Summer time and the reading is easy…..
As some of you know, before I started THE VAULT, my career was in education, as a teacher, teacher educator and a curriculum developer. A few years before my retirement, my team and I were meeting to plan a series of sessions for elementary teachers on the power of reading. At some point in our deliberations, one of the team suggested that we open a blog where teachers could share their earliest memories of becoming a reader. Each of us decided to kick it off by sharing our own story.
So it was that I tapped into a number of personal narratives, secreted away within, that were just waiting to be re-visited …….
I was a girl not yet ten, granted the intoxicating privilege of being allowed to ride my bicycle without parental supervision to visit friends and to go to the community swimming pool and library.
My home had always been filled with books. Many of the books had been loved by my parents when they were children themselves and they had kept them to share with their own offspring. I had my own books too, as did my younger sister and brother. Many of my books had been Christmas or birthday gifts, since they needed to be ordered through a catalogue. There were no real bookstores in our tiny suburban community, nor in my grandparents town of Huntingdon, Quebec. As might be guessed, I had a few horse stories that I adored and that were on permanent loan to me from my parents, whose books they had originally been: The Red Pony (Steinbeck), My Friend Flicka and a companion volume about Flicka’s son, Thunderhead (O’Hara), Black Beauty (Sewell) and Smoky (by Quebec writer, Will James). There were also a few brand-new books : An Album of Horses (Marguerite Henry), as well as Kentucky Derby Winner (Isabel McLennan McMeekin) and Strawberry Roan (Don Lang), part of the Grosset & Dunlap NY Famous Horses Series.
I remember my first visit to the old Pointe Claire library vividly. It was early autumn and the bike ride had been invigorating. My best friend and I arrived rosy-cheeked and excited. We had money to buy a library card in our pockets and knew that an adventure lay just ahead, inside the diminutive cottage skirted by a red-gold carpet of fallen leaves.
“Oh…” Susan whispered. “It’s only a little bigger than a doll-house…” (By which she meant the child-sized play houses we both longed to have.)
I was rather relieved, since I had imagined a place of long, book-lined rows that went on and on like a labyrinth. Small was good, too, because it was less overwhelming in terms of locating a book that I might want to read.
Up the concrete steps we walked, swinging our book bags confidently. The little door was white and weathered, with a glass fan-lite we were too short to reach. Of course, it squeaked as we pushed it open.
It was rather dark inside, but it was a good dark as opposed to the scary kind — the kind of silvery light that promises the discovery of treasure. And a treasure it was. The smell of books enveloped us and through the dim light, courtesy of one tiny window, I made out silhouettes of shelves. They stood there like kindly soldiers, heavy with books of all shapes and size.
But that smell of books …. a gentle, musky, organic perfume suggesting warmth and comfort. All these years later, when I am in another library or used book store and I smell that same scent, I am immediately taken back to this moment in time. The moment I learned that libraries were welcoming spaces filled with possibilities.
Having arrived, our immediate concern was to determine if we were alone. Surely there was, at the very least, a librarian? We stood still before the half-dozen bookshelves and listened. A fan was whirring away somewhere, pushing around book-breath and we could just discern the soft padding of feet, coming toward us. Susan giggled nervously.
Then she appeared, emerging from the wispy shadows in a single burst, as though she had been shot out of a cannon. As tiny as the building itself, she was an older lady with steel-grey hair plaited into a thick braid that was wound into a nest and pinned high on the back of her head. Teardrop-shaped glasses arched on the end of her nose. Her eyes were as green as emeralds.
“Hello, girls!” she chimed, smiling warmly at us. “First time here? Let me show you how we’re organized ….” And she did a slow pirouette, leading us away with a pale beckoning hand.
There were well-trodden carpets between the shelves and little stools where people could sit and short, rickety ladders for climbing up to get a book. The books were arranged alphabetically, she explained, within subject categories. Each book had a number on its spine and on the inside back cover there was a pocket. That was for the book’s library card that would carry the date on which it had to be returned. Books could be kept for 4 weeks.
