History in Books

I remember hovering over "Dear Zoo", lifting the worn flaps, hissing for the snake, my dad's voice grumpy for the camel.  The puppy at the end was the happiest picture in my small world, the close second was the "Dolly Dolphin" picture in the Go Fish game I played.  I remember sitting on the stairs crying over the Go Fish game because my dad wouldn't let me win one day.  But that doesn't really have anything to do with the worn, dog eared picture book that henceforth stereotyped all zoo animals in its narrow parameters.

When I was very young, perhaps seven or eight, my second cousin from England came to stay.  She wore make-up; at first I thought she was a witch.... but then I decided I loved her.  I remember her standing in the archway between the living room and kitchen in our house, and saying "The best book I ever read was the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  You should read it too."  So I did, and it was that book that taught me to long for another world.  I fell in love with Puddleglum, I wanted my God to be a Lion.  It was a deep magic from that book that made me forever morally Christian, even if it is my destiny to be devoutly atheistic. 

It was this book that made me want to be a writer.  I was so frustrated with the ending, and Aslan's promise of a "Final Chapter" that never came that I tried to craft my own.  I decided that for the rest of my life I'd devout my existence to writing this "Chapter".  It lasted for about three pages.

Doctor Dolittle, still young.  Three series of books happened for me at once, really.  Doctor Doolittle, the library at school, the yellow pages, the musty smell of age.  Naturalist, Polynesia, I had a parrot like her, or at least I told myself she was like that parrot, she sat on my shoulder and talked in my ear.  She became part of my reality.  She, and the Wizard of Oz.  Those books were from the school library too, they were cloth bound.  I traced all the pictures.  If Puddleglum was my first crush, the Scarecrow was my second.  And there I was, three Wizard of Oz books on my desk in 5th grade, and I wanted to tell everyone how great they were but I ended up hiding behind them as I was taunted.  I hated the movie.  The scarecrow was wiser in the books.

"Off to the Faraway tree, Jo, Bessie and Me."

The year after that was the year I lost time.  Every class period for six months, the class would do a review book after reading time for about half an hour a day.  I just read, probably under my desk.  the teacher didn't notice.  I didn't notice.  When he realized I wasn't turning in my reviews (finally) I was lost and confused and in tears.  I couldn't remember that slice of time where the reality of the books finished and the reality of math began.  That was the year of the Farthing Wood, the day when we escaped the forest with fox leading that was being cut down and i traveled with badger all the way and mole and it was cold sometimes but everyone ended up safe and we could hear whistler up in the sky and it was dappled sunlight and clear.