a simple storybook

My mom was best at the voices and my dad could be talked into reading two more past our official bedtime. It wasn't a chore or something we dreaded. It was a treat, the end of a good day, a little girl's delight. For each book we'd read at least a hundred times, we only wanted to hear it two hundred times more. We were eager for new books and playful illustrations. It was such a treat to go to the library or Scott's Bookstore, for one book each and a square of stickers off the roll if our behavior deemed worthy or if it just wasn't worth the fight for my mom.

My Aunt Becky gave us books for every holiday or "just because" from the day we were born. Each of we four kids were treated equally and never forgotten in her book giving world. In her sweet, slanted and perfect cursive handwriting she always wrote us a note in the front of each book signed with the date, and with love, from Aunt Becky & Uncle Who. They were gifts we expected, but looked forward to every single time. My mom put those books away soon enough then pulled them out to fill the "children's section" shelves of our restored storehouse library on our farm, and so many of those books came from her. Most were our favorites and they'll be saved, relished and passed down forever.

My parent's and Lela {our surrogate grandmother who helped raise us} made books important and part of our routine, so we never really knew any different or had a choice otherwise. We had chores and watched some tv, but we played outside a lot. I can distinctly remember many of the games we made up, the characters we became and the situations we produced were reflective of those in our favorite books. It was imagination at work. A beautiful thing and a lost art, I'm afraid.

Books impacted my childhood, my development and much of my life. Being read to at night or just because, tracing my fingers across the words and being encouraged to sound out words so I was able to read before I entered Kindergarten, gave me an incredible appreciation for books, opened my mind to a bigger world and nurtured some of my fondest childhood memories.

Collin is a writer, poet and part owner of a publishing house. So the power of words are near and dear to his heart, and I appreciate that about him dearly. Two of my favorite stories we share revolve around books as children: our parent's reading all the ValueTales to us when we were kids and School Book Fairs. Anticipating the week that the Book Fair came to school; how we spent hours poring over that leaflet newspaper making a wish list, hoping the books were still there when your grade was called. We crack up remembering detail for detail some of our most tragic misses (when C had detention on his day) and glorious finds (when I snagged the last & hottest Judy Blume)...y'all remember those days, right? We lived one state and 250 miles apart but the experience was exactly the same as were the importance of books in our lives. But really, if I hadn't fallen for this boy already, it was done-for the day we quoted our favorite editions and characters from our beloved ValueTales.

As I sit here on this lazy day spending a chunk of time reading my book, articles online, and writing this blog, I certainly appreciate the mass resources for reading material and writing outlets. However, the death of magazines, newspapers and much of the print world, along with the spirit and power of a simple storybook make my heart ache, so.

Amazon has created the Kindle, a digital book, a technological phenomenon and a tragedy, I say. You can't own the book and re-read it or call it an old friend. And you can't smell the pages or take it to the beach, let it get soaked and feel the crunchy pages. Little Golden Books are going strong, and will keep the spirit of sweet simple stories alive as long as everlasting classics like Tootle and, my personal favorite, The Pokey Little Puppy stay in production and aren't smothered by princesses, pixar and gaudy Disney characters .

But the mainstream literary fatality that I am having the hardest time dealing with is the PBS show Reading Rainbow. A show that I watched everyday of 4th grade in Mrs. Pollard's class, after school and for fun. The show that has the whimsical theme song that we'll never forget. The show that showed us how books can come to life and make us want to pick up another one. This series has fallen victim to a new thought process of teaching children how to read instead of encouraging them to enjoy reading, thinking outside of the box, bringing characters to life, and simply using their imagination. Sure, new-age thought processes and technological advancements generate exceptional benefits, but there is power and lifelong value in the simplicity of words and illustrations and the sheer use of imagination. I'd like to think that I'm a product of this as are my brother and sisters and they'd all agree. Yet, my parents, Aunt Becky, Lela and Reading Rainbow are to thank for that.

I try and balance my reading world of equal time with my dear paperback friends & writing handwritten notes and enjoying this interactive outlet of blogging & website surfing but it's not always easy...convenience often wins. But sometimes all it takes is a stroll to the children's section of the bookstore or to those few shelves on our farm library to pick up my favorite book with that golden edge. Then I read the first line, though I know it by heart.

“Five little puppies dug a hole under the fence and went for a walk in the wide, wide world.”

It never fails, and it's funny how simple words and colorful pages greatly impact the perspective of my little ole life in this big ole world; as a dreamer, a sinner and a smiler...and everything becomes a bit more settled, simpler, and fairly perfect...if just for the right now.