Education begins the gentleman, but reading, good company and reflection must finish him.
-- John Locke
Being an only child living so far out in the woods with just me, my mama and our critters, I developed a rich inner life. Early on, I learned to entertain myself, having deep conversations with wildlife in the meadow or stuffed animals in my room, sharing stories told me from folks I'd encounter or books I'd read.
Books, books and more books filled my room. My mama encouraged my book reading, as well as my education in general. She couldn't help with it much, given her own scant education, but she supported my efforts by taking me to our town's library and introducing me to the world beyond our windows.
I welcomed Saturdays with the cold feel of a black iron handrail leading to multitudes of musty pages. While my mama headed toward biographies and genealogy, I hit the children's literature section. My favorites were Miss Suzy by Miriam Young and The Boxcar Children by Gertrude Chandler Warner. To this day, my copy of Miss Suzy is one of the items I'd try to grab if my house caught fire. I cried in bed the night I finished the last of the Boxcar series. They were my friends, and I'd finished my time with them. Or so I thought.
I moved on to new favorites by Harper Lee and John Steinbeck, who remain my favorite authors today.
My book reading waned in college and law school, as my time was spent with text books, which I found mostly dull and devoid of value. But I've returned to my roots with the classics, taking another stroll around Walden Pond with Henry David Thoreau and jumping in the truck with Steinbeck and his dog Charley as they drove in search of America and found themselves.
For me, reading and writing is as natural as breathing, maybe more so. When asked about my column, I usually say I write about living simply in the South. But it's more elusive than that, I suppose. I can only write of things I know, the experiences I've had, the stories I've lived. I reflect on those times not so much as a longing, but as an acknowledgment that I'm the product of my yesterdays.
As I write, I often look to a photograph of my mama smiling in a blue cap and gown. I recall the nights she spent at the kitchen table after working in the steel factory, crying and swearing in her attempt to learn subjects she missed in her youth. She wanted to graduate high school before her daughter. Together, we made it happen.
November is National Family Literacy Month. It's a time to read together as a family, to learn what inspires the minds of those closest to you. For those times shared remain part of you long after the last page is turned.
This month, I read and reflect, and am thankful for your being part of the good company that finishes me.
NAN Our Town on 11/11/2015