes
to a mysterious, eternal world
that should not be feared,
and my spirit was healed.
When I needed to laugh or cry,
I read books that asked no questions,
made no judgments,
and graciously accepted my laughter,
or the tears that stained its pages,
and my spirit was comforted.
When I needed to make a new life for myself,
I read books that gently and profoundly prodded,
books that awakened a hidden self,
books that fed my hunger for knowing,
books that satisfied my craving for change,
and my spirit evolved.
During all those times of need,
be it known that I was blessed,
blessed to have people around me,
people who cared,
people who loved,
people who inspired and motivated.
But I also believe I was blessed to have books.
Thus, I need you to know again and again,
the power of reading is real,
I have experienced it many times.
