When I was living in Jamaica, I loved when school was out because it allotted me the freedom to do as I chose. I would find myself in a lot of trouble doing things that “a girl” had no business doing. I would often be ripping and running through the streets and gullies in Salts Spring (Mon.tego Bay, JA) and would often be reprimanded by my grandmother, aunts, mother and anyone else who knew my family. But there were many occasions as I was growing up during my free moments when I would just disappear.
My grandfather had a high love for education and the written word. He believed that every book should be treated with respect. When my mother and her siblings were growing up in order for her to get new books for the school year she had to surrender her books from the last school year in perfect condition. If she did not, she faced the wrath of Whiteside, my grandfather’s moniker. The reason for that was simple, growing up in my grandfather’s time they didn’t have the luxury of schooling, they were forced to work if they wanted to have their basic human needs of food and shelter met. My great-grandmother who was around for most of my life used to tell us that she never learned how to read and write and when she tried she got a beating to go back to work. She made sure her kids knew how and till the day she died, they read her all her correspondences from her family and wrote all her letters for her. In any case, these same rules were passed down to me and I obeyed them, quite simply because even I feared and respected my grandfather and I wasn’t about to try him. He kept all those books, along with others he brought “downstairs” in a cool dimly lit room that I called his office, the entire wall was filled with books and the ones with “questionable” material were kept on the top shelf, but never you fear I read those too. J
I would do into that room and take a book and disappear into the back and climb into a tree. There I would sit nestled in whatever crook I could find and I would stay until the book was finished. I would hear people calling for me but I seldom answered. More often than not I had smuggled some of my remaining breakfast of ackee and saltfish, or egg and callaloo and make mini sandwiches with the fried dumpling, mashed them up and stuffed them in my pockets or whatever way I could transport them and those provided food for the time that I spent outside. After awhile though I had read and re-read a lot of those books and took advantage of the book-mobile that came from the St. Ja.mes library. It was akin to the ice-cream truck, I heard the truck coming and I went a runnin’.
After we moved to the States, I still continued this ritual. It was slightly different though. Gone were the mashed breakfast remains, the library and the book truck. Instead during summer break I would get up and go to the library, waiting for them to open the doors. I selected my book choices and went right back home. There I sat in the living room on the “one-seater” couch, nestled myself into the crook and threw my dangling legs over the side and there I would sit for hours. I remember once I got 5 books and stayed up all night reading all 5 books, the next day I went back for more.
I started reading the Dav.inci Co.de on Tuesday on the way to work. I had been meaning to read it for some time and never could get started. I stayed up last night until 3:30 am reading that book barely able to put it down until I had read the last word. It was goooood. Ahhh it felt so good to be able to do that again, its been awhile and now I feel like my zest has returned. I am patiently waiting the arrival of some books that I ordered yesterday.
Kos.her Sex (thanks god’s child)
Opr.ahs Summer Reading of Fau.lkner which includes: As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, Light in August
Don’t Play in the Sun: One Woman’s Journey Through the Color Complex. by Marita Golden.
Dre.ams from my Fa.ther by Bar.ack Oba.ma
Ra.ce Mat.ters by Co.rnel W.est.
I suspect my love of the written word came from my grandfather. To me it takes such a great labor of love and dedication to piece together the words that float around in your head and share. It’s not easy to sit down and publish your thoughts and then have it sent out, not knowing. I know how anxious I get when people read my stuff. I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit! Lol. It used to really bother me when I was in college when people jacked their books up, sold back classic pieces of work and just blatantly disrespected that labor of love. I already have a truckload of books such that I have no room for them and have to stack them horizontally for them to fit on my shelf. My home wherever it is will tout a whole wall filled with books and all the “questionable” material will go on the top shelf as well. I want my children to embrace the written word and understand that though now it’s their right, it wasn’t always. I want them to know that great mystery’s can be revealed between the lines on a page and that the journey to everything great begins in your mind. It’s a tribute to my grandfather who I loved more than cooked food. A tribute to the memory to the people who worked so hard to make sure that I had the “luxury” of being able to read afforded to me. How can I not carry it on?
