Another Day Another Blow Job (or My First True Love)

From 2002:

Dear Diary,
Another day... another blowjob...

Oops!!! Sorry, just having a Go Ask Alice kind of moment. I would like to sincerely thank Mrs. Braithwaite, my fifth grade librarian, for recommending the book that indelibly etched those words into my psyche, and marked my transition from the Children's to the Young Adult's section at the local library. I would also like to thank my mother for patiently explaining, in words a fifth grader could understand, what exactly a "blow job" was. Two things I will always remember: 1) My Mom always answered my questions about sex without becoming embarrassed or angry, and 2)A "blow job" sounded like the most disgusting thing ever invented by a human being, and I was NEVER going to participate in such a degrading activity (yeah, right!)

For some reason, I was thinking about that book on my way to work this morning. I was remembering the people in my life who encouraged my adoration of the written word. Mr. Siegel, my second grade teacher, always read to the class, and set aside class time for "independent reading." Mrs. Braithwaite, the above mentioned elementary school librarian, invented a special award which she presented to me at my "moving up" ceremony. It was a maple plaque with a brass plate reading "Super Reader", and I was the first and only recipient. My mother, always my staunchest supporter, who trekked to the library with me every week and allowed me to choose whichever books piqued my interest. And last but not least, the children's librarian at the public library, whose name, for the moment, I cannot recall, who instituted the Summer Reading Program, in which teen volunteers listened to children describe books they read each week, and helped them pick out trinkets and stickers for each tome completed.

Anyway, I was reminiscing about my days spend curled up with a good book on my way to work this morning. I was one of those oddball children who would repose on a tree stump, engrossed in my newest discovery from Judy Blume, rather than playing hide and seek with the others. I used to beg my parents to allow me to stay up late, not to partake of the latest drivel offered by network television, but to finish the chapter I was working on in my Harriet the Spy novel. I am thoroughly convinced that the reason I wear glasses to this day is because of the reading by the light of a nightlight that I did as I child.

I hope that my children develop the love for the written word that I did. I refuse to force my interests upon them, but I will try to sway their opinion of reading by providing an environment that encourages them to lose themselves in the pages of a good book. I will purchase books for them that reflect their hobbies and interests, and make them available for their perusal. My cousin was reading by the time he was in preschool, not because his parents forced him to study phonics or learn his alphabet at six months, but rather because they constantly read him his favorite books, allowing him to follow along with the words as they verbalized them.

All I know is that as a child, books provided an alternate world for me. Books did not care about my weight. Books did not call me four eyes. Books did not care if I was afraid to catch a ball. Books were my first love, and it has developed into a life long affair.

Reading is Fundamental

I love to read. I have ALWAYS loved to read. I LOVE a good story. Although my parents were not big on reading themselves, they instilled a love for the written word in me early by reading my sisters and I a story every night before we went to bed. After I learned how to read, I was constantly found with my nose in a book, immersing myself in the world held between the pages.

I also LOVED learning. I remember when I was in 2nd grade, my aunt had been given a stash of discarded textbooks from my cousin's school. She was getting ready to discard them, when I spotted the pile of books. I asked her if I could take them home, and when I did, I absorbed the information found within voraciously.

When my sisters, neighbors and cousins would spend the day playing games and sports, I would participate for only a short while. Then, I would go sit on a tree stump in the backyard, and read a story. How I loved the adventures of Harriet the Spy, Encyclopedia Brown and Superfudge. I learned how to eat fried worms, and I imagined I was a student at Sweet Valley High. I desperately wanted to be a "Greaser" and hang out with Ponyboy, Soda Pop, Johnny and the rest of the gang.

As a child, I was picked on and berated by my peers. So, I would lose myself in the world I found in my books, in a world of my own imagination. Everywhere I went, I carried at least one book. When my mother took me to the library I would pick out more books then I could carry. I even read the back of cereal boxes!

I remember begging my parents to let me leave my bedroom lights on for "just ten more minutes" or "until I get to the end of this chapter". And after lights out, I would struggle to read by the dim nightlight!

Nowadays, I spend more time reading than I do in any other past time. I NEVER go anywhere without a book. I try to rotate between fiction and non fiction. I am partial to thrillers and forensic detective novels. I love fiction by Black authors and featuring characters from all walks of life. I also love reading books about politics, race and justice. But, I will read absolutely anything (except those corny romance novels with models like Fabio on the cover)

I cannot imagine life without books. I read somewhere that the majority of people, once they are done with school, NEVER pick up another book. I cannot imagine living my life like that. There is nothing that can compare to a good book. Nothing in the world.

Right now, I am hoping to eventually be a mother. I look forward to the day when I can read "Good Night Moon" and "Where the Wild Things Are" to my own child. I am looking forward to the joy in their eyes when they read a Harry Potter or Twilight book (or whatever are the children's must read books at the time when they are growing up)

I hope that I can instill in my future child the same love for the limitless possibilities that reading provides. I know my love for reading has probably impacted my life more than anything else. I hope to pass that on. When a child loves to read, they are never alone.

I realize that as a child, my reading materials offered little to no cultural diversity. So, although I would like to share some of the stories I enjoyed with my own children, I do realize that I need to find books with a diverse cast of characters.

I am someone who loves to do research though, so I am sure there will be no problem finding reading material suitable for my children, books they can see themselves in, and characters with whom they can identify! But, if anyone out there can suggest some good books with non-white protagonists OR a multicultural cast of characters, I would really appreciate some suggestions.