Living a Life of Solitary Contemplation and Endless Adventures

In a previous post I mentioned becoming a hermit.  I attributed that in part to the ostracism I felt in school because of my mother's religion.  However, that was not the only cause and, perhaps, not even the chief cause. 

My parents did not agree on much at all.  But two of the things they agreed on right down the line were 'spare the rod and spoil the child' and ANYBODY anywhere near my own age would be a corrupting influence on me.  As a result of this I was never allowed to have any friends or associate with any other kids unless they were younger than I and under my parent's watchful eye.

So, at school, I had no friends.  Well I did have one.  Nice guy.  Son of the man who owned the Ford dealership.  Arty type.  Played classical piano.  Last I heard (many years ago) he was doing biological chemistry research in Tampa, Fl.  And, of course, one girl.  Girls were not nearly as mean to me as boys so I hung around girls whenever I could.  Still do. 

Up until my eighteenth birthday I had only much younger boys as friends.  On my eighteenth birthday my parents stopped telling me what I could or could not do.  On December seventh I was firmly under their thumb.  On December 8th I was free as a bird.  That was a situation made for disaster but we won't go into that right now.

I'm not sure at what age I was when I discovered books.  I mean 'real' books and not "See Spot Run" kind of things.   I guess my first books were those little, blue covered, biographies.  Then I moved on to biographies of all the great NY Yankee players.  Then were were 'The Hardy Boys" mysteries and the "Chip Hilton" sports series.  I think it was in the fourth grade I started on Western Novels.  I loved reading Zane Grey.  He was a poet who wrote prose.  He had a gift for creating a picture of the time and place with words. 

I'm not sure when I first discovered Science Fiction but that was a huge find for me.  Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, Arthur C Clarke, Phillip K. Dick, Clifford D. Simak, Poul Anderson, Andre Norton and so very many others.  I discovered books could take one any place and any time at all. 

It is a wonder my mother did not forbid me to read as she forbade so many other things but I guess she figured books would corrupt my virgin young mind far less than friends would have so books were the lesser of two evils.  For that I am eternally thankful for I cannot imagine what life would be like without books.

Books could, and did, take me everywhere in the world.  Places that existed in geography and places that existed only in some author's imagination.  I could adventure along the Nile with the Egyptians and fly among the stars in the far future with earth men and aliens.  I could move westward with the pioneers or make voyages of discovery with the Spanish explores or visit ancient Cathay with Marco Polo.  While I was not allowed any flesh and blood friends I had more friends than I could possibly begin to count.

It was not until much later in life I really discovered Fantasy.  My home room teacher when I was a sophomore loaned me a copy of JRR Tolkien's "The Hobbit".  Once I had a chance to read the "War of the Ring" trilogy I was really hooked.  I still read (and still do) a lot of things from other genres but nothing attracts me like the world of Wizardry and heroes (and heroines).  Especially those (many) books of the young lad (or lass) from humble beginnings who becomes a legendary hero (or heroine).  Kind of like Charlie Brown turns into King Arthur and Merlin rolled into one.

Much, much later on I discovered Terry Pratchett.  His novels were set in a fantasy setting by he was very adept at commenting on the human condition and skewering humanities hypocrisies.  He quickly turned into my very favorite author and I anxiously await each new adventure on the Diskworld.  Where would I be without Rincewind, Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, Magrat Garlick, Captain Carrot, Sam Vimes and all the rest?  I have re-read his books so many times I've lost count.

And, I have found books make you think.  Books make you dream.  Books let you realize you have little need of other people and you no longer feel the pain of early rejections.  You have a good friend always ready at hand to console you, to stimulate you, to make you laugh or cry.  And, if you're like me, you become pretty much of a hermit and prefer the company of a good book to all others.

So, what am I reading now?  "Snuff" by Terry Pratchett, my new Smithsonian magazine, "The Dragonbone Chair" by Tad Williams.  My new 'Discovery' magazine.  A "National Geographic".   Probably a couple of others I have forgotten.  How anyone can only read one thing at a time I do not know.  I used to have a book in every room so I never had to hunt for one; I'd just pick up whatever was in that room and continue the story.