My grandfather had a high love for education and the written word. He believed that every book should be treated with respect. When my mother and her siblings were growing up in order for her to get new books for the school year she had to surrender her books from the last school year in perfect condition. If she did not, she faced the wrath of Whiteside, my grandfather’s moniker. The reason for that was simple, growing up in my grandfather’s time they didn’t have the luxury of schooling, they were forced to work if they wanted to have their basic human needs of food and shelter met. My great-grandmother who was around for most of my life used to tell us that she never learned how to read and write and when she tried she got a beating to go back to work. She made sure her kids knew how and till the day she died, they read her all her correspondences from her family and wrote all her letters for her. In any case, these same rules were passed down to me and I obeyed them, quite simply because even I feared and respected my grandfather and I wasn’t about to try him. He kept all those books, along with others he brought “downstairs” in a cool dimly lit room that I called his office, the entire wall was filled with books and the ones with “questionable” material were kept on the top shelf, but never you fear I read those too. J
I would do into that room and take a book and disappear into the back and climb into a tree. There I would sit nestled in whatever crook I could find and I would stay until the book was finished. I would hear people calling for me but I seldom answered. More often than not I had smuggled some of my remaining breakfast of ackee and saltfish, or egg and callaloo and make mini sandwiches with the fried dumpling, mashed them up and stuffed them in my pockets or whatever way I could transport them and those provided food for the time that I spent outside. After awhile though I had read and re-read a lot of those books and took advantage of the book-mobile that came from the St. Ja.mes library. It was akin to the ice-cream truck, I heard the truck coming and I went a runnin’.
After we moved to the States, I still continued this ritual. It was slightly different though. Gone were the mashed breakfast remains, the library and the book truck. Instead during summer break I would get up and go to the library, waiting for them to open the doors. I selected my book choices and went right back home. There I sat in the living room on the “one-seater” couch, nestled myself into the crook and threw my dangling legs over the side and there I would sit for hours. I remember once I got 5 books and stayed up all night reading all 5 books, the next day I went back for more.
I started reading the Dav.inci Co.de on Tuesday on the way to work. I had been meaning to read it for some time and never could get started. I stayed up last night until 3:30 am reading that book barely able to put it down until I had read the last word. It was goooood. Ahhh it felt so good to be able to do that again, its been awhile and now I feel like my zest has returned. I am patiently waiting the arrival of some books that I ordered yesterday.
Kos.her Sex (thanks god’s child)
Opr.ahs Summer Reading of Fau.lkner which includes: As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, Light in August
Don’t Play in the Sun: One Woman’s Journey Through the Color Complex. by Marita Golden.
Dre.ams from my Fa.ther by Bar.ack Oba.ma
Ra.ce Mat.ters by Co.rnel W.est.
I suspect my love of the written word came from my grandfather. To me it takes such a great labor of love and dedication to piece together the words that float around in your head and share. It’s not easy to sit down and publish your thoughts and then have it sent out, not knowing. I know how anxious I get when people read my stuff. I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit! Lol. It used to really bother me when I was in college when people jacked their books up, sold back classic pieces of work and just blatantly disrespected that labor of love. I already have a truckload of books such that I have no room for them and have to stack them horizontally for them to fit on my shelf. My home wherever it is will tout a whole wall filled with books and all the “questionable” material will go on the top shelf as well. I want my children to embrace the written word and understand that though now it’s their right, it wasn’t always. I want them to know that great mystery’s can be revealed between the lines on a page and that the journey to everything great begins in your mind. It’s a tribute to my grandfather who I loved more than cooked food. A tribute to the memory to the people who worked so hard to make sure that I had the “luxury” of being able to read afforded to me. How can I not carry it on?
10 Comments:
beautiful story. how i wish the simple times back but with age comes responsibility. the da vin.ci code i haven't read but i heard if you enjoyed the code, you would enjoy angels and demons of the same author. i haven't been this engrossed reading a novel since i don't know when. i'm an autobiography person... let me know your thoughts for i pretty sure you will be finished in record time... :)
this was really nice. I remember the book mobile too. I loved reading as a child, would go to the public library every saturday and then in high school the first three years i read more library books than text books which kind of affected my grades.
