Who Reads?

Once upon a time, an extraordinarily long time ago when I was in the first grade at Athens School in Lexington, Kentucky, I was selected by my teacher to read for the second graders and the fifth graders. Feeling special and chosen are emotions I feel today as I remember. Funny how remembrances of childhood events become more significant as we age. Funny how sad it is that no one remembers but you. Funny and sad in the same sentence is extremely funny and sad. Oh yes, back to the story. My teacher told me repeatedly how expressive I was when I read aloud. The other teachers agreed. Consequently, I have since attempted to express the emotions of the printed page. This very minute I am hearing my expressions as I type these words. I hear my abstract thoughts, sarcasm, humor, and sailor language kept from the printed page. If I shared those expressive words, you would know exactly what I would say to my teacher today once you read the next paragraph.

During reading class, students in the reading circle were served a glass bottle of milk to drink. I hated milk. It made me gag. I remember the smell of the glass top on those milk bottles. Forcing me to drink the milk was not cool. At six years old I seriously fantasized throwing bottles of milk at my teacher, stomping my feet and storming out of the room. My mom finally found straws that I could use which flavored the milk as I drank it. My teacher allowed me to use those straws. I still hated the milk.

Through the years I have loved reading. Going to the library was my favorite excursion. I looked at every book. Of course, with my church upbringing I read the Bible. Our Sunday School class had us keep track of how many chapters we read in a week. I would find the shortest ones, frequently from Psalms. We had to memorize the books of the Bible and recite the list of sixty-six (66) books. That was a virtue expected of every Christian. That brings a chuckle. Memorizing Bible verses was also an expectation. My understanding was that when the Russians invaded us, burned all our Bibles, and implemented Communism we must have the WORD in our hearts and minds. I was a good little Christian girl and memorized Psalm 1 and 2^nd Timothy 2:15. I could recite the books of the Bible faster than anyone. Rah! Rah! Rah! Put a checkmark on that one, Jesus!

 I read all the Bobbsey Twins books, Nancy Drew and Cherry Ames books advancing to Victor Hugo. Reading children’s books to my girls was the best reading I ever did. Later in life I would sit to read after my children would go to bed and sometimes read until the alarm would ring. Miss Willie by Janice Holt Giles remains a favorite in my mind. I enjoyed books by authors writing real life stories that reminded me of the dreadful stories my grandparents told me about their upbringing. True confession, fiction is now my least favorite reading. Is it my attention span or assuming my life has been seedier and more glamorous than the characters in the books? I really should either write my life story or find a ghost writer.

It is probably not common to have been married to a Native American who lived with grandparents on a reservation in Mescalero New Mexico, was abused by the nuns in boarding school on the reservation, was a Vietnam Veteran traumatized by fireworks because of PTSD, who later in life went to Wounded Knee, burned his green card and took back his Indian name, Paintedpony. Truth was, Mr. Paintedpony had no Indian blood, did not live with his grandparents on a reservation in New Mexico, did not attend boarding school, was not abused by the nuns, had never served in the military, and certainly did not fight alongside Leonard Peltier at Wounded Knee. Truth, he was a man who grew up in Staten Island, NY to an ordinary family, the Millers. Once the truth was exposed, he was unwilling to return to his real identity. His refusal to be Mr. Miller persuaded me to end living his fantasy. The truth did not change my love for the man who helped me learn to love myself and believe in me, but the lie was over. I was proud of my itty-bitty amount of Cherokee bloodline, loved the history of the Native Americans and had been proud to unite and take the name of Paintedpony. To tell you about this man would be difficult since I am not sure what was real. I watched him be generous, loving, kind and spiritual. I felt his love for me in ways I never imagined. Was it love from him or a fairytale?

Back to books. In the past few years in search of TRUTH, I have come to know my Father in new and different circumstances. My Creator, Lord, Savior, Healer, Protector, Friend, Comforter experienced sitting on the lap of Jesus Christ. Knowing what I believe, knowing my faith is strong, I have opened loads of books of thought and contemplation. Books few family members may consider heretical. My most recent study has been from Michael Camp’s book, Craft Brewed Jesus. Following writers Richard Rohr, Michael Camp, Thomas Merton, Peter DeHaan, Graham Cooke, Tremper Longman III, Doug Good Feather, Pope Francis, Diana Butler Bass, St Therese of Lisieux, Rob Bell, Henri Nouwen, Paula Stone Williams, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Julian of Norwich and others certainly brings controversy to my Independent Christian Church upbringing with scholars like Don Nash, Andy Dale and others.  I am grateful for those who have introduced me to these writers, historians, and theologians. If I were reading this, I would skip over the extensive list of authors named above. Lists of authors are boring! Blah! Blah! Blah! If you are at all challenged to explore the beliefs of others this list may be helpful.

When I was in nursing school, I read a book about what if you had been born in a different faith. Searching for that book, the name of the book and the author has resulted in “did I imagine I read that book” question. Endeavors to know TRUTH still motivate me to read more. My wealth of knowledge from reading all these books is invaluable. Ask me about any one of them. I can tell you without missing a beat, it was good, or it was bad or sift out the good and leave behind the garbage. Can I tell you about the book or quote passages?

Let me think. I read it with great expression in my head.  I skimmed the boring parts. I often read chapter one and skipped to the last page. I did turn pages. I stacked a bunch of books up on the table. I carried tons of books to the thrift store. I did benefit from reflecting on TRUTH versus MAKE BELIEVE.

If you come to my house you will notice every Bible cover is red because of one philosophical and impressive statement from my dad I expect you to hold on to and remember, “every Bible should be read.”  

Janie Roberts Davis 08/28/2024