Musing Mondays (Apr. 14)

Musing Mondays asks you to muse about one of the following each week…

• Describe one of your reading habits.
• Tell us what book(s) you recently bought for yourself or someone else, and why you chose that/those book(s).
• What book are you currently desperate to get your hands on? Tell us about it! 
• Tell us what you’re reading right now — what you think of it, so far; why you chose it; what you are (or, aren’t) enjoying it.
• Do you have a bookish rant? Something about books or reading (or the industry) that gets your ire up? Share it with us!
• Instead of the above questions, maybe you just want to ramble on about something else pertaining to books — let’s hear it, then!

Today I am just going to talk about childhood and my books.  A little sentimental for some reason so I thought it appropriate.

When I was small I was fascinated that people could actually read words and there was meaning.  I remember, quite distinctly, sitting on the sofa (it was a brown tweed, modern affair with one arm) next to my mother as she read the newspaper and asking her what it felt like to be able to read.  It was a skill I longed for because instinctively I knew that if I could read I could know anything I wanted to know.

There was a neighborhood toy store by the name of Ann and Tom Brown.  It was located several blocks from my house, still within walking distance although it was a long walk, and we visited there often.  It was a wonderful toy store with all manner of things.  I remember being completely in awe of the marionettes and their assortment of Vogue dolls.  I also remember their novelty items like these big balls of crepe paper which, upon being unwound, were found to contain small trinkets and tokens.  Great fun.  

I remember one day, in particular that my mother and I were there.  We went to buy a book.  My mother decided I was old enough for a chapter book that we would read together.  I hadn't learned to read yet so I must have been about four.  The goal was, since naps had ceased, to use the book for rest time.  We chose The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Apparently the Oz books were her favorites growing up. I remember her reading the book to me in the afternoon and I could just picture the characters and the scenery.  It was a good time and something I tried to repeat with my own children--they were great fans of the Bunnicula books.

Now I have the privilege of caring for my youngest grandchild -- the loveable Bean.  Now that nap times are quickly becoming a thing of the past but rest is still needed, I decided to return to the scheme my mother began with me.  Tomorrow we will start reading The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. 

I went to B&N a couple of days ago and purchased a leather bound, hard back copy for her personal library.

 B&N has a lovely collection of classics for children, reprints of older editions and I think it would make a lovely series to collect.  When we get finished with Oz, we might move on to Peter Pan or Alice in Wonderland although I get a bit itchy with Alice long around Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum time.  

So, tomorrow we will be taking flight on a cyclone and visiting Munchkinland and getting to know all the characters.  I am anxious to see how Bean does -- if she has the patience to stay with it or if her 3-year-oldness takes over.  At any rate, I am sure I will enjoy it.