The world of books and book people has always been a culture all its own, and our guide lovingly introduced us to it. It was clear that she belonged among books and loved each and every one of them in her crowded kingdom. You could tell by the way she extricated a book, sliding it out in one, smooth sweep, by the way she cradled it in her hands and by the careful manner in which she turned the pages, holding them lightly at the top corner and then turning, very slowly.
Next, we were led to a broad desk and issued our individual library card. As she printed out our names, addresses and telephone numbers at the top of each pale card, the librarian asked each of us about our reading interests. She spoke to us reader-to-reader, as though we were as grown-up as she was. We were very impressed. We hadn’t yet learned that when a reader talks to another reader, things like age don’t really matter.
Then we were released to select the books we wanted to borrow. We headed for the children’s-young adult section and I squatted down in front of about two rows of horse books, all wrapped in a protective layer of mylar and just waiting to be chosen. I was in horsey heaven. But it was also a little overwhelming. After all, the library ran absolutely contrary to reading in my Grade 3 classroom, where the teacher picked the books and decided what was important or interesting about them without ever consulting us. The library was more like home, where I knew that I could read or reread what I wanted to read whenever I felt like reading. But my books at home were like old friends, whereas the library books seemed more like total strangers. After I had looked at the first three or four books, things improved. I began to get comfortable with the idea of exercising choice. Still…there was the matter of deciding which book(s) to take.
The librarian returned at some point and asked how we were getting on. I managed a murmur, Susan blurted out, “There are just too many books!”
This resulted in immediate action, first to help Susan — who, unlike me, really was in a pickle because she couldn’t think what she might want to read. I knew that I wanted to read every book about horses there. Once Susan had chosen two or three books, the librarian moved on to me.
“Well,” she said, ” I see you’re looking at C. W. Anderson. Have you read any of his books? No? Well, he’s very good and I think you would really enjoy this book you’ve already selected. That’s how I do it. I read one book by an author and if I like it, I read more by him or her.”
The book I was holding was Anderson’s Salute.
I may have taken other books too that day. I really don’t remember. But the librarian did tell me that this was a story about someone else who just adored horses, by a writer who also illustrated his books with beautiful drawings.
So it was that I was introduced to C.W. Anderson, discovering that someone else, besides my Grandpa, knew about Man O’ War. I read Salute as though it were a religious tome, savouring each line and studying each drawing as I learned about the Saratoga Cup and Man O’ War’s son, War Admiral. Best of all was Peter, the young protagonist, who seemed to be just like me. Childhood is a time of imagining possibilities and I shared many hopes and dreams with young Peter.
I really didn’t want to take Salute back to the library. But return it I did, riding extra slowly up the street to the little square building. The librarian took the book from me tenderly and then flipped through her card index. “You know,” she explained, “you can renew this book if you’d like to keep it longer because no-one else has asked for it.” Be still my heart. I nodded giddily.
“But wait,” she continued, “I have other Anderson books you might like. And you can choose a few others as well.”
I sat on a tiny wooden stool in the horse section, lost in CW’s world, for well over an hour. Each book was more inviting than the one before it. There were children like me who loved horses and stories about famous horses. And each book was filled with CW’s drawings that I could lose myself in for hours at a time.
It was agonizing to choose only three of his books, but eventually I made up my mind:
So it was that a love affair began between CW, me and with my mentor at Pointe Claire library. At one point, the librarian explained how CW made the lithographs that illustrated all of his books. I remember thinking he must be very brave to re-do a perfect drawing on stone. Which prompted us to look together at a book on lithography. And this is how becoming a reader goes: it’s like following a footpath to an unknown destination. Sometimes there are forks in the path — times where a book or a story offers you other subjects that you want to know more about. Most serious readers I know behave this way, meandering from one author to another and following their instincts as they go.