I love the written word, my shelves are full just find it hard to really get going sometimes these days.
I think passing on a love for reading to our kids is important. as you said back in the day our kin werent allowed the priviledge of reading so we shouldnt take that for granted these days. Yea playing games and stuff is all fun but try to get the kids to read too. if you can read they cant hide the knowledge from you
I love your writing... and I too am sensitive about people reading me... so I can relate.
The first time I wrote a post for my blog, I was sweating over it... and I'm STILL like that everytime I write somethign serious or personal, which is why as of late, I usually opt for the silly and light-hearted.
Your story was beautiful and your love and respect of the written word is admirable.
I too want to raise my children to have that same sort of respect... like you, books were my escape as a child... I can only hope that if I ever have children they will love reading as much as you and I did/do. Wouldn't it break your heart if your kids didn't? LOL =)
Hey miss. Very nicely done and an enticing read. I miss reading. When I lived in NYC, I read all the time. During breaks, sometimes on the weekend, but mostly on the subways or buses. Now, with driving to and from work all the time, that luxury is extinct.
However, I still keep in touch via Audio books. Doesn't have the same feel, but nonetheless, I don't have to miss out on my favorite reads. You went back into the time machine on the Book Mobile. Man! I loved reading so much, I used to read in front of the light from a television without the room light being on. Comics, schoolwork, it didn't matter. If it had text, it was going to be read.
I don't have children, but you know what? If I did, I would handle the situation just as casually as you are doing it. Kudos to you and thank you for helping to advance the movement luv carry the damn thing on!
I don't think I have ever told you this, but I think my passion for reading was inspired by you. I have always loved to read. I had a library card as soon as I was old enough to carry one. When my Mother disciplined us she would take away our cards and that was like a death sentence. The public library was walking distance from our house and that was like the ultimate high.
I used to read Encyclopedia Brown, Babysitters Club, Sweet Valley High, and Nancy Drew. They were all series so getting to the librbary for the next one was life's mission.
But my passion for reading. My deep respect and appreciation for words that may have taken years for a person to formulate into pages began when I met you. I have never met someone who owned so many books. Additionally, you had read them all. It didn't matter the author, the content, or the length, if it was a good read, you owned it.
Now, I have turned that passion into monthly rituals of bonding with my girlfriends at our Reflections Book Club meetings. I am signed up to a book club where I can get a book sent to my home every month. And when I am in desperate need for something uplifting and inspirational, you have never disappointed me. Filling up my book shelf is at the top of my "to do" list.
Thank you for your silent inspiration. Even today I am touched by each and every word you transform into a story.
www.zooba.com
Kizzie
you know, I took out that "Don't Play in the Sun" but didn't have the patience to read it.
I remember, vaguely, the library truck. I remember taking out a copy of some bible story--and would you believe I lost the book before I even had a change to read it.
Oh yes, and I thought Kosher Sex was going to be racy the way he went on in the intro but it was merely interesting and practical.
Great post. I read a lot as a child too. Its a hobby that I've since lost. Don't get me wrong, I still read but not nearly as much as I used to. I have a friend that has read perhaps a total of 3 books in her life...3 books? How can you not love written word? How can you be 25 and have never experienced the joy of reading a book you loved so much that you couldn't put it down. Girl...you know I'm going home and cracking open a book right. I have two there waiting for me. :-)
BTW you got me wanting some ackee and saltfish now.
wow!! great story!!! I share the same love of books!!! I hate it when people don't return your books!!!! especially the hardcovers!!
great post!!
I could relate to this post on so many levels...the reading, the bunkering up in a secret spot, the respect of the books themselves...I love books, love being taken away to a different landscape, filling my head with different facts, just zoning out. Thank you for sharing. This was a great post.
This is such a great story. Thanks for sharing..and like Nia said now I would love some saltfish and ackee.
Post a Comment
<< Home