Voices and Images

Chance
-Molly Peacock
may favor obscure brainy aptitudes in you
and a love of the past so blind you would
venture, always securing permission,
into the back library stacks, without food
or water because you have a mission:
to find yourself, in the regulated light,
holding a volume in your hands as you
yourself might like to be held. Mostly your life
will be voices and images. Information. You
may go a long way alone, and travel much
to open a book to renew your touch.

mixed-media collage

I came across Molly Peacock’s poem “Chance” today on poets.org, and the lines, “you have a mission: to find yourself in the regulated light, holding a volume in your hands as you yourself might like to be held”, resonates. Deeply. Some of the biggest “aha” moments of my life have occurred in a public library, sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning into a book. I know just how nerdy that sounds, but I can’t imagine who I’d be now if I hadn’t spent my early years in libraries, or later, if I hadn't chanced upon Judy Chicago’s Dinner Party when I was 28, and then spent the next year in a militant search and devour frenzy reading everything about women’s history, and subsequently, multicultural and world literature.

Anyone who knows me, even in a cursory sort of way, knows I'm book-obsessed. I don't have an exact count of how many books I own, but they populate every room in my house. I can't remember a time when I didn't have a stack of books on the nightstand, or when I wasn't reading a book before falling asleep. As a child I felt compelled to read after the final "lights out" warning, as if iI would miss something vital if I didn't, even if this meant I had to sneak under the covers until the battery of my pin light died. One of my warmest memories from childhood is of sitting in the crook of our family Oak tree reading a book, (I also painted from this location). My mother used to accuse me of “always having my nose in a book.” Not a bad accusation, as accusations go. When I was in the first grade, the librarian at my grade school gave me a special sixth grade pass to check out as many books as I liked. One problem quickly developed with this privilege: once I had a book in my possession, it was nearly impossible to surrender it. I still have difficulty returning library books on time, (librarians of the world, please forgive me!) I suppose it’s a character flaw not borne of carelessness, selfishness, or any of the other “nesses”, I'm just incapable of letting a book go. So, instead of feeling guilty about keeping books longer than allowed, or paying outrageous late fees, or breaking the budget buying books, I head for the bargain tables at chain bookstores, search out finds at used bookstores, vintage and thrift stores. One caveat: I’m always happy to pay full price at independent bookstores; thank you King’s English , Sam Weller’s and Ken Sander's for your spunk and generosity, and kudos for persevering under the shadow of the megaliths.

Books on my night stand:
A Mercy - Toni Morrison
Lighthousekeeping - Jeanette Winterson

I Thought My Father Was God: And Other True Tales from NPR's National Story Project - Paul Aster