That same year, for Christmas, I received CW’s A Filly For Joan at Christmas — the CW story I loved most of all. It was an irresistible blend of narrative and horse racing history. This is where I first learned about Stymie, “the people’s horse,” provoking still another talk with Grandpa who, as it turned out, was a huge Stymie fan. A Filly For Joan is part of my library almost 5 decades later, my name neatly printed on the inside cover. And I still take down A Filly For Joan and read bits of it, luxuriating in the drawings that I poured over as a girl and the dreams I dreamed within its pages. Like many of the best-loved books of our youth, A Filly For Joan is a conduit back through time in my personal life-story.
I also took out other books by Marguerite Henry, whose Album Of Horses I treasured. My most-loved Henry stories were Misty of Chincoteague, King Of The Wind, Born To Trot, Black Gold and Gaudenzia, Pride Of The Palio.
I can’t say that I always loved Henry’s books. The narrative wasn’t always appealing to a reader of my age and I do remember finding many of her books a little too saccharine-sweet for my taste. But I adored King of the Wind and it engendered a lifelong interest in the founding sires of the thoroughbred, about which they are very few books, even today.
Close on Henry’s heels came Walter Farley and his Black Stallion. Right from the first page of the very first novel, I was his. As the story developed I just knew that this was one adventure I would always hold close to my heart. And in many ways, the appeal of the first novel in the series is based on its nod to the universality of the hero myth — separation from family, trials and obstacles and the courage that must be funded to triumph. All that and the absolutely compelling relationship between a wild stallion and a young boy. Children are entranced by stories of powerful children, partly because as “little people” they are more or less helpless in overcoming the authority of adults. So it was a no-brainer that I would be enthralled.
In fact, so enthused was I with Farley that, at the librarian’s suggestion, I wrote him a letter to say how much I loved The Black and his ongoing adventures and offspring. A few months went by, and then an envelope arrived with the distinctive logo of the Black Stallion in one corner. My mother presented it to me ceremoniously.
Inside was a letter from Walter Farley on Black Stallion stationary. It began like this:
” Dear Abigail,
I wish it were possible for me to meet you and all the other boys and girls who take the time to write about The Black Stallion and The Island Stallion Books. I’m sure we all have a lot in common, our love of horses. And I can’t help recalling, too, how many letters I wrote at your age to people interested in horses — all in the hope of someday having my own! Luckily, I got mine, and I hope the same thing will happen to you.”
and concluded:
“… Now I’ll get back to work while looking over the typewriter at some horses grazing in the field. Nothing could provide better inspiration! There’s an Arabian filly close by, beautiful to see as well as to ride. Her name is ‘Tina’ and she’s two years-old,now being schooled by a twelve year-old. Again, thanks so much for writing.”
The letter had 4 typed paragraphs, but there, at the end, was Walter Farley’s signature! By the time I’d finished reading, I had learned another invaluable lesson: writing matters because it does important things in the world.
The last Farley book I read was his captivating story about Man O’ War. I can close my eyes and repeat from memory the opening lines. This was another of my “Christmas books” and it played an enormous role in peaking my curiosity about Man O’ War…..and that path led to a larger body of research that I did as an adult, having reclaimed my passion for horses and the thoroughbred, in particular. (I remain today somewhat critical of Farley’s authorial choices, since neither John Buckner nor Will Harbut appear in the narrative and they were certainly the two people who meant the very most to Big Red. But I also know that fiction is never intended to be factual, even when a book is a historical fiction — and Farley’s Man O’ War is a beautifully-told tribute to an American legend that is accessible to older children.)
Of course, all of these (modest) book adventures as a girl engendered the reader I became. I am one of those people who regard my books as part of the decor of my life, even as I bemoan their numbers — or the book shelves that have shattered under their weight. I belong to the wrong generation to ever give them up for a Kindle. I love their smell, turning their pages, getting lost in their narratives and rememorying how each one came into my life and what it meant to me at the time. My books frame chapters in a life.
But the “horse books” of my youth came with a special promise and I doubt that there would be THE VAULT had they never existed. I would also never have learned how to write without them, since reading teaches us how to write. And the books that inspire pour into the budding writer’s repertoire. This is why authors tend to suspend their reading until after the text they’re working on is done.
