Mom and Dad could read; they chose not to. They would say there was too much activity in their daily lives to allow for brief moments of pleasure lost in a book; I can’t dispute their conclusion. Sometimes all you can do is get by. Because my parents didn’t foster an environment for books, I too avoided reading; Cliff Notes were my secret to success in high school. In fact, I don’t recall reading a book without a syllabus requiring it until after college. It was a moment in my life I will never forget.
I was with a large group of friends who ended up at a local bookstore. They appeared to know precisely where to direct their attention; I didn’t have a clue where to spend my time. When you are in a place you aren’t familiar with, you seek solace. I wandered to the sports section; sports had grounded everything in my life. Maybe, I thought, I would enjoy gazing at books related to my only love.
Almost immediately I noticed a book that drew my attention; it was the biography of a famous football coach. Without considering that I had never read a book for fun, I bought it. I finished the book in three days; I was hooked.
Without sounding too hyperbolic, those three days changed my life. My first exposure to reading for pleasure led me to seek knowledge through the stories told by brilliant authors. It opened a world to me that, I am certain, I would never have found. Relative isolation makes it easy for people to believe the world consists only of what they know, can feel, touch and breathe. Diversity of thought, cultures, landscapes and history was as remote to me as the surface of the moon. Had I not found passion for a good book, I would have missed what existed beyond my cocoon.
But fortunately, my fate was different. One book led to dozens and then hundreds. I don’t know how many books I have read; it doesn’t matter. What I know is those books, with their vivid descriptions and my imagination, have taken me to places I never conceived of.
I have sat on a rooftop in Marrakech and watched the sunset bounce off the Atlas Mountains, ridden a train from Boston to Patagonia and felt the pain of apartheid in an ignored township in South Africa. Books have taken me inside the struggle for freedom in Sierra Leone and the tragic ethnic cleansing in Bosnia.
Books have brought me to tears and laughter. On a train ride from New York to Boston, I drank wine and immersed myself in the Bridges of Madison County. The Acela offers no romance, but on this night, I found myself lost in amore.
My reading has traced the history of our country through the eyes of presidential biographers; I have read about each president. You get a unique view of our past by following the leaders who defined our course.
Brilliant writers don’t just tell a story; they place you in the story as though you are living what you are reading. Books have placed me in the Amazon jungle; on top of the Andes Mountains with Nando Parrado, one of the few survivors of a terrible plane crash; and on Jekyll Island, Georgia, with the wealthiest Americans in the early nineteen century.
I have felt the pain of the civil rights movement and the joy of achievement when the world becomes a better place.
Learning about great men and women who have left their mark on the world has enriched my life. Nothing has taught me more than the insight I have gained from reading about how impactful people lived their lives. Except for all I have learned about those whose legacy is a disgrace. You can learn a lot from the dark side of history.
Books have become my source of growth, solitude, peace and reflection. I shudder to think what life would be like without them. Books have enriched my life. I wish more people would find the blessing of a good book.
Read BookTrib’s review of Michael’s book, Lost in the Holler