Count your blessings on the family bookshelf

You may have tangible wealth untold;

Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.

Richer than I you can never be --

I had a mother who read to me.

-- STRICKLAND GILLIAN

While waiting in line at a Starbucks, I smiled at the little girl who straddled her mother’s hip. The girl had big beautiful brown eyes and a smile that made everybody else in line smile when she looked their way. She played peek-a-boo with me for a little while, and then she wriggled down from her mother and went off carefully exploring the store.

“You have a precious little girl there,” I said to the woman. “How old is she?”

“Thank you,” said the mother. “She’s 3 years old.”

Just as her mother was served her coffee, the little girl appeared, holding a book. There was a large basket of books in the store for little people to enjoy while waiting for their parents.

“That’s great that she likes books so much,” I said.

The woman laughed and responded, “Oh goodness, you should see our house. We’re buried in books.”

The mother said goodbye to me, kissed her daughter on the head and said: “We need to leave that book here sweetie for other little girls and boys. Please put it back in the basket.”

The little girl ran back to the basket and returned the book.

We’re buried in books too. My husband, Jon, and I love books, as do our parents, our daughters and their husbands, and it’s already clear that our granddaughter Mary loves books too. We come from a long line of book-lovers. I think our house is slowly sinking from the weight of them all.

When our girls were little, Jon and I read to them, but Jon made it a special part of their bedtime routine. He read to them from the Bible, he read to them the classics, complete with differing voices, and continued to read to them long after they read well on their own. The girls were part of reading programs at the library in the summer, and we read out loud to each other on car trips. We gave them books and magazine subscriptions as gifts, and we still do.

I recently went to Bristol Farms, and remembered something that happened there soon after it first opened.

Our daughter Amy and a friend went there. I’d told Amy that they sold something called Kobe beef, which was the most expensive meat I had ever heard of, costing a $100 a pound. She wanted to see it for herself, and she asked the butcher what made it so valuable.

She learned that the Kobe cows were fed by hand and given massages.

“In fact, they are pampered like spoiled children and probably raised with more attention than you were”, the butcher said to her.

Amy told me she then asked him, “Did it get read to every night?”

Apparently, he smiled and answered, “OK, you got me there”

I laughed as I thought of that today, especially in light of the fact that I’d mailed a book to Amy that I’d borrowed and I’d read part of another of her books while waiting for an appointment.

I love the quote at the top of the column, though in our case, it needs to include a father.

Reading is a gift. May we all find ways to share this special gift with others in our lives.

And you can quote me on that.

* CINDY TRANE CHRISTESON is a Newport Beach resident who speaks frequently to parenting groups. She may be reached via e-mail at [email protected] or through the mail at 537 Newport Center Drive, Box 505, Newport Beach, CA 92660.

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