Too, without my “friends” CW, Marguerite Henry and Walter Farley, as well as the authors of the Famous Horses Series, my passion for the horse would have fallen on barren ground. Like my Grandpa and that wonderful librarian, their beingness led to characters that nurtured me and opened windows of possibility.
After all, we never know real people — or real horses — as intimately as we come to know them in a book.
As fate would have it, when I was first married and my son was a newborn, we lived in Pointe Claire, near a new branch of the Pointe Claire library that was located at Stewart Hall. On a mild day, I bundled up baby James and walked over to Stewart Hall to take out something to read. Once inside, I laid down my infant son on one of the library tables to open up his winter bunting. As I was taking off his little wool hat, a voice said, “Oh, my, what a beautiful baby!” And I turned to find the mentor of my youth, her hair white but eyes still sparkling out their immeasurable warmth, standing at my side.
I filled up with tears and to her “Oh my dear” began to cry.
“I’m alright,” I said finally. “I’m just so pleased to find you again.”
Thank you so much, once again, for evoking sweet memories of my childhood….spent as the daughter of a Librarian! On so many levels you brought me back to a wonderful time when I idolized my Teachers & adored the magnificent Horses in my back yard! Though I still regret not following in all of my sisters footsteps as Teachers, I revere those who become members of the noblest of professions! & to all of you native Canadians, Roger Atfield gave us a very entertaining acceptance speech today that would make you all proud, & Johnny brought tears to my eyes with his emotion-filled acceptance speech! You must all include Saratoga on your Bucket List!
LikeLike
Weezie: How GREAT to hear from you, fellow dumpling!!!!! I’m so pleased to know that this story brought back some memories for you. I would have KILLED to have had that amazing librarian as my own mother. So pleased for Roger Atfield and Johnny!!!! Hugs, Abigail
LikeLike
Abigail, you brought back memories I have of riding my bike to the library, picking out books I enjoyed, and also of my 10th birthday present from my dad- “King of the Wind”. I loved that book so much, that I ordered a hard cover copy for my daughter when she was 10. My friend Flicka- I read that book when I was just a youngster, then reread it innumerable times. Also, Jack London, Walter Farley and the list goes on.
I don’t remember not knowing how to read, I remember though that my kindergarten teacher wanted my mom to hold me back, and my mom refused (I was 4 when I started kindergarten). I was already reading. In fact, by the time I got to first grade, I was stealing my brother’s 3rd grade readers, and so it went. I never read at my grade level- I read anything and everything I could get my hands on. My teachers, (the ones that inspired me), encouraged my love of reading by giving me projects or challenges to stimulate my interests.
To the teachers of the world “Thank you for inspiring children”
LikeLike
Casey: That’s so neat to find others with similar memories, since this was such a precious one for me. A favourite educator of mine said, “Stories exist because there are stories” and isn’t that true? Just think: from “King of the Wind” to my story and yours. Wow! Unlike you, the reading I had to do in elementary school was seldom as exciting as the reading I did thanks to my family & the local library. Another quote from a former teacher-colleague of exceptional talent: “Books teach us how to read.” And that was certainly how I became a reader….first by adoring horses and then by discovering these fabulous authors and illustrators!
LikeLike
Abigail, one of my favorite movies as a child was “Smoky” which starred Fred MacMurray. Your childhood was indeed a rich and inspiring one, filled with these and other books. Thanks for sharing this piece of your history, and I know Shari’s kids will enjoy adding many of these tomes to their young reading lists. Most of these I haven’t read, so will be watching for them to turn up at “garage” sales or second-hand book shiops. Hugs to you dear friend!
LikeLike
Ann Maree:I just LOVE hearing from you, my dear friend and sister Dumpling. I never saw the “Smoky” movie & will see if I can hunt it down. As for the books — there is an amazing bookseller site online called abebooks.com & I use them for everything book-ish (there are really no horsey bookstores in Montreal and even our local bookstores have very few horse books). So if you don’t find any of these, have a look at abebooks.com!!!!
