In reorganizing my bookcases this morning, I came upon a book that practically fell apart in my hands (in spite of the many layers of tape along its spine). Its name is Poems to Read to the Very Young, and I imagine that it was read to me, and by me, when I was once very young.
While it is hard to remember where I put my car keys and sunglasses, I can easily remember poor Jonathan Bing and his ill-fated visit to the king. And my favorite, "five minutes, five minutes more, please!," to be said at bedtime every night as one is being carted off past the older siblings, who get to stay up 'til nine!
These poems clicked. They were fluid and logical and silly all at the same time. And they are as true today as they were a good many years ago.
So, fellow potatoes, take no offense when I say that I hope all your books end up with tape down their spines and dog-eared pages. It means that they were read, and read, and read. And who can ask for more than that?
4 comments:
Diane,
It's especially great to hear about those well-loved books during National Poetry Month.I'm still trying to locate a volume of poems that was read to me when I was young, and I in turn read to my little brothers. I miss the book like an old friend. Thanks for sharing.
My two favorite poems read to me when I was very young were: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, and L'il Orphan Annie-- which scared the dicken's out of me, but I loved it!
Diane, I agree- my wish for all of our books is to have them read and re-read and carried about under arms, in suitcases and backpacks.
Diane,
You're right! A wonderful future for our books is to be dog-eared and well used. I inherited many of my grandparents' rather fragile, but well-loved books and treat them with great care.
I think those are the best-loved books, the ones that are falling apart.
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