My First Obsession

I was ten years old when I received my first library card. I remember carefully signing my name on the back of the smooth card with the felt-tip sharpie the librarian provided. It was a little loopy at first, but I knew my teacher from third grade would be proud. My fifth-grade teacher, on the other hand, was more focused on memory retention and speed.     

For a while I was hooked on chapter book series with illustrations: Judy Delton’s Pee Wee Scouts, John Peterson’s The Littles, Beverly Cleary’s Ramona, Betty MacDonald’s Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle (still a favorite I re-read today!), Dan Greenburg’s The Zack Files, Phyllis Reynolds Naylor’s Bernie Magruder, and a stand-alone worth mentioning, The Tale of Desperaux by Kate Dicamilo, were some of my absolute favorites. 

One day, while I was busy picking out Junie B. Jones by Barbara Park at our neighborhood library, my mother came to find me with a big smile on her face. I glanced at her quickly before returning to my search for Junie B. Jones Has a Monster Under Her Bed. It was the latest in the series at the time but the librarian assured me they had it. I just couldn’t find it. My mother knelt down to my level and said, “Look what I found”. She produced a book from behind her back. The cover read, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. The gold font was eye-catching and the boy riding a broomstick looked interesting. “I think you’ll like it. I’m going to read it too.” I took her word for it and have been grateful ever since. As my reading level and speed improved, my patience decreased. Though not as great as “the boy who lived” (Rowling), Jenny Nimmo’s Charlie Bone series kept me preoccupied while I awaited the next Harry Potter sequel through the years.

Another series that made my childhood great was A Series of Unfortunate Events by the mysterious Lemony Snicket. I never grew out of the series. It was a close second to Harry Potter in my reading addiction. All these books, with the help of my severely open-minded and encouraging mother, introduced me to the magical world of fiction. If I was having a bad day, I would simply reach for a book from the stack on my nightstand and all my problems would drift away. Though not quite as easy as it was then to ignore my problems, still to this day I consider reading as a great escape.