LikeLike
Once again you have brought the tears of a tender feeling, a remembered emotion, to my eyes by your delightful story, Abigail! Although I have no memories of going to the public library as a child, I know I frequented the libraries of every school I ever attended and checked out every horse book available. One of the things that I’ve always felt was a strong influence on my becoming a reader was the fact that we were read to as little children and I will always treasure the memories I hold in my heart of climbing up in my mother or a grandparent’s lap to have a story read to me. Naturally this led to reading stories to all my babies when they were small. My granddaughter enjoyed being read to when she was little, but my grandson not so much – he is always too busy to sit still – ha! Thank you so much for sharing your talent and your inspirations with us, Abigail. You are a treasure!
LikeLike
Celeste: GREAT hearing from you, as always! I agree: being read to as a little girl for certain lit the spark. The finishing touch were my Grandpa’s stories of some of the thoroughbred greats. I may try to write that up at some point because it is another great example of stories-within-stories that go on to shape lives. Love & hugs, Dumpling — Abigail
LikeLike
Thanks for a wonderful post! I also still have all my childhood horse books and can remember where on the shelves in the library I found the ones that I borrowed. And can remember my first visit to a library, too. (The first one didn’t go so well…I just sat in a chair, not comprehending that I was allowed to go “book shopping”! The second and third etc all went much better 🙂
One of the biggest kicks I got out of my career in publishing is when, in my first job as a very young woman, an elderly children’s-book editor asked me to call Sam Savitt. She just beamed when I rhapsodized about the experience…now I know how good it must’ve made her feel, connecting like this across generations.
LikeLike
Christina: GREAT stories and thanks so much for taking the time to share them. You know, had it not been for this amazing librarian, I would have been too overwhelmed to take a book home myself that first time. Like you, the idea I could take home ANY book that I wanted was foreign. That woman nurtured my life in permanent ways. Sam Savitt…wow! Such a wonderful writer with a huge fan-base, even today. Terrific story! Do you think I could write you, Christine, at your personal email? I have a couple of publish-related questions that I’d like to ask you. Let me know. Abigail
LikeLike
Thank you.
LikeLike
Marlaine: Thank you for taking the time to leave a remark. I really appreciate it!
LikeLike
Oh my gosh, I don’t know where to begin! I guess with “thank you” for stirring so many fond memories of growing up in a small town at a time when it was okay to ride your bike (trusty steed) or even walk to the library. I also remember thumbing through the Sears “Wish Book” every hoiday season and asking fervently every year for the book about Snowman, the famous jumper, but not getting it. (BTW, his memory has been resurrected by a new book, “Snowman: The Eighty Dollar Champion – have you read it?) Thanks to the Scholastic Book Club at my grade school, I was also able to buy many books (paperback) for .25 -.35 each. I discovered Dorothy Lyons in this manner. Golden Sovereign was a little above my reading level, but I still devoured it, being about a beautiful Palomino stallion and his spunky owner, who trained him to ride and drive (many methods that I utilized in my training when I finally reallized my dream of owning my own horse.) SInce I was equally dog crazy, all books by Albert Payson Terhune about his Sunnybank Collies were also “must reads”.
After reading “The Black Stallion and the Girl”, I wrote to Walter Farley also AND likewise received an answer from him. His character of Pam Athena was based on his daughter, who was tragically killed in an auto accident. Reading your article, now I wonder if that was the 12 year old he referred to….. I worked in Pennsylvania for a while for a woman who actually KNEW him – he was in Flordia for the winter, so I didn’t get to meet him. THEN, when I was working in Florida, I met Angie Draper (the illustrator of his later books), who advised me that she had just seen him, so I have always felt that I really missed out! I could (and have) gone on and on. I feel sorry for the people today who only read on their Kindles. I think they are missing out on so many sensory experiences! On occasion, I will still hop on my old Schwinn for a ride over to the library! And if you get the chance, “An Open Book” by Michael Dirda is his (non horsy) story of growing up Lorraine, Ohio during “the last golden age of reading”, and the realms of possibilites that were opened up to him by his love of reading. Thanks again!
