Reading
1/2019
It was something that ran in the family. We read; to ourselves and each other. This was Mom’s influence. All us of cherish the memories of Mom reading Winnie the Pooh stories to us.
“We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Pooh?”
“Even longer.”
And I’d wager money that all four of us Hardy Boys; even the ones in their dotage (that is, all of those not me.) could tell you what a Tweedle Beetle fight is called.
So, this tradition continued with the latest crop of Hardys. We picked only the best for young Alexander. Who can forget the riveting plot of Pat the Bunny?
Richard Scary told my son all about living in a busy busy town.
And things that go.
And of course, Sandra Boynton was a big hit. Moo, Baa, La La La!, Barnyard Dance, But Not The Hippopotamus! among many, many other classics.
Sadly for his parents, the boy is currently at an age where bursting out into children’s poetry isn’t really his thing.
Sadly for the boy, his parents are at an age where bursting is pretty much mandatory.
Hey! Come join the lot of us!
And she doesn’t know-
Should she stay? Should she go?
But YES the hippopotamus!
Naturally, he and I liked to keep up on current events; reading the weekly paper that both his Dad and Grandmother worked for back in the day.
But he always had an interest in the hard sciences.
As he got older, we started chapter books together and like me, he tended towards fantasy. One series, coupled with a fortuitous loss of a tooth, inspired Alexander to write his first letter to a celebrity. (See Thrilling Celebrity Visit)
He did get a letter in reply (along with two silver dollars) but whether he wishes to share its contents with the wider world is up to him.
He missed meeting one of his favorite authors by a mere 9 months. As he gets closer to driving age, Grandma Jeanne’s descriptions of my attempts behind the wheel get more and more amusing to him. (But strangely, less amusing to me.)
He enjoyed that and the hundreds of other articles she wrote about the Hardy Family’s adventures in the country.
Years passed. The books got longer and more mature. We read about Moses in the reeds. Mary at the Tomb.
Odysseus and Circe. King Arthur and his family issues.
George Washington returning to his farm after giving up his sword. Rosa Parks on that bus. How to build a fire, an emergency shelter and a nest egg.
He (literally) and I (figuratively) held our breath waiting as Digory read:
Make your choice, adventurous Stranger,
Strike the bell and bide the danger.
Or wonder, till it drives you mad,
What would have followed if you had.
He and I learned what pork cracklins were, thanks to Wiley and his Grandpa. About commitment from Sam Gamgee. Bravery from Atticus Finch.
“Seriously now son, you know we never use this sort of language now, right? Ever!”
“I heard you the first 8 times, Dad.”
And we agreed that Holden Caulfield really is just awful.
Alexander even comforted me as a tried to read that chapter in Deathly Hallows. You know, that ..(uh)…“part” where that really sad “thing” happens.
(Pats me on the shoulder.)
“It’s okay, Dad.”
And it was.
But neither the White Witch, nor Sauron are implacable a foe as Father Time. The Boy’s growing up. Starting to look at colleges. His advanced classes give him lots of homework each night. The 30 minute sessions, five nights a week dropped down to 20 minutes four nights.
And then three.
I could tell the writing was on the wall. (Yep, we read “Daniel” also.) I wanted to end it with something magnificent.
And, well….lengthy.
So, we went with Neil Gaiman’s series The Sandman. Why settle for just one genre, time period and mythology when you can have them all?
And it’s ten volumes.
But we finished it last night. My attempts to interest him in the further adventures of Sandman’s way cooler older sister fell flat. Seemed slightly annoyed at the offer.
No, that ship has left the station. That train has sailed. We are in a slightly new phase of life. We are now “reading colleagues”. I no longer have the authority to tell him, “This is a great book. We shall read it together starting tonight! Put your jammies on.” No, we’ll share what we’re reading; perhaps persuade each other to try this or that. As I said, a new phase.
I get a whole new crop of youngsters every September and that’s nice. Not the same but nice. I’m positive I’ve created scads of DiscWorld fans. Even more with the ability to make Star Wars figures out of origami. There are worse legacies.
No, right now this late (late) middle-aged Dad is looking forward to having a son who isn’t too cool to play Pooh-Stick. Or above bursting into children’s poetry at random times.
Until that glorious time, he’s got me.
Stomp your feet!
Clap your hands!
Everybody ready
For a Barnyard Dance!
Now, get up and go embarrass your children. You’ve earned it!