Books are friends

Shh. Don't tell anyone, but I steal copies of the Chicago Tribune. Only on Sundays. Some phantom beast lays it upon my doorstep, probably for a neighbor, and though I have not paid for it, I snatch it up, run inside, and put it under my coffee table and maybe read it a week later, maybe just look through Parade and clip coupons.

But recently I read this article in the Tribune. It’s about how children in violent Chicago neighborhoods have fearful, compromised summers because they cannot so much as play Double Dutch in their front yards without being threatened by stray bullets.

It's a very sad tale, and one I wish more people would think about. Perhaps then people would speak up a little more about the dying Chicago children. Maybe then I wouldn't have to listen to crap stories like this one, about oh, pity the rich white people in Lincoln Park, condo sales are down 3 percent and Goose Island almost went out of business. Perhaps then I could hear more stories about unrest, about uprising. Compassion.

But I digress.

The Tribune article mentions that children in violent neighborhoods spend a lot of their summertime in libraries, which are safe havens from gangs. And this led me to think that if there is one positive in all of this (and I hesitate to say that there can be anything positive about children living their daily lives in fear), then it is that children are looking upon libraries as places of safety and leisure, and perhaps this will lead to a lifelong love of books.

And this led to thoughts about our modern digital world, and the passing away of the CD and the physical book. My conclusion is, perhaps books are not in as much jeopardy as the CD. When you are young, after all, a book is tantamount to a toy (unlike a CD). Books are magical. Children love to touch books, to turn pages, to look at bright colors. And this, I would think, leads to some level of respect and appreciation for the physical book. Am I right here?

Bill and I recently bought four new bookshelves. They are huge. They cover one wall in our living room. We must have 500 or so books. They are so pretty. They smell so good. I want to eat them. I want to drive a motorcycle and put them in my best buddy sidecar. Is this because when I was six I flipped the pages of Danny and the Dinosaur and the sensation of going to the museum was real? Because I had never been to a museum, but holding this book in my hands meant that I was there, that I did meet a dinosaur. I was Danny, as long as I carried the book around with me and traced my fingers along its smooth, vivid pages. Did these tactile experiences with a book lead to my respect for books?

Maybe not entirely. After all, not everyone who read Danny and the Dinosaur when they were little grew up to build a large book collection. But I think that most people own at least a handful of books that they treasure. Most people would agree that there is something about the physical book that makes reading an experience instead of just an occurrence. Perhaps it is the kid in all of us that sustains our belief in the magic of books.