Bru's Musings

I think I'm a freak.

Ten years from now, when people ask me where I got my doctorate from, I'll have to tell them Books-A-Million. At the cafe, to be precise. I can't study anywhere else. If I'm at home, the temptation to clean or nap or work in my yard is too great. If I go to the library, I get sleepy (funny, it had that effect on me when I was in college the first time around....I used to curl up in a chair under the staircase and nap. That explains why I was such a lousy student and why I am such a wise advisor). And I sure as heck can't get anything done at the office....too many "I'm sorry to bother you but..." and "I know you're not really here, but...". So for now, I hibernate at my local BAM cafe, where the kids behind the counter have begun to recognize me and I can focus with the drone of coffee machines, talking and music in the background.

I love bookstores, anyway. I just love books. Sometimes, when I've been studying all day and I take a break and wander the aisles, I imagine the ecstasy of being lost in here, living here among the books, spending day after day reading everything on the shelves. There's so much knowledge here, so many stories to read. Reading has always been a part of me.....I have my mother to thank for that. She sometimes tells of grocery shopping when I was a girl, and how she would always buy me a bag of Tootsie Pops and a Little Golden Book. And I remember her dropping me off at the library in later years to peruse the stacks.....later, when I was allowed to ride my bike downtown, the library was a favorite stop, after the drugstore stop to read TigerBeat and look at makeup, and a stop at the dimestore to see what new treasures lined their shelves. Reading allows me to live in other worlds, becoming a part of fictional lives and places, having daring adventures and seeing through the eyes of others.

I remember, too, devouring my mother's collection of Readers Digests. My father gave her a subscription in the 60's....'68 or '69, I think, and I believe I have the original book with his inscription to her packed away somewhere. She kept the subscription for many years and when she finally decided to cancel, it was difficult.

I even love children's books...the illustrations, particularly. My son and I spent countless hours reading when he was younger. I remember reading The Little Engine Who Could (I think that's the name) when I was so hoarse with laryngitis that I could barely do more than whisper. I do miss that part of our time together when he was little. We still occasionally read together, but truthfully, it just isn't the same.

So though she'll never see these words, I have to thank you Mom, for passing on your love of books. And when someone asks where I got my degree, I will be more than happy to tell them, "Books-A-Million".