Confessions of a Book Sniffer

The End of Normal.  I've just begun reading this book, lended to me by my friend/neighbor.  Her recommendation.  It grabbed me at the first page.  That's a good thing.  I hate it when I have to read several pages -- or worse, a chapter or two -- before I can connect with a book. 

It's Stephanie Madoff Mack's story of her marriage and of her husband's suicide in the wake of the controversial fiasco with her infamous father-n-law/jerk, Bernard Madoff.   An inspired memoir of surviving personal tragedy amid public scandal.

I'm sneaking reads in between hearings in the courtroom, when we have a spare five or ten minutes, or if a hearing cancels, and at night right before I fall asleep.  Reading is the best way for me to unwind, relax and surrender to slumber.  Without a shift to another focus, my mind will just wander from thought to thought, planning this, worrying about that, rethinking, sometimes even fantasizing--well, that's actually kind of fun-- keeping me from letting go and shutting down.  I'm high-strung that way, I guess.

Anyway, I'm excited to get back to a good read.  It's been a while.  Reading is one of my great (and first) loves.  I'm curious to read about her take on that most bizarre and "enormous international Ponzi scheme."

As I reflect back to my days as a young girl, I can remember my two sisters and I waiting anxiously for the weekly visit at our elementary school from the "Bookmobile."  It was a traveling bus/library, and we were thrilled to be able to board the bus and check out our week's limit -- seven books -- devouring them one by one, eagerly depositing them the following week so that we could tackle the following week's quota.

We were secretly competing against each other as well as our peers, our "book reading lists" growing longer and longer as the months wore on.  It frustrated me that I'd never be able to keep up with them, my being the youngest of the three sisters.  They could read much faster than I could, obviously, and they seemed to have a better attention span.  Besides, I'd always stop at a word I didn't know to look up its definition in the dictionary, toss it around in my mind a bit, try it on for size, then resume where I left off, the challenge of broadening my vocabulary ever so fascinating.

My favorite reads were the Nancy Drew mystery series.  I remember Nick, her boyfriend; reflecting back, I think I had a crush on him.  I remember lying in bed on cold, winter Saturday mornings, huddled under a pile of blankets, munching on Poptarts and reading Nancy Drew.

Great memories.  Reading was a huge part of my childhood.   I'm a book sniffer.  I remember loving the smell of books, walking into a library and getting high off that seductive scent of ink and glue, savoring that distinguishing aroma.  And I remember my little blue library card with MY NAME typed on it.  Now that was a big deal, my very own ID card of sorts, signifying ME as an official book lover.  Reading was a cherished escape for me, allowing me to become someone else in another place and time, reliving the stories of fictional and non-fictional characters, traveling the world and meeting interesting people, exposing me to ideas and concepts and ideologies that certainly must have helped shape and determine my path.  I'm grateful for that.

“I love the smell of book ink in the morning.”  

~ Umberto Eco

There's something to be said about being a child of a low-income family, not having the resources to go out and do, see, spend money and such like many other kids my age those many years ago.  We had to get creative with our sources of entertainment.  And standing in line, awaiting the arrival of the Bookmobile, although I didn't know it at the time, was the nexus of my love affair with reading and poetry and journalism and all things having to do with WORDS.

It paid off.  Fast-forward to my graduation from college with a degree in court reporting.  My career, as a court reporter -- it's perfect for me, and I'm blessed to love what I do for a living.

And it's likely those weekly trips to the Bookmobile helped pave the way.