SPRINKLED WITH BOOKS

 

Before my oldest child was born, my book club hosted a baby shower for me that I’ll never forget.

Each member gave me a copy of her favorite children’s book. The collection became my son’s first library.

I was touched by the stories each person told as I unwrapped the books, and my friends shared why each gift was a favorite.

The collection remains on our shelves today, even though my son is graduating middle school.

Once in a while, when he’s searching for something to read, he’ll see “Guess How Much I Love You” by Sam McBratney, “Thump, Thump, Rat-a-Tat-Tat” by Gene Kaer, “Good-night Gorilla” by Peggy Rathmann or “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?” by Bill Martin Jr.

“I remember that board book,” he’ll say, selecting one off the shelf.

To this day, reading “Love You Forever” by Robert N. Munsch still makes me cry.

I feel a wave of gratefulness when I see my son spontaneously reading Marianna Mayer’s “Pegasus” or A.A. Milne’s “When We Were Very Young.” I credit his love of reading to my book club. Their kindness gave him a great head start.

But the book club didn’t just shower me with gifts for my son. They also copied their favorite poems about motherhood and compiled them elegantly inside two pieces of lavender tulle tied with a grape satin ribbon.

The collection includes “My Mother” by Jane Taylor, “Lines and Squares” and “Halfway Down” by A.A. Milne, “The Reading Mother” by Strickland Gillilan, “The Children’s Hour” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Misnomer” by Eve Merriam and “The Swing” by Robert Louis Stevenson.

I like to read their favorite poems on Mother’s Day as my son and his younger brother prepare me breakfast in bed. The gift and their friendship truly is a treasure. And so are my sons.

-- cawk

SMALL PRINT

During baseball season, I get a lot of reading done.

While my sons practice their batting and fielding, I walk a couple of loops through the park and then settle in the car or on a bench, depending on the weather, with a good book to read.

Unlike at home, I feel no guilt turning the pages instead of folding laundry. No telephone rings or computer dings interrupt me in the middle of chapters. The coaches keep my children occupied, and my favorite authors keep me engrossed.

Yesterday, I grabbed a paperback book of short stories by Stephen Crane on my way out the door. When we arrived at the park, one of my sons headed toward the baseball diamond while his older brother remained in the back seat. He had about a half hour to wait until his practice started.

He mumbled something about not having anything to do because he left his electronics at home.

“Well, I brought my book,” I boasted with a bit of an attitude.

But when I turned the front cover and opened the book, I couldn’t read the pages. The words were all blurry.

“I can’t see!” I said with alarm. “The print is too small! I can’t see.”

“Mom, you have on your glasses,” my son said.

“I know. Can you believe that? I can’t see, even with my glasses on,” I was so disturbed.

“No, Mom. You have on your sunglasses,” he said.

And so I did. Gracefully, I switched them with my reading glasses and the words on the page came into focus.

The first time I read “The Blue Hotel” by Stephen Crane was in high school in the 1980s. I think the book I read had the same cover as the volume I was trying to read at the park. I checked the front pages and found the copyright date of 1970. The words had to be 8 point type. They were so small!

“If I had my electronic reader with me, you could download the book and make the type any size you want,” my son said.

What a blessing that would be not to have to squint and maneuver the page at certain angles to read the words.

“I’d like to try that,” I said.

 

Let's hope the change is as easy as switching glasses.

--cawk