The Books That Formed Me

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I’ve been listening to Ann Hood’s audiobook MorningStar about the books that influenced her, and I’m reminding of the books that most influenced me, by the time I was in the third grade, it was obvious that though I was dyslexic, that I struggled with some things, reading was not one of them. I read The Pinballs as a little girl, about a family who took in foster children, a book that I probably still have somewhere dog eared from over three decades of wear, and then Nonna would take me to Book Sales, telling me I could feel up as many bags as I wanted with her encouragement I read thick biographies of Martin Luther King Junior, learning at an early the power of love and hate. In fourth grade I loved The Doll House Murders, by Middle School I learned of Helen Keller, spent as much time in the library as possible, getting lost in A Wrinkle in Time! In High School my backpack was filled to the brim with books, I Never Promised You A Rose Garden, dealing with mental illness, A Night Without Stars, Baby Alicia is Dying, And as many books by Lurlene McDaniel. I read poetry by Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson! By Sophmore year I had a teacher who seemed determined to break anyone she could, calling someone stupid because they mispronounced a word on the Iliad, calling students liars as they brought in doctors notes, calling us Retards! This women had no business teaching yet here she was! The year before my freshmen year, I had Mrs Quinn, she encouraged me, I had started writing stories, and novels on colored lines paper, she encouraged me to show them to her, and then she’d ask for my permission to submit them. I wrote an article for the school paper that year too, something about kids with disabilities even then I knew the stories I was going to tell... My Junior Year I wrote poetry, took U.S History, and English! I had tried French but was never was good at it. My Senior Year was great, a new school brought new friends, a blossoming Faith, I wrote, I learned ASL, I loved all my teachers. I worked at the Elementary School, I volunteered at a youth center. I discovered the first book I remember disliking aside from the Iliad and that had more to do with that heartless teacher than anything else. The book was Adolph Huxley’s A Brave New World, I’m still not a fan. By College I was reading the Diary of Anais Nin, diary by diary, blushing at some of what I read. I read Joni, and A Step Further, and later Joni Eacerson Tads would Send me a copy of Heaven Your Real Home. A book she signed with pen between her teeth because in 1967 a dive would change her life forever. I read, and reread Anne of Avonlea, Emily Of NewMoon, Robin’s Book, remembering so clearly how I felt reading as I knew that this girl would die of Cystic Fibrosis. She would die the summer she was twenty one! I read older books by Harriet May Savitz, The Lion Hearted, Run Don’t Walk, Fly Wheels Fly, I read Charles Dickens, and Emily Dickinson, books opened up on my bed. I read more intense biographies on Helen Keller, I read Tom Sawyer, and Izzy Wizzy Willy Nilly. I took a memoir writing class, a Bible Litt Class, I struggled through Math classes, but listened through history classes! I filled notebooks and journals! When I was sixteen I took care of a girl half my age while her Mom ran an errand because I was the only one she trusted with her daughter. I took her to Karokee and let her enjoy being a kid! At eight she had a voice that sounded so adult. She had a heart condition, I learned the words fatal, and knew what she meant when she talked about needing a heart transplant. My heart broke in two! I was given my first laptop from Neal, who would be murdered only months later! A laptop at the time would have been like gold. “I heard you are going to be a writer, you’re going to need this he said. I just upgraded for the business. Strangely that computer looked new... I would stand on a rainy porch one rainy February morning as I read of the Murder of Neal and his twelve year old son Branden were murdered in their home, the reality struck me hard, this was real, people you know got murdered, even twelve year old Neal, the little boy who was reading before he was three... I wrote to make sense of things, though even now I know that does not work, and I read to escape, Poetry, C.S Lewis, I learned of a Christian Author and playwright Jillian Ryan, I listened to all she endured and how Jesus saved her. I read, and reread Palomino, I read Granny Dan! I read about Columbine, She Said Yes, and learned of Missy’s Carroll! I wrote poetry, thousands of poems, some that will never see the light of day lol! I took Creative Writing with Meryl Books a few years after Neal and Brenden’s Murder, she encouraged me to tell the story I wrote and rewrote Murder in Hercules and a Poem called Memories of Home. I wrote papers on how the education of the disabled had changed, I wrote papers on Louisa May Alcott! I sat on benches next to the creek, creating poetry between classes, munching on apples, or yogurt, or a Sandwich filled with Meat, Cheese, Lettuce and Sprouts. I watched as my friends two year old son played and read him Cat in the Hat, Green Eggs and Ham, I read the Junie B Jone’s Book With Amber! I read and reread Writing Down the Bones! Several copies of the book later it is still one I turn to often. I discovered Tricia Goyer, Ted Deeker, Lis Wiehl.