LikeLike
Melanie: The challenge for me is to decide “where to begin” also in responding to your super-interesting stories. I agree that it was a “safe” time for us to be out on our bikes or just out on our own. In fact, it was one of my own reflections when I started this story — just how lucky I was to be in a part of the world where there was none of today’s danger. I have NOT read Snowman, but am jotting down the title — thank you! I don’t remember being able to buy Scholastic books, Melanie, but will ask my (93 year-old) Mum later today. She might remember. I certainly did have a Scholastic Book Club going in my classrooms over the years though. Loved that company and how they got books into children’s hands. I also don’t remember reading Dorothy Lyons & am jotting down to check her out. My sister was really into dogs, as was I. There,too, we read some great stories, including the Terhune Sunnybank Collies!!!! I actually SAW Lassie at the Malone Summer Fair and still have the program from her/his tour!!!! This is VERY NEAT to meet another person who wrote to Walter Farley & got a reply. How powerful that is, right? Talk about a “literacy lesson”! I certainly didn’t realize that Farley’s daughter was killed and that a character in “The Black Stallion and the Girl” (which I never read but intend to hunt down) was based on his daughter. I imagine it was a father’s way of keeping his love for her alive….. Naturally, I completely agree about book vs. Kindle, although I can see some advantages in having both. (I have a close friend who travels a good deal and she bought a Kindle so that she could read “on the go” & finds it great.) Last, but not least, I am also jotting down the Dirda book — it sounds fantastic! Great meeting you, Melanie, since you seem to be a soul-sister, Abigail
LikeLike
Oh Abigail,such a beautiful written story. One that makes you feel warm inside on a cold winter day. It is hard for a non-writer to put in words the way these wonderful stories make you feel.I guess that is why we have you and Steve so we may feel the warmth to.Thank you.
LikeLike
Rita: Such an exquisite comment. Thank you so very much! You brought a tear to my eye. You may not think of yourself as a writer but you most certainly have The Gift!!! Abigail
LikeLike
Dear Abigail – So many of the very same books are sitting on my shelf with the hopes that one of my 3 grandchildren will love them as much as I do. Thank you for such a beautiful story. The library was my favorite summer retreat. I could spend all day and brought as many home as was allowed. Books of horses and dogs…… One of those you mentioned “Pride of the Palio” there is a horse running named “Palio Prince” I don’t know what “Palio” is – perhaps an area, but I always thought it was a pretty name and I think Chantal or Mike has ridden him.
Your blog brings much joy to many.
LikeLike
Delrene! So happy to hear from you!!!! I’m not quite sure why, but your comment & Sue’s didn’t show up in the Comments section on my Administrator page. So I haven’t responded because I didn’t see it until now. And how SPECIAL to know that the library is still another connection we share. FYI: The Palio is an extremely old horse race that has taken place in Italy for (literally!) hundreds of years. I would never have heard of it had it not been for Marguerite Henry’s book. I’m always so happy to hear from Zenster Dumplings!!!!! Love & hugs, Abigail
LikeLike
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Abigail for that walk down memory lane! Just seeing the covers of the books filled me with nostalgia for that special time of childhood, before the interest in boys starts, such innocence, and that pure, pure love of these magnificent animals. I recall with you that special “book” smell, wonder if others notice, but I love walking into the old book shops and smelling that. Just a wonderful article. Hugs Sue
LikeLike
Sue: Like Delrene’s note above, yours never showed up on my Comments Page — hence, I didn’t respond. BUT ALWAYS SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU!!!!! That old book smell….yup….I’m absolutely addicted to it! My home is packed with books, Sue, and even those I know I won’t read twice are like old friends. I just can’t give them away. So I guess I’ll just have to enjoy the “crowded look” at home and accept that I will never have a “minimalist” living space!!!!! Love & hugs, Abigail
LikeLike
Dear Abagail, you have managed to bring tears to my eyes, I loved all the books you mentioned. My favorite Christmas memory is getting a Black Stallion book and treasuring it, adding to my collection each year. I spent many days with Alec and The Black – what wonderful stories they were happiness for the heart of a horse-crazy girl. How honored you must have felt to get an actual reply from Walter Farley.
