Besides our family, one of the things I’m thankful for is books. I’ve enjoyed reading since I met Dick and Jane in my first-grade primer. Mysteries became my favorite genre when the travelling library brought the Hardy Boys series to my country grade school but my tastes are eclectic.
Sometimes I gain unexpected knowledge from a novel such as learning about elephants when our book club recently read “Leaving Time” by Jodi Picoult. One of the story’s main characters, Alice Metcalf, a researcher, spends a lot of her time observing the animals and writing down what she sees.
Books transport me from my mundane life to a few hours of living as someone exciting. While I was a teenager recovering from tuberculosis in the sanitarium, I read about “Doc” Holliday, the gunfighter friend of lawman Wyatt Earp. The nonfiction satisfied two of my interests–the dentist resided in the Old West and suffered from consumption.
When I became a mother, I knew little about raising kids. My bible was “The Common Book of Child Care” by Dr. Benjamin Spock.
I’m a do-it-yourselfer. Some people take a class to learn a new skill; I always look for a how-to-book. For example, while our youngsters were growing up, I did a lot of sewing. When our davenport and chair needed reupholstering, I found a booklet in the yard goods store that gave step-by-step instructions to recover the furniture.
Buying an annual Rockford Library card enables me to borrow books about whatever subject catches my interest. It costs the same as the average taxpayer residing in the district pays whether that person uses the library or not.
When I decided to write a book, my memoir about our seven-year courtship in the 1950s, “The View from a Midwest Ferris Wheel,” I read several examples by other authors.
Are you a reader?