Reading

When I was a kid, my parents and others taught me to read. I think it was to keep me quiet when they had company or we went out. It was something I never really thanked them for when I grew up.

Books took me everywhere. One week I was a pirate on Treasure Island, the next I was solving a mystery with Nancy Drew or “Brains” Benton. With Jules Verne, I explored the sea. I read about Greek, Roman, Indian, and Norse mythology. I read about Johnny Appleseed and our Founders. Ray Bradbury and Frank Herbert made believe that space travel was possible. Doctor Who books, while campy, when I started reading them, made me wish time travel existed so I could witness it in person.

I read everything I could get my hands on, cereal boxes, the newspaper, and even directions.

It got better (or worse, depending on your point of view). I was always ahead in my reading in school. I read biographies, histories, and discovered the Civil War. (I lived in Chicago, IL so it was natural.) It has always intrigued me that we, as a country, could fight and kill each other so indiscriminately. (This is what scares me about our current events.)

But I digress.

Reading taught me to think, to examine and even how to love.

In confirmation classes through the Lutheran Church, I had to read and memorize Luther’s Catechism both the Bible and Church stuff and Luther’s explanations of them. I had to recite them. (Can’t remember a thing of this). However, we also had to be able to understand them and debate them. We did. But we did begin to understand exegesis and hermeneutics. We didn’t learn those words but it’s what we were doing as young teens (12-14). Maybe this is where I began to think critically and not take everything I read as the “truth.”

My Mother also bought me a book, A Separate Peace, which introduced me to a more complex world. I don’t remember a lot of the book, but it had the first ever sex scene I read. And it was explicit, as least, in my 13 year old mind. I had read The Godfather, the year before as well. So that was my introduction to relationships. I sometimes wonder if these books colored my viewpoint?

I didn’t discover romance as a genre until I was in college and then they were frowned upon by my peers. I had evaded reading the classic romances. I didn’t have to take English Literature so I took other literature classes, more contemporary stuff like James Baldwin, mysteries, and science fiction. I read more philosophy, satire and poetry. Still, trying to find something that made sense to me. I always identified with the male protagonist in the books I read, except when I found a strong female lead character. Even then I couldn’t understand why she would attach herself to a man, and then begin to defer to him.

That’s not what happened in my world. My Mother was a strong woman. My Dad was a strong man until what is now called Alzheimer’s attacked his mind. Then my Mother had to take on all the decision making on her own. She did it, but I saw the toll it took on her. I was a teenager, and did not know what to do except try to help. Even then, she allowed me to be a typical teenager as much as possible.

I continued to read. Mostly, science fiction and mysteries. My escape into fantastic worlds, different solar systems, and places where problems, murders, and other crimes were always solved by the time the last page came along.

Reading and research are my default. When I want to know about something, I research and read. It helps me to understand.