Learn how to Read….Again
If everyone will just give me an honest five minutes I’m
sure we can get somewhere. If you can sound out these words going from left to
right, forming sentences and then on to paragraphs without having to take Tylenol
for a headache or Midol for cramps than I assume when you were 5, 6, 7 or 12
you learned to read. I’m also going to make a powerful assumption that there
was something tangible in your hand when you first started this journey. You
read words like cat and dog. You put sentences together like “Mat sat” and you
got excited when you could finally sit down and read “Hop on Pop”.
The world opened up to you.
You started recognizing that words are everywhere…on that
STOP sign you just passed, on that restaurant sign, on those rocks (don’t read
that honey). You started asking questions: What does that say Mom? What does
that say mom? What does that say mom? What does that say mom? What a glorious
time.
Then life happened. Not just life filled with growth and
adult responsibilities but life filled with a changing world. A world of access
to everything and a computer with access to everything in everyone’s back
pocket. A life of speed (not the drug but actual velocity) and instant
gratification. Life in 2020.
That being said, I ask you, honestly, if you have read a
hold in your hands, flip the paper pages book complete with that “old book
smell” within the last six months? If the answer is “no”, I invite you to learn
something new: learn to read again.
― Groucho Marx,
The friends I made in my childhood I still retain. Occasionally,
especially now having children of my own, I visit them. I have met and
adventured with countless decent, brave and remarkable people over the years. I
have cried with them and shared their victories. And always in times of
loneliness, I have had a few really
bosom friends that I can find companionship amongst. I can always feel home
when I pick up Conan Doyle or Austen. There have been times when I read nothing
else but the Bible and Charles Dickens. After a bit of that my husband and I
can’t communicate anymore because my vocabulary becomes too dated. When I read
“Old Yeller” to my kids, I laid down my head along with my seven year old and
we had a solemn cry. My children and I have shared adventures of great
magnitude in front of our fire through the winter months and have played
Captain Long John Silver and Jim Hawkins until I was concerned that the neighbors
would get to wondering if they heard “Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum” anymore.
.
I don’t doubt that reading on a device has immense
conveniences but I do think that something, perhaps remote, is lost when
you give up the paper book for a reasonable facsimile. This is nothing compared to the distressing reality that masses of people aren't reading anymore. At all! They aren't reading books at all! I have to object. We may all be different and have
vastly varying strengths and opinions and tastes but we are all the same in
many ways. There are things that may not be necessary but are valuable. They
may not be missed when they are gone but they would enhance if present.
― Astrid Lindgren
I pose one question, if it was important when we were children, should it be unimportant now?
Picking out favorites from my favorites is just too hard and some might think me cliché in my picks (especially if they haven’t read them because then they just wouldn't understand) so
I jot down a quick few to spark interest and “implore you to exert yourself” as
the birds did to Peter Rabbit when he was hopelessly caught.
Persuasion By Jane Austen
Dracula By Bram Stoker
Princess Bride
All Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes
Gaining Favor with God and Man
Switch on Your Brain By Caroline Leaf
Mere Christianity By C.S. Lewis (and frankly you could read
his Chronicles of Narnia anytime in life. I just read them all last year....again)
Around the World in eighty Days By Jules Verne
Oh I have to stop!
If you have children please read “Honey for a Child’s Heart”. Just do it.
I refrain from harping anymore. You know how I feel and even
if you have entirely giving up the childhood feeling that great fiction gives,
I haven’t. I have a book waiting for me upstairs. A solid, Dickens that I’m 400
pages into so I am beginning to know the people within on a first name
basis. Just thinking about spending a quarter of an hour in their company
whilst my raucous household sleeps makes me a tad giddy. If you don’t get it
that’s okay, I’m sure I wouldn’t get lots of things about you. But we can still get along.