Who could forget CW Anderson with the wonderful illustrations ! I know of no other illustrations that were so clear, pure and just wonderful !
I don’t think I will ever give up any of the hard copies of my books either. When I open a wonderful book, it’s like opening a treasure !
Thank you for sharing this story with us. You bring the memories to life and I appreciate that.
LikeLike
Sharon: Like Delrene & Sue above, I only discovered your note to me today. (Can’t quite understand how some comments go to my administrator’s page, while others don’t. I’ll need to check back on the actual VAULT page as frequently, I guess.)
Lovely to hear from you!!!! Once again we have made one of those “deep connections.” I wish that I’d known you and the others who wrote here when I became a teenager and decided I was too strange in my passion for horses and boxed all of that, including my love for them, away. I often think how terrific it would have been to have other horsey friends at that time. Oh, well. At least I’ve found you now!
It makes me think of a book by Clarissa Pinkola Estes called “Women Who Run With The Wolves.” (The book, in case you don’t know it, relates the spiritual development of women to the messages in popular fairy tales. Each chapter begins with a fairy tale, followed by how it speaks to some part of a woman’s spirit, or soul.) In one chapter, the one on the Ugly Duckling, Estes points out that once you have the courage to show who you really are (re; your passions or etc.) then you find others like you. A kind of spiritual family. This is how I think of you and all of the VAULT readers. Love & hugs, Abigail
LikeLike
Oh how I remember everyone of those books and what a joy to see the covers again. I remember my own library it is amuseum now and when ever I go there I’m amazed at how small it is, such a huge world then filled with all those books. Thanks for all the wonderful memories.
LikeLike
Kathy! How LOVELY to hear from you, my friend. And what a neat observation — that world was, indeed, huge. And filled with possibilities. Can’t wait for Charlotte’s book about her journey with Noor to be released. Milton Toby is a GREAT writer — and photographer. I actually called him once to request a copy of his photos of Terlingua, my special love. He laughed and said he would need to retire to have the time to wade through all his negatives to find them! Hugs & much love, Abigail
LikeLike
I’ll echo all the wonderful sentiments too. Seems many of us horse lovers had a very similar reading list! We didn’t have a neighborhood library but I have fond memories of the book mobile that came once a week; I know I maxed out my limit almost every time.
My one and only daughter didn’t inherit my love of horses but she sure got my love of reading and so far it looks like my one and only granddaughter likes books too.
Thanks, Abigail, for bringing back those great memories and your marvelous flair for writing. The Vault is wonderful.
LikeLike
Joanna: THANK YOU SO MUCH! I agree — we were blessed to have horses support a lifelong love of reading. My son (now 31) isn’t the kind of reader I was, but he does read. Hoping any future grandchildren include at least one who loves to read — and loves horses!!!! Abigail
LikeLike
My old favorite is “Old Bones”. Through the years I have misplaced it and very sad about that. Sorry I didn’t keep better track of it.
LikeLike
Mary Margaret: After I read your comment, I went off to ETSY and bought a copy of “Old Bones.” I had intended to buy it many months ago but had forgotten. I can’t wait to receive & read it! Thanks so much for the memory jog. It’s always great to hear from you, Abigail
LikeLike
Wow! I have a lot of books to add to my reading list!
LikeLike
Olivia: And be sure to let me know what you think of them, especially the C.A. Anderson’s. They were — and remain — my favourites, with The Black Stallion series closing fast at second place! Abigail
LikeLike
Hi Abigail, thanks for such an awesome peek into your world of horses. My first horse books were My Friend Flicka, Black Beauty, Dorian Gray just to name a few. My school librarian and I also became very good friends, whenever I would finish my schoolwork early, I would ask my teacher if I could go to the library. You brought warm memories of my childhood back to life and why I fell in love with the world of horses. Being a city girl the closest I could get to horses was through books and movies, but the love of horses is alive and well. I’m thankful that I had special teachers and librarians that enlightened me, sparked a growing love for readin; and to be able to combine it with my love of horses is a special gift that I will always be grateful of. Also, thank you again, for writing the story of my precious Swale, as you know he will always hold a special place in my heart, and when I get to heaven and get to see God’s pasture and paddocks, the first name I’ll call out is SWALE!
