Books

Best friends to extraordinary creativity, intellects and imaginations, a well-written book holds infinite potential for influence. A large room filled with them equals priceless treasures far more enduring than all the funds in Bill Gates' bank account, or diamonds in Tiffany's, NYC. Or so says me. How sadly I contemplate the massive numbers of children who are oblivious to the delightful aroma of a new book, the musty scent of an antique one, or the thrill of creating a brilliant bookmark and flipping a favorite volume open to find it a few years later. To the warm fuzzy feeling of a long hot, steaming bath with a sweet romance or hair-raising thriller. Or a summer afternoon spent on swing or hammock, shadowed by massive oak or maple, regaled by some classic that's entertained readers for some multiple centuries, or decades at the least.

If I have my way, my children will not suffer this oblivion. They'll know the aforementioned delights and will hopefully pass them on to their kids as well. The library's becoming a much-beloved destination (since getting cards yesterday we've been there twice) for us this summer. Now we hold the keys to better painting techniques, a deeper understanding of two Native American tribes, fuller knowledge of a few major planets, loads of laughs spurred by zany pictures and silly stories, and richer appreciation of the American Dust Bowl. Now that my post-nap toddler's chattering to her dolls, it's time to unlock another treasure chest. Or two. Or twenty. We'll just see.

Have a happy rainy summer day. Blessings, V