June 11, 2007

• Rainy days make me think about snuggling down into a corner of the couch with a book.
  A
  voracious reader from the time Miss Linda Sparkman taught me to "sound
  out" the words in the Dick and Jane first-grade readers,  I gobbled up
  books like a greedy child gorging herself with candy, and my challenge
  was always having enough books on hand to feed that hunger. My mother
  wasn't a reader herself, but she did her best to keep me supplied with
  books. School libraries were wonderful places for me, and the county
  library in my grandmother's little town in Mississippi yielded
  treasures.

  

  The Christmas and birthday gifts I treasured most were
  always hardback books, and the handful of volumes I owned were read
  over and over again. I could probably still quote parts of them to you.
  I
  have a feeling that most of you who read this column are book-lovers,
  too. Think back on the books you loved most as a child, the books you
  can still vividly remember, the books that cast a spell over you and
  beckoned you to lose yourself in their pages.
  Looking back, most of
  my favorite childhood books were classic novels that had stood the test
  of years. They had strong themes of family love, of withstanding
  hardship with grace, and of overcoming obstacles. In many of them, the
  healing power of nature is woven into the story. Checking the
  publication dates, I find that many of my favorites were written not
  too far from the turn of the 19th century.
  I bet I read my battered,
  light-green copy of Lucy Maud Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables (1908)
  50 times, and never failed to cry when I got to the deliciously sad
  chapter about the death of Matthew, Anne's beloved foster-father.
  

  

  I
  admired the red-headed orphan girl's spunk, sharp mind and loyalty to
  her family and friends, and enjoyed the book's sprinkles of humor. When
  I found the other Anne books later, I devoured them in delight, too.
  Some
  wise relative gave me a copy of The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come
  (1903), about an orphan boy in Kentucky before and during the Civil War
  years.
  

  

   I dearly loved that story, and remember the themes of honesty,
  courage and honor that were so strongly woven into John Fox' narrative.
  Little
  Women. Oh, I how I loved that gem of a book, written in 1868.  Louisa
  May Alcott became my first heroine, a girl just like her character, Jo,
  who loved to "scribble" and grew up to be a famous author. I vividly
  remember slouching in an overstuffed brown armchair in our house in
  Washington State, devouring Little Women for the first time when I was
  in grade school. I fell in love with the brave sisters - Meg, Jo, Beth
  and Amy, whose father was away fighting in the Civil War. I had no idea
  what the Union or the Confederacy were all about then - I just knew
  that our family had three little girls, and our military daddy was away
  a lot, too. One of the reasons I was so excited when our fourth sister
  came along was that our family was then more like the March family
  in Little Women.
  

  

  
  I think I even asked Mama if I could start calling her
  "Marmee." I can still remember weeping bitter tears over sweet little
  sister Beth's lingering death from scarlet fever, when she finally had
  to put down her needle because it "just got too heavy." Family love and
  loyalty, and learning to care about others less fortunate were strong
  lessons of that wonderful book.
  

  Some fairy godmother gave me two of
  the best books ever written for little girls
  - The Secret Garden (1909)
  
  
  

  and A Little Princess (1905), by Frances Hodgson Burnett, with Tasha
  Tudor's magical watercolor illustrations.
  

  

   I read them over and over
  again, and can still see the illustrations in my mind. Overcoming
  serious hardships. The life-changing love of friends and family. The
  enchantment of a garden. My copies of those books got lost in the
  shuffle at Mama's house after I grew up, but the publisher has
  re-issued the identical editions, and I bought them for our
  granddaughter Morgan last year. I hope she loves them as much as I do.
  If you have a young daughter or granddaughter, please be sure they
  don't miss these books.
  Another favorite was Johanna Spyri's Heidi,
  published in 1880. I can still see the Swiss Alpine meadows dotted with
  Heidi and Peter's goats.
  

  

  Maybe that's one reason why the Ozarks felt
  like home the very first time I saw them, because of the hillside
  pastures with pretty little white goats. The description of the melted
  fresh cheese on homemade bread that the Grandfather would make for
  Heidi's supper still makes my mouth water to think about it. Again, the
  power of the love of family and friends, as well as the importance of
  the natural world, are the lessons of this classic.
  The best-loved
  books of our childhoods leave deep impressions on our minds and color
  the way we see life forever after. That's why I like to give the
  children I love good books, because their words help form the lens
  through which the young readers will look at the world for the rest of
  their lives, and help shape the person they will become.

  By Celia DeWoody
  published in the Harrison (Ark.) Daily Times
  June 11, 2007
  Copyright CPI, Inc. 2007

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  • 7:22 pm
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