Letter to my children: Why Books are Amazing

Dearest Beloveds,

You two are growing up surrounded by books, words, dictionaries, library visits, grammar corrections first thing in the morning,* visits to the Atlas to look at Madagascar and talk about lemurs, and visits to Dadda’s Anatomy textbooks when your Momma wants to show you where the AV node is to talk about the Sun in your body. Your Momma and Dadda feel truly blessed that we are able to give this to you. Your Dadda, ask him, and your Momma because I have loved books my whole life.

Books to me are adventures that can take you away into worlds never contemplated or imagined. Stories can teach about other’s life and experiences. Stories can expand and explode. Stories can make you cry, laugh, rage, fall in love, despair, affront, entertain, inspire, motivate, expound, and terrify.

Writing down stories is relatively new part of human history - but humans have always had stories that teach us, console us, engage us, connect us - stories are your birth rite as a member of the human tribe.

And they can be so much fun!

For example, I am currently reading to you RedWall by Brian Jacques. Not sure how I missed this one first go around, but it came highly recommended. A book recommendation by someone you trust can be important because sometimes stories can take a while to get going.

It is funny, because as I write this I am saying to myself, Corinna, the action becomes apparent only on page 20 - that is not very far at all.

So this right here, my dears, is an example of why it is so wonderful to be able to read to yourself. 20 pages when you are reading to yourself can go very quickly. 20 pages when you are reading aloud can take, well, longer.

So I am recording myself reading aloud to you so that we can read the story together via technological wizardry. The first two chapters were sweet - but there wasn’t a lot of plot development - more of what I would call setting the stage or in literary vernacular, the setup.

This morning I was talking to your Dadda as he was driving to work. He is in the car driving across the Hudson, I am in my bed in my Princess Tower on the East River. “What did the kids think of the first installment of the book?”

“I asked them, and they seemed interested. Not super excited or that they hated it. They want you to continue.”

“Okay, I will read more now and then call them at breakfast.”

As expected the set up of the first two chapters led to serious plot development in the next two chapters. It also led to this Facetime conversation this morning over your breakfast.

“I read more of the book today and uploaded it to your Momma card. I really like the vocabulary in these books. So many new good words.”

You two chewed your eggs and toast prepared with such devotion and enthusiasm by Mimi - and looked at me.

“For example, there was a word that the author used that I don’t remember learning until I was in college, maybe? Legerdemain. It is French. “Main” means hand. Maybe “leger’ means sleight? Like sleight of hand?”**

Two blank heads gaze at me from the phone.

“Sleight of hand is a type of magic where they put coins into your ear and pull it out of your nose. Or out of your eyeball.”

This is beyond ridiculous apparently, both of you crack up. Bean sputters, “What?! Momma, out of your ear?”

“Yup! It is pretty fun. Pulling rabbits out of a hat, juggling, all of that good stuff.”

Dragon pipes up, “Like pulling a flower out of my eyeball! Like pulling a spoon out of my head! Like pulling a turtle out of my nose!”

We all laugh.

Books are amazing.

* Such as, “Morning beloveds, how did you sleep?”

“Good.”

“Me too.”

“You slept well, not good. Well is an adverb that modifies the verb to sleep. Good is an adjective, it goes with nouns. You could say you had a good rest, but you slept well.”

Poor beloveds, I know, your Momma is relentless.

** Legerdemain is literally, “light of hand,” pretty close.