to be a bookworm: it’s an inherited trait
As a kid, my parents moved us around a lot. With our rapidly growing family, we found ourselves constantly needing more room. Because of this, I found that I had a very different idea of sentimental value than most. My comfort places weren’t a physical place, but rather a collection of objects. My Father’s library was the most consistent thing in my childhood, no matter what house we were in at the time, there was a 100% chance that his absurdly large collection of books had a room or very large closet for themselves where I could hide away for hours on end.
He had books so old they looked like they would crumble if you so much as breathed near them, and books so new they looked like they had just come off the press. They were all so different, so diverse in length, but they all had one thing in common: each book played a very specific role in my Dad’s pursuit of self education and contributed in its own way to his complex comprehension of business and life.
I still remember the day my Dad let me read my first book from his library. We were cleaning out the library shelves, getting rid of the books that my siblings and I had gotten ahold of or that he no longer had space for. There were so many beautiful leather bound books, others with colorful plastic covers, books so small I was sure I could read them in 20 minutes flat, and books so big that they seemed to contain all the knowledge of the universe. I asked Dad when he would let me read one in passing, but to my delight he was proud of my question and said I could as long as he got to pick the first book I read.
You could imagine my disappointment when he reached to the back of a shelf and pulled out a beaten up little tiny copy of The Richest Man in Babylon. The book looked so old I thought it would crumble in his hands. The spine was cracked in multiple places, the corners were fraying and curled upwards. I was sure it must be a joke until my Dad said “Start with this one” as he handed me the little book with a very serious face. I knew better to complain about a gift though so I walked upstairs with my book and began to read.
The book was a testament to the importance of self-discipline and saving money. It talked about how important it is to think about the bigger picture rather than the immediate desires in life. What I initially found to be an offensive choice, a testament to my father’s perception of me as a little girl, turned out to be an incredible lesson and one of my favorite lessons to this day. Needless to say I learned to not judge a book by it’s cover, but this also began my own journey of collecting books and self-educating. In my next article, I’ll share some of my favorite books that I’ve collected over the years, and I hope that some of them also become some of yours!
