When I was seven years old, my mother dropped me at the library. She did this every Saturday morning. I was to find a book and take it home for the week.
On this particular week, I was feeling brave, and I chose "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea" by Jules Verne. It was a big book, very grown up, but it had a drawing of a submarine on the front so I liked it.
Well, the librarian took one look at me, removed the book from my hands, and said "This book is too hard for you. Go get one from the children's section."
I did as I was told.
When my mother picked me up, I showed her the Curious George book I had chosen. As she drove away, I told her what the librarian had said.
SCREECH!
My mother stopped the car, grabbed my elbow, and dragged me into the library.
"Did you tell my son a book was too hard for him?" she yelled.
"Never tell a child a book is too hard! And never THIS child!"
She then demanded the book, shoved it in my arms, and marched me out of there.
To this day, I say my love of reading and writing began at that moment. My mother showed me - not told me, but showed me - that learning was worth fighting for, and that I was worth fighting for. She stood up for me on that day. And every day I sit down to write, I try to be worthy of it.
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Comments: 48
from going to my first ballgame. One day while i was getting dressed to go out
i saw a roll of pennies on the floor behind a table, i picked it up put it in my pocket and went out. I knew it must have been my Mom's but i thought she must have forgotten about it. As i left the apt.house i heard my mom say Michael did you take a roll of pennies- caught. That night mom said to me Michael what you did was wrong and i am going to have to punish you. you took something from me and now i'm going to take from you the one thing you want the most- you are not giong to the Yankee game, she said, i love you and i hate to do this . That was 1954, a doubleheader vs. Tigers. Thanks Mom, because of you i never took another thing that wasn't mine.----43yrs. a lesson never forgotten.
My 13 year old granddaughter loves to read as much as I do and always has plenty of books around.
Wonderful story. Thanks for sharing it.
You are the only on I listen to anymore.
,
I am also a Michigander, I live in Detroit right across from Warren , Michigan (8 Mile). Have seen you and read many of your articles in the paper. Nice to have our "Homeboy" on the gathers.
When I was small, I once picked up a simple literary work The Dark Room by a famous Indian writer in English, R.K. Narayan. The librarian, who could hardly read beyond the title of an English work, became very suspicious and publicly admonished me for showing interest in such shady works. The curious glances of older people around made me shrink and I quietly slithered away without daring to pick up an alternate choice.
It was a part time job for her to defend us growing up.
After reading this article it made me want to try to remember all the stories and put to paper perhaps even submit one of those stories someday.
Your story sets a simple stage with three actors and a powerful story, its about
instinctive parenting, doing what is right and more than anything, empowerment
Your mother in defending you, taught several lessons OF life FOR a lifetime.
Bravo !
Thanks Mitch
Glennh234-Please be aware that my entry is here
Peter and Lisa are my older siblings, two years apart respectively. Both inherited dad's
grace and balance, determination and ease with all things active. I, two years the youngest on the other hand was bequeathed mom's outgoing social spark and seeming inability to throw anything but a well aimed retort.
While Peter and Lisa tossed and climbed, I tripped and fell.
One day in the spring of my 12th year I got into a fight on campus. You would think by all I've told thus far that I would be on the losing end but alas, no! For some reason I was winning. My Jr. High counselor grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me into his office and sat me down while he phoned my mother at work.
All was well and good so far. I was at fault and my mother agreed with the counselor, Mr. Cohn.
Then his tone changed. He started in with my low to middle grades in Phys. Ed. then with a nasty thread in his voice snidely dripped in that I spent too much time with girls during lunch and not enough time with other boys on the field.
Mr. Cohn had placed the phone on conference so that I might hear my mother's recriminations. That was a tactical error.
"Mr. Cohn, are you a licensed Psychologist?"
"Well, no. I..."
"Mr. Cohn, Are you aware that I work at a county mental health facility evaluating
in-patient care?
"Ah, well no I am not"
"Mr. Cohn, what were your Phys. Ed. grades like in junior high and did you like girls?"
"Mrs. Nicholson, I do not see how this is relevant"
"Exactly my point, Mr. Cohn. We are talking about two different things here.
Charlie should not be fighting. This is true. But my boy's grades in P.E. and his laughing with girls? He is perfect just the way he is and unless you have a degree in child psychology, Mr. Cohn, I would stay away from analyzing the children under your care.
You could get into a lot of trouble, Mr. Cohn. May I speak with Charlie?"
"He is right here". Mr Cohn gulped.
"Honey, stop fighting"
"Ok, mom"
"I love you."
"I love you too, mom"
And she hung up.
Mr. Cohn placed the receiver back in its cradle.
"Go back to class, Mr. Nicholson".
I never heard another word.
That's my definition of the word, and your story about the librarian's comment demonstrates how rampant adultism is and reminds readers that being 'helpful' is most effective when it comes from a place of encouragement and love.
I think that there are many people that underestimate the ablilities of a child because they know no better.
I've had similar incidents happen to me especially because I was so small for
my age. Still today people underestimate me because I look very very young for my age.
Good for you - I'd thank your mom too!!!
Lyrical Passion Entertainment, LLC.
ALSO, in the early '60's, when Blacks were not allowed in certain restaurants, etc., my mom and I were catching the bus home from our church on a very HOT day in Louisville, KY and my throat was parched. Being a small girl of about 6-7 yrs old, I asked my mom to stop at a certain restaurant, but she said we couldn't and I was really thirsty for some water. I told her that we could pay the people at that restaurant for some water, but she told me why we weren't allowed to go there. We hadn't made it to our bus stop yet, and I was ready to cry so my mother walked me into the lobby of The Kentucky Hotel and a nice Black man, a porter in a crisp white suit like Colonel Harland Sanders, asked us what we needed. My mother asked for a glass of water for me and the man asked us to meet us at the side door where he brought me a tall glass of ice cold water wrapped in a cloth napkin. I thanked the man and slowly drank the water until it was gone. We both thanked the man and to this day, I occasionally think about that event. The area I live in is so diverse now, but certain occasions arise that bring this event to light again. I thought my mother was a saint then and I still do!!
How blessed is your life to be the son of such a Mother as She! And clearly She was equally blessed to create you!
This was my first read here, count me all the way in!
I'd like to have seen the expression on that librarian's face! Of course, we're all only human. Except Mothers of course.
Mothers are SUPERHUMAN!!!!