A Sunday read
Sunday mornings in my house in the 90s meant smudged black fingertips. Dad would hop into our trusty gray Toyota Camry, cruise the mile or so trek to Pic ‘N’ Save and arrive equipped for the day’s reading material.
Ah, the Sunday newspaper, a relic you can depend on headlines about our country’s unfathomable debt, while finding the deal of the week, 2 for 1 on Hidden Valley Ranch.
Dad dropped the dictionary-thick Orange County Register on our plastic-lined dinner table. We’d cut up the cross wrap to open its insides, where dad picked apart the front and sports sections, my sisters would poke through art and features, and I’d devour the funnies. If we felt frisky, we’d grab the scissors and snip along the dotted lines around the Stater Bros ads and file the little clipped rectangles in our coupon accordion. In the end, without fail, I’d skim through the comic section hopeful, yet always disappointed because nearly every joke went way over my head. Dilbert, why didn’t I ever understand your quips?!
As I got older, reading the Sunday paper continued. My sisters left for college and as I got better at reading and learned the significance of current events, dad got more intense about newspaper reading rituals. On Sundays, I felt trapped because Dad gave me an assignment. On a weekend! I had to read 3 articles and report back what I learned.
Growing up, I read the Childcraft encyclopedia set front to back. We went to the library weekly. I read a wide palate of material, from The Babysitter’s Club to National Geographic magazines. It should be no surprise that by the time I left for college, my dad sent me off into adulthood with a literary reminder.
In my dorm room, after my parents helped me unpack and I was itching for them to finally leave me alone, my dad pulled me aside, lowering his voice, hand on my shoulder.
“It’s one thing to have friends,” he said, hoping for a moment of clarity to enter our airspace. “But it’s better to be friends with your books.”
Did my dad actually just tell me to hang out with my books? Stay up late and hang out with them? Did he suggest that these pages would be my safe space when I needed comfort?
For years I joked about these “wise” words from my dad. But, 20 years later, way too late, and well after dad died, I can now say it. Hey dad, I finally got it!
We all need to read more books. I’ve read a bunch this year. These are books I’ve enjoyed reading for myself, and with my kids.
Fave chapter books read aloud to my kids this year
Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin: Simply beautiful. Grace Lin has written several lovely children’s books we’ve enjoyed here including The Ugly Vegetables.
The Magic Faraway Tree collection by Enid Blyton: This is a fun and silly story. It reminds me of Alice in Wonderland but less like a hallucinogenic experience and just good childhood fun. Plus, I want to dress up as The Saucepan Man for Halloween. Also, don’t read Book 4, it’s weird.
The BFG by Roald Dahl: This book is so sweet to read. The latest Steven Spielberg movie does not do it justice at all.
Matilda by Roald Dahl: My daughter and I are currently reading this and can’t wait to see the movie after we are finished with it.
A few personal favorites from 2022
Know My Name by Chanel Miller: I assumed this would be too sad and deep for me but it was a picture of truth, of many layers, and a sad understanding of the experience of a rape victim, well after the abuse. She is an incredible writer. I look forward to reading more of her work when she publishes again. I hope she decides to write children’s books like she mentioned in her 60 Minutes interview.
Educated by Tara Westover: I could not put this book down, with the way she weaves together words, spilling her crazy stories on each page. It’s about her experience growing up as survivalists in Idaho. I didn’t really understand what the term meant but she gives you a crystal clear picture and it’s horrifying and intriguing.
Somebody’s Daughter by Ashley C. Ford: She eloquently illustrates her struggles and beauty in her relationships, with her mom, her incarcerated dad, and loves in her life.
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott: Chanel Miller mentioned this go-to book for writers in her memoir. I have no doubt about picking this one up repeatedly when I need a “friend” in which to commiserate.
Boyfriend!!