Good books are like honey! by Shelley Hopkins

What a difference the right book can make.  If you loved reading, think back on those old childhood favorites.  I loved Nancy Drew.  She was smart, independent, solved mysteries and traveled to far away places.    I learned a lot from the series, such as what a figurehead was on a ship, histories of other countries, and so much more.  The writers never shied away from big words and I am certain my vocabulary grew while I learned how to escape from handcuffs, chase bad guys and rescue little boys from rivers.  I think the brave young sleuth (as she was often called) was kidnapped, chased by cars and airplanes, or bonked on the head in nearly every story. 

I loved My Side of the Mountain, Flight of the Doves, Pippi Longstocking and countless others.  There are so many wonderful children’s books out there, and quite a few horrible imitations.  A good book doesn’t talk down to the reader.  A good book teaches but never instructs.  A good book is like a friend, it brings out the best in the reader.  There is nothing wrong with scary books, fantasy books, horror books or sad and tragic stories, but there is everything wrong with books written only to manipulate a child.  With all the wonderful children’s books in existence, why buy TV character books created for the sole purpose of promoting a name or taking advantage of a familiar face. 

Good Night Moon, The Little House, stories that engage and light little creative sparks, these are great books. 

A real book is honest; it flows.  It wasn’t written to teach a moral lesson, but and yet it probably does.  Even Nancy Drew, a formula series, taught me to always be brave and do the right thing.

Good books bring joy and richness to the world of the reader.  The story may make us sad, or angry, yet our world is richer from the book.

Honey for a Child’s Heart by Gladys Hunt is a excellent compilation of books for all ages.  The first couple of chapters speak of reasons for good books, and the following is a quote from this book.

            Eric Fromm in his book The Art of Loving speaks of a child’s basic need for milk and honey from his parents.  Milk is the symbol of the care a child receives for his physical needs, for his person.  Honey symbolizes the sweetness of life, that special quality that gives the sparkle within a person.  Fromm says, “Most mothers are capable of giving milk, but only a minority of giving honey, too.”  To give honey, one must love honey and have it to give.  Good books are rich in honey.” Pg. 26.

Today was my reading day at a local urban elementary school.  I have one student, my reading buddy, and we spend one hour together every Monday. The purpose of the reading program is to give the student a mentor that will listen to the student read, will encourage, and will show interest in the student’s progress. Usually we read in the library, but today we could not, so we sat outside under a giant live oak in the front of the school building.  We rested under the branches, by the parking lot, across from the giant chain link fence separating the school from the busy road.  I brought a book that I thought would be fun to look through, and maybe to read a few sections, Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  We read the first couple of pages, about Laura’s little cabin in the big woods, in a place with no neighbors or even other buildings.  All she could see were trees.  All she could hear were trees rustling and the wildlife that lived in the woods.

I asked my young reading buddy what she thought of that.  I could tell she could not even imagine such a thing.  We decided to close our eyes and listen and say what we could hear.  She said, “cars, trucks, wind in trees, birds, airplane.”  She didn’t mention the two ladies yelling at each other in the neighborhood across the street.  I said, “What would it be like with no cars, trucks, or airplanes?”  She seemed puzzled.  This was just too far out of her experience.

I remember hiking in Georgia along the Appalachian Mountains, on a trail called the Wild Cat Mountain trail.  I came to my favorite spot, a large rocky outcrop on top of the mountain with views of nothing but more mountains, I found an entire summer camp of inner city teens sitting on the rock, resting and enjoying the view.  At first I was disappointed to not be alone, but after a few minutes I could tell what a special experience this wilderness hike was for these kids.  I was glad there were there, and am glad. 

Walking blues away update #1

It is now month 3 since I decided to purposefully walk the blues away.  I have been recording the mileage and taking photos along the walks, trying to find something beautiful even in mundane neighborhoods. 

When I walked on New Years Eve, and made these plans, I thought I would be walking and exploring trails all over South Carolina.  I thought I would have more time to devote to the plan.  After all I was a very new real estate agent with no clients.  I was spending time in my business, but not hours and hours.  Of course I wasn’t making money either, so I added a part time job to the mix.  And the clients came.  I am glad, I am grateful, but I am not walking as I wished.

Another problem is boredom.  With less time, I just leash the dog and walk my neighborhood and surrounding areas.  These are nice walks, it is exciting to observe the change in seasons along familiar paths, but I am tired of suburbia.  I am tired of traffic, barking dogs, houses after houses and pavement.  This is not to say I am not enjoying the walks, just that I crave a change in diet.

Since January we have had dreary days, and sunny days, rain and ice, and one ice storm that broke branches and killed plants all over South Carolina.  Now it is early spring.  Bulbs are popping out of the ground, a few early trees are blooming and leaves are beginning to emerge.  On today’s walk I passed many homeowners working in their yards.  Dogs barked at me, windows were open, and the sun was almost hot.

I feel better, and I assume the walking is helping.  Even though I don’t have time to walk far, or as often as I would like, the walking is outside, is exercise, and is somewhat regular.  I wonder how I would be feeling now if I had said, I have no time and can’t walk far anyway, so why bother.  Even a little of a good thing, is a good thing.

I have had the opportunity to walk in the Bahama's while on  a vacation

And to walk in the neighborhood behind my Grandmother's nursing home.  Beauty can be found everywhere.

Silence, love it or hate it

Silence – What does it mean to you, and do you like it?

I am relaxing on my back porch on a Sunday afternoon.  We live in a neighborhood, in a small town close to a larger city.  A robin sits in the live oak shading my porch, and several other songbirds flit about.  I can hear dogs barking, a car engine, the water fountain in my little pond, an airplane, and just a few minutes ago, a train.  I love to sit outside and soak in the warm air and sunshine, but all the noisy intrusions make me sad.

I hear a neighbors wind chime as a breeze passes through.  I like that sound.  I hear a motorcycle on the busier road bordering the neighborhood.  I hear kids playing, another nice sound.  I guess I am picky about what I want to hear.

There is silence, and then there really is silence.  True nature silence is rarely found.  I remember hearing, or not hearing, this type of silence in the Yellowstone National Park, when we were very far from main attractions.  Another place I noticed it was Algonquin Provincial Park in Canada.  There is a feeling of silence, a lack of all but breezes and trees.  Not only are all the intrusive sounds of humanity missing, but the silence is almost a weight, an immensity of nature.  Of course there are sounds, leaves rustling, birds singing, even trees brushing against each other, but somehow it is different, larger.

I love, even crave the silence.  I search for it by walking in the woods, finding a quiet spot at a park or on the beach.  The beach has moments of silence, especially when the waves are small, nearly non-existent.  Other times the waves roar, not silent but yet a peaceful sound.

When my house is empty or when everyone is quietly reading or crafting, the silence is like a peaceful hug. 

There are people that do not like silence; they try to fill their world with sound.  Empty quiet homes must have a TV running in the background, music playing as they read or study.  Quiet moments have to be filled with chatter.

Restaurants have TV’s in every corner.  If you have nothing to say, the electronic chatter will cover the silence.  Yesterday I pumped gas with a TV screen blaring ads on the pump.

As we move and build suburbs out into the country and as airplanes cross every section of sky, silence becomes harder to find, and infinitely more valuable and needed.  There is a healing power in silence.  Silence is golden.