Written by Keira, #9
Our library trips have always consisted of eagerly moving through aisles of books, cooing over novels with my 14-year-old sister, Kathleen, and filling up countless bags. I remember having to drag stools around the library because I was too little to reach the good books on the top shelves.
“Here, Keira, you’ll love this!” she says as she hands me a book from her childhood and proceeds to plop herself down in the middle of the aisle to start reading her own choice, completely oblivious to anyone around her.
And so goes our trips to our local library.
This morning, my brother and I spent an hour at our public library. It was a blast hunting down books, but I couldn’t help but notice two brothers, who upon entering, bee-lined for the movie section. Their mom attempted to lure them out with the words “You know, there’re books over there”, she said, pointing to a shelf. The boys responded with “Yeah, we know.”
The mom and the librarian were joking about how kids should have to get through a wall of books to get the movies.
Now, no insult to movies. I love watching movies with my siblings. But I hate to hear kids who have watched Harry Potter without even glancing at the books. And the two boys who stayed within the movie section were missing out on the rows and rows of books. They missed so many trips to forests and castles and journeys back into history. They missed all the emotions and depth and I found the whole thing simply sad.
When I was reading Harry Potter, I would often look forward to watching the movie, though I’d been warned that the adaptation wouldn’t be as good as the book. Still, we would happily settle in with blankets for a movie night. Always with Daddy. Always with popcorn. A very steady tradition.
Probably one of my mom’s smartest decisions was narrowing down me and my brother’s movie time to 3 times a week, one movie each. Again, I thoroughly enjoy movies. It was always a choose-wisely moment. Now, instead, we fill most of our afternoons playing with each other and reading.
So thanks, Mom, Dad and Kathleen for making sure books had such an influence on me.
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Copyright 2017 tales from my kitchen table