If someone asked me what I liked best when I was a
child, it might have been hearing stories. When Mom tucked us in at night, she
told us a story—such as Little
Red Riding Hood or The Three Bears
that she told from memory. Every week at Sunday School, the teacher read a Bible story.
When we girls were a little older, we told those stories or read to our younger siblings. When relatives gathered
around the table for a meal, guess what? More stories.
During my Grade 6 year, when I was off school for
several weeks on account of illness, my mother knew a good way to occupy my
time. She bought three brand new books for me and I sped through them. I had nothing
else to do, but read and sleep. Black
Beauty, by Anna Sewell, Trixie
Belden and the Red Trailer Mystery were done in a matter of days, and having new books of
my own was a treasure.
My Grade 8 teacher read to us each day after lunch.
I didn’t want to miss any of the adventures, whether it was Tom Sawyer or Swiss Family Robinson, two of the three books he read to us that
year.
We had a library in our nearby community. One day
Mom said to my sister and me that we could go to the library while she did some
errands in town and that we were to be back at the car in ten minutes. I was overwhelmed
at the choices and neither of us could not decide on one book in such a short time and so went
back to the car without a book, which surprised my mother. We would have needed a library card and we lacked the time to do both. It was as bit disappointing and we didn’t get another
opportunity. Farm life was busy; and time was at a
premium.
In high school we had our own library in the school,
from which I borrowed one book in my first year. I travelled to school by bus, and
it was winter; the buses were cancelled because of a blizzard, and though I returned
the book immediately after getting off the bus the next day, the librarian
still gave me a hard time because the book was one day late. I never borrowed
another book from that place.
Later, when I taught preschoolers, I borrowed books from the
nearby library to augment our school’s collection and ones that I wanted to
read too. That was the real beginning of my love of the library and being a regular
patron.
I took my children to the library when they could
only toddle across the floor or climb the steps on hands and knees. We borrowed
stacks of books each time and read a story at bedtime every night and
during the day.
Middle daughter with her book about cats to tease her into reading |
My girls are grown. Our eldest is an avid reader, the
youngest is studying for a new career, and the middle one reads to her two
small children. And I read and tell
stories to my granddaughters too.
Today, after telling stories at the Waterloo Region
Museum, to other people’s children, I stopped at the library to pick up a book
that I had reserved, and then another.
On Tuesday this week, a bag of books I have
collected and read over the years, minus ones I cannot part with or need to keep, will go to a
new home—the Ronald McDonald House—so that parents, having a sick child and
time on their hands, might pick up a book for pleasure and enjoy it themselves
or read to their child. It’s a small thing I can do to help them and share the
pleasures of a good story.
www.carolynwilker.ca
6 comments:
And look at you now! Books consume your life! What a lovely progression of your years and a great idea for passing on books. Nice Post, Carolyn.
Thanks for spot-on storytelling, Carolyn - I'm privileged to know you as you've enriched my life.
I agree with the ladies, Carolyn.
You're a clear example of: From childhood story lover, to effective and well-loved adult story teller.
We know you'll keep up the good work! :) ~~+~~
A love for stories and storytelling has marked my life too. Nothing has the power to change a life like a well-told story. That's why the gospel story resonates so deeply with us. Thanks for sharing your story, Carolyn.
A belated thank you, Glynis, Donna, Peter and David for your kind comments.
It's been such a month of storytelling in March. And yes, they do touch us deeply.
Actually, the bag of books turned into two bags and for anyone else who might want to share a bit of their library, Ronald McDonald House in Hamilton was most grateful for them.
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