Moving a little bit of paradise A STORY WORTH TELLING
“I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.”
— Jorge Luis Borges
Moving a home library from one end of the house to the other is not exactly what I would call paradise.
Ask me how I know that.
Every load hauled down the hall last week met with many diversions including pauses to peruse this book, that book and “oh, look at this.”
Like the one titled “Billy Whiskers.” It was a small, fragile book held together by a brown paper cover, the likes of which we folded and wrapped around textbooks eons ago. Itwasmarked by rips, missing corners and a Red Goose Shoes logo advertising “W.L. Garrett & Son, Pittsburg, Texas, Phone 216. Where the price is the thing.”
The cover also bears my father’s name, printed in pencil.
The 160-page illustrated children’s story of a goat and his escapades shows a publication date of 1902 by the Saalfield Publishing Co. It was just one of several among my father’s childhood books. My love of books comes honestly. Mom was an avid reader, but I don’t recall catching Dad reading anything not related to one of his hobbies, such as coin collecting. Evidence remains, however, that he was exposed to them as a child. And my grandmother kept all the books.
My appreciation for books is more than the immersive experience of simple reading, more than the gateway to knowledge, understanding and escape that books offer. Even more than living a thousand lives lost among the pages.
Books are a passion. They offer quiet moments in the comfort of holding a piece of the past, turning physical pages and the aroma of the paper.
Which is why library closings or their downsizing into primarily digital download centers in recent years have been sad to see.
Hope persists, however. Recent research reveals several strong positive correlations between hard-copy books and improved learning outcomes. These include increased comprehension, retention and deep processing. The positive data points to print materials generally surpassing digital screens for focused, long-term learning; sometimes six to eight times better.
How could we ever do without books?
They’ve had an impact on our culture, our philosophies and our vocabulary.
How many times have you heard someone say “book learning,” “bookworm,” “book of life,” “book of love” or the “Good Book”?
My grandmother, whose book learning ended after the seventh grade, would declare, “Can’t judge a book by its cover,” “His life is like an open book” and “You read him like a book.”
I’m often quick to jokingly say, “You could write a book about that” indicating one’s display of knowledge on a particular topic.
Then there is “do it by the book,” “hit the books” and “that’s one for the books”.
My home library was launched while hitting the books in college. But for the first time, I’m just now cataloging them using a neat online tool aptly named “LibraryThing.”
I recommend it as it meets my two main criteria: free and easy to use.
When finished (cataloging, not accumulating), it’s looking like the final tally could pass a little more than a thousand volumes of history, journalism and writing, business, Biblical reference, automotive, aviation, music, fiction and other assorted smaller categories.
More is fun, but collections of just 20 to 80 books in the home have been recognized to boost literacy and long-term educational outcomes, helping children not only perform well in school but also foster a love of reading and learning.
In one case cited, Justin Minkel, 2007 Arkansas Teacher of the Year and 2011 National Boardcertified elementary teacher in northwest Arkansas, wrote about ensuring each of his students received 40 books to take home.
Minkel found home libraries not only heightened academic success but “also had a tremendous impact on each child’s love of reading …(igniting) that same love of books in their parents, siblings, cousins, and friends.”
I remember my daughter, Robin, was “ignited” by our home library some years ago. She and my son, Lee, were pitching in to pack for our move to the Hill Country when she had a relevant question for me.
Lugging a box of books out of the house, she asked, “Dad, why can’t you collect something like stamps or butterf lies?”
“Look at it this way,” I reminded her. “You’re helping move a little bit of paradise.”
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com.
