If I ever get famous, I am going to establish this Day.
I think it will be on December, um, 8th. It’s my childhood best friend’s birthday. Also, it will honor John Lennon, who was a friend of artists everywhere. Just as bookstores are.
Maybe that’s a reach, but who cares? It’s MY holiday
We need to show our children the pleasure, not just of a story, or even of a book, but of a bookSTORE.
A place of half-hidden treasures just waiting to be discovered. Where you pluck things off shelves that are richer than jewels. Scheherazade’s lair.
Heck, who knows how long it’ll be before the words “Jenny Milchman says to take your kid to a bookstore” hold the slightest modicum of power?
Do it this December 8th anyway. Let your child pick whatever book she or he wants from the shelf. Let him or her feel it. Smell it. Pore over it.
Then read it to your child.
And as the peace sinks into you, as you see the light on your child’s face, reflect a little yourself.
The book? $14 at Amazon. That comfy chair you’re sitting on, the remnant of carpet, as seen at my favorite independent? Free at a garage sale.
The bookstore? Priceless.