Of Meadow Flowers and Butterflies

In which I discuss my growth as a reader

Photo by Marvin Parks on Unsplash

I am in O’ahu doing very important work things. Definitely not sitting on a beach drinking Mai Tai’s with cute little umbrellas in them. Ok, maybe one Mai Tai. Being a Sailor has its occasional perks. When I signed on the dotted line 20+ years ago, the motto was “Join the Navy, See the World!” For a kid from the Midwest, this was a no brainer. A steady paycheck and health insurance sweetened the deal. My nautical adventures will be a tale for another time. For now let’s turn back the clock. Last week we discussed the origins of my literary interests. If you missed that post you can catch up at this link.

In the beginning...

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Summer 1989. Mom and Dad decide that one cross-country move wasn’t enough fun. Let’s do it again in reverse this time. There are seven of us now. Mom, Dad, three boys, two girls. We loaded our lives into a horse trailer and headed east. The return odyssey took us back across Kansas to our ancestral home in the rural northeast of Missouri. Mom got a job teaching there. It was a good opportunity to be close to family. An old farmhouse out in the country became our home. Dad worked the farm for a friend of his.

Missouri could not have been more different than Colorado. Verdant meadows of wild flowers and old growth forests were the home of squirrels, rabbits, and deer. The cacophony of birds was ever present alongside the quiet stillness of butterflies. Our pond was full of fish and frogs. We swam there in the heat of the summer. My brothers and I made our home in these environs.

Like most young boys, we played a lot of sports. Dad would join in every opportunity he had. Our backyard was both a baseball diamond and a football gridiron. An old concrete foundation was a basketball court. The surface was cracked and uneven and we became skilled dribblers there. We idolized athletes such as Ozzie Smith, Michael Jordan, and Bo Jackson. We collected sports cards purchased with money earned mowing yards. It was an idyllic childhood in many ways. I didn’t recognize it for that in the moment but I was truly fortunate.

I had the opportunity to grow close with all four of my grandparents during those years. Each of their personalities was so different and they influenced my life in unique and wonderful ways. After my parents, my grandmother Juanita played the most influential role of any person on my life as a reader and writer.

Upon the foundation laid down by Mom and Dad, Granny built a mighty fortress devoted to literature, poetry, music, and art. A journalist and author, whose home was filled with books, she would speak to me as an adult and talk widely on topics of interest to us both. On her shelves I discovered Hemingway and Melville. She had volumes by St. John of the Cross alongside a photographic essay of the tomb of Tutankhamen. Philosophy, psychology, religion, fiction, history, and more all took pride of place. Her favorite book was Little Women by Louisa May Alcott which she felt was reminiscent of her own childhood. I spent many days sitting in her living room reading and listening to music she would play on a massive cabinet style record player. It was a joyous and informative experience to read alongside her and experience her erudition.

During these years I discovered the fantasy world of Tolkien’s Middle Earth, first through The Hobbit and later The Lord of the Rings. Reading Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card opened my eyes to the wonders of science-fiction. These two genres would occupy much of my energies in the challenging years ahead. It was here that I discovered the ability to escape to a far-off place when the world around me was falling apart.

“Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

Photo by Leo on Unsplash

The fine arts, particularly the written word, are a path down which we can discover the soul of humanity. They are a special means of communicating between creator and consumer. We are allowed a glimpse of another but also of ourselves. Art is a mirror in which we are afforded the opportunity to reflect on the best and worst parts us. What is found there? What do we do with what we find? Do we continue on as we did before? Do we allow ourselves to be changed by the experience?

My challenge to you dear reader is to allow yourself to be changed by the things you read. Expand yourself into new and unknown things. Branch out from the safe and familiar. Read books published in other countries, written in another language, by people from a different culture. Read history and the classics. Read to learn a new skill. Read for fun. Read some poetry. Read to grow.

“I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

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Interested in why you should build a personal library…

Check out Joel’s thoughts over at Miller's Book Review.

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Join the conversation!

I would love to know your thoughts on this topic along with what you are reading that is adding value to your life right now.

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