Pondering on Books

 

Today's photo is of two things I love. Books and flowers! I post a floral photo on my Facebook page every morning. They give me a lift, and judging from the response, others feel the same way. 

My blog, however, focuses on the books rather than the flowers. I have loved books ever since my mother read to me when I was a toddler. I have a vivid memory of sitting next to her, as close as I could get, while she read me a picture book about a character named Mr. Flibbertyjibbet. I don't remember what the story was about, but I do clearly remember Mother reading and and the name of the character. One that would appeal to a small child, for sure. 

My mother took me to the public library when I was in kindergarten and had learned to write my name. To get a library card then, you had to be able to sign your name on a card the librarian produced. It must have taken a bit of time to print Nancy Julien in the space given. But, once that was done, the librarian at the desk held my hand and showed me where the books I would like were shelved. Another very clear memory. In fact, I have a personal essay about that experience, including a detailed description of the librarian, who became my friend through the years I used our local library. 

I don't think I ever thanked my mother for taking me to the library at an early age, but I certainly should have in later years. She introduced me to a life long love of books.

As I grew older, books became an essential in my life. I moved from the children's section in the library to the books for teens, now known as YA. Then, it was on to the adult section where I found untold wonders waiting for me. It was there that I found a book by Pearl S. Buck, became a devout follower, reading as many of her books as our library held. 

There has never been a time in my life when I didn't read for pleasure. Even as a working adult, then a busy mom later, I found time to read. No, I made time to read. I have often said in a blog post that writers who claim there is no time left for them to write should look at the problem in a different way. You can make time to write, just as I did with reading. Now, in my senior years with fewer must-do parts of my life, I have more time to read. 

I received that first library card when I was five, and now I'm an octogenarian, and I still use the library on a regular basis. I do occasionally read books on the Kindle, but I prefer making a visit to the library every 3-4 weeks, searching the New Book shelves, then back to the stacks where myriad books await for a reader to select them. For me, there is a feeling of comfort when I visit the library. I sorely missed it when the library was closed to the public during the worst months of the pandemic. 

The first time I ventured back for a visit, I was moved to write a poem about the experience when I returned home. 

Lost in the Land of Books

I went to the library today,

just now opened again

after this pandemic calamity.

Lights ablaze, the stacks hushed,

staff ready to help, but distanced,

sanitizer stations like sentries.

And then, I was completely lost

in the land of books, where perverts 

and pirates, heroes, and heroines

reposed on sanitized shelves.

mine for the choosing.

Imagination my companion

as I read one frontispiece

after another, slowly studied myriad

book covers to see which called to me.

Losing track of time, I pulled

book after book from 

the shelves and returned some, 

kept others to take home.

from this land of books.

I went to the library today,

the anticipation of what I’d

find there bringing warmth 

to my literary soul, 

soothing in these tough times.

I noted the librarian’s smile

in her eyes above her mask

as she checked out my books.

“Nice to see you again,” she said.

I replied, “So nice to be here.” 

                    --Nancy Julien Kopp (c)

Yes, flowers and books are two of the joys of my life. I would be totally lost without them. How about you? What are two of your greatest joys in life?