Book me.

The struggle is real.  Every time i sit down with a book I get the strongest cravings to light up a cigarette- stronger than when i'm drinking, or driving although never those two at the same time.  I can't remember a time i didn't read.

It was my great grandfather who started my love of books by walking me down to the 5 and dime store by his home in East Hampton MA when i was a little bit of a kid.  He'd get his morning paper and I would get to pick out a golden book. 

Then we would walk back to his house and we would sit in grandpa's big chair and he would read the book to me. (He also always kept a huge bag of M&M's in the pantry, low enough for me to sneak in and reach them.)  He was always gentle with me, never yelled or made me feel like i was in trouble - although the rest of the family did seem to tip toe around him.  He wasn't a big man, but he had a big presence and I loved him because i knew I could do no wrong in his eyes.  Ever.  

The second man to encourage my love of reading was my Grandfather, son in law to my Great Grandfather.  The two never saw eye to eye, one being a Brit and the other Irish during a time when that wasn't the best of marriage combinations.  They agreed with each other on absolutely NOTHING except reading.  Both knew the importance of and shared the love of books.  Not the same kind of books though because that would have been agreeing on something. 

My Grandparents lived in Florida where I would spend every summer of my young years chasing and catching lizards and "helping" my grandfather with his refrigeration business.  He would pick up broken refrigerators and fix them, then sell them again. I was his tag along during deliveries and at the end of the day we would go to 7-11 and i'd get a Coke Slushie and a Mad Magazine, or Cracked or even National Lampoon if the cover wasn't too scandalous.  He said it was better than me reading Teen Magazine.  He was not a fan of me decorating my room with pictures of boys ripped out of those magazines, and my grandmother was no fan of National Lampoon.....not exactly meant for children. 

Grandpa was a war vet and his taste in reading was history and politics which i found BORING. If you wanted a book on WWII or Hitler, he had it.   He had so many books that he actually had floor to ceiling bookshelves in his "library" which was a bathroom off the carport and garage.  As i got older, i scoured that library each summer for anything with the word sex on it....and only had success once when i found the Sir Magazine Book of Jokes which must have been a gift from someone.

 I took that book and i still have it somewhere.  Anyways, to keep me from "borrowing" any more books out of his library he began taking me to the real library once a week where he would let me browse for an hour and then take home an armful of books that i would inhale, literally and figuratively.  

I have a hard time now remembering a book i read last week, but i can remember some of those stories in full like i just closed the book a minute ago.  

My grandfather didn't believe in censoring me and he always asked me lots of questions about what I was reading. Then he would share his stories with me. This pissed my grandmother off when i started reading scary stories and therefor sleeping between them in their king size bed because i was scared.  That fucking Irish Banshee story he told me still makes my blood turn to ice.  I cried a lot over that story, scared that i would see one and someone would die.  STANLEY! I can still hear my grandmother admonishing him. Thing is, he never limited me and always encouraged my every literary curiosity.  He was the second man who thought i could do no wrong even if the women in the family were always telling him, and me different.  

My mother was also a reader but i have not one memory of her reading TO me, or taking me to pick out books.   I just always remember seeing her with a book and a cup of coffee.  So i guess we have that in common.  She had quite a collection herself and she loved Fiction.  She kept the "inappropriate" books on the top shelf in the rec room in the basement.  This was the cover of the  book "Fear of Flying" 

Obviously, my curious little mind couldn't resist reading it at every opportunity, careful not to fold over pages.  I. Was. Mortified.  and decided that i would never EVER have sex and that boys were disgusting creatures.   That didn't stop me from reading every single book on that  top shelf.  C'mon mom.  really?  That was too much temptation.  I was also influenced by Stephen King's "The Shining" and "The Stand" along with "Salems Lot"...........which horrified me in different ways.  

Books have always been my constant.  I've read them when I need to hide from the world, or calm down, or escape. Once, I was on serious pain medication after a surgery I had and my young kids took turns reading the Harry Potter books out loud to me because i was too high to see straight. I would lay there and argue with them that they weren't reading  Harry Potter....I don't remember that part but my daughter does.  What I do remember is the soothing feeling of being read to.  I associate reading with love.

Side note: I just started bawling because it occurred to me that besides teachers reading to the whole class, my children were the first (and last) people to read out loud to me since my grandfathers.  Jesus Christ is this what mid life is?  Fucking hormones.  

Anyways.

I started reading to both my babies before they were even born.  

When i worked at the boys emergency youth shelter, I would sit in the dark in the middle of the long hallway and read a book  out loud using a flashlight to see so they would go to sleep.  Those boys were between the ages of 11 and 17 and they would settle right in to listen to me read. The rule was if i had to stop more than once because of any shenanigans, i would stop reading for that night.  It never happened.  The favorite was "The Eyes of The Dragon" by Stephen King (of course).

Have you gotten yet, that books are important to me?  I'm not sure that i have made my point. How well does sarcasm translate in a blog? hmmm?

When I was married i resorted to hiding in the basement with a book until i heard footsteps coming down the stairs and then i would jump up and get busy "doing laundry".    My ex didn't have high tolerance for me "sitting around doing nothing". Think about me living with someone who considered that a waste of time.  YEah.

Ever since i quit smoking it's been difficult to sit and read because i used to do both constantly and for the last year it's been a trigger for me.  I'm finally coming back to being able to sit and read again and now i'm having a hard time wading through the crap.  There is a lot of crap out there and I have no patience since i've already lost a year.

Suggestions?  I'm down for it all.