LikeLike
Valeria: So nice to hear from you and even more special to know that we shared the same passion for horses & reading then — and now! RE: Swale. I haven’t really done anything here about him yet — but I will. And that’s a promise, okay? Abigail
LikeLike
Hi Abigail~I have been a religious “lurker” to Zenny’s blog since the beginning and I am so glad I took the opportunity to read your article! I remember walking the 3 miles to our library in Long Beach, CA, with a paper-bag to carry home all the books I just HAD to bring home:) So many any of them were ones you-and others-have mentioned. Being a dog-lover also, I read as many of them as I could. I seem to remember one called Beautiful Joe(?) that I have looked for in past years, but couldn’t find anything about. Maybe I have the name wrong? Anyway, thank you, for taking us back to the times when life was simpler-and safer! The times when a book was the best present ever!-Cheryl
LikeLike
Cheryl: Thank you so very much for this heart-warming response. It is HUFELY appreciated and I hope you can spare the time to come back to THE VAULT often. It’s just amazing the stories this article evoked and yours is right along the same lines of so many others who wrote. Just think…had we known each other then, we would have made a GREAT Pony Club!!!! Abigail
LikeLike
Dear Abigail, You took me back to a time when life was much simpler. As a young girl I spent much time in our local bookstore and library looking at many of the same books you mentioned. You have become, to me, another gift from Z. Thank you so much.
LikeLike
Mary! This is just such a beautiful comment…I don’t know what to say….except that I, too, treasure my Z friends. We really are a family. I’ve never had an experience like that before. I owe so much to you and other “Zensters” who are frequent readers here at THE VAULT and always so encouraging. Love & hugs, Mary — Abigail
LikeLike
Oh, Abigail… So many of my dearest memories surround horse books and libraries. I have told my entire family that when I die, all they need to do to feel close to me is visit any library, because that is where my spirit is sure to reside. You have mentioned many of my most beloved friends (how I think of books), but in particular I have to say that CW Anderson is my most favorite of all. In fact, I’m looking at two prints of his gorgeous art work right now, because they’re hanging on my bedroom walls! They were in my childhood bedroom as well. I also adore Marguerite and Wesley, and can quote passages from “King of the Wind” and “Black Gold” to this day. Just thinking about those books brings tears to my eyes. Where are my copies? Why, downstairs on my special bookshelf dedicated to all my horse books – old and new. I think there are even a coupe that belonged to my mom as a kid, which means they are over 65 years old.
I loved reading about your magical visits to the little library and the darling librarian. I ran out of things I wanted to read in the elementary school library, and put a pretty good dent in the collection at the public library. I can’t imagine not going to my current one at least once a week. It makes me so sad that my children are not readers, despite my best efforts, but maybe someday they will get the bug… I worry about the current generation and the future, because there is so much electronic competition for everyone’s minds today. Even I don’t read as much as I used to, due to the Internet and my iPad. At least that does permit me to read your wonderful blog, so it’s not ALL bad! 😀
LikeLike
Hey Tracie! SO PLEASED to hear from you, dumpling! Do you know that my mother actually threw out many of my best-loved books when I was a kid but, thankfully, since I hung on to the horse books, she didn’t get to disperse them. Like you, they all sit on a special shelf in my (crowded with books!) apartment. I know exactly what you mean about the way you feel about them. Our best-loved books are a huge part of our personal life stories, don’t you think? And also like you, I had very little patience for most of the books in our elementary school…I mean, I’ve detested penguins ever since Grade 3, when we all had to listen to Mr. Popper’s Penguins and then colour in penguins and give them all names!!!! That librarian — she was my most beloved & influential teacher. Curious …. which CW’s are hanging on your wall? Don’t you wish that he was still with us, to draw Zenny & Z-12, Rachel & Taco, and Secretariat? I think about this all the time. Love & hugs, Abigail
LikeLike