Originally posted by PaloAltoCougar
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Like many here, I tend to be an early adopter, but I'm not sold on the e-book thing for the reasons above-mentioned, particularly the goodness of holding a real book with pages. This reminds me of a blog post my oldest daughter put up several months ago (apologies to those who have read this, particularly since my posting it is a bit self-laudatory) which underscores the magic of a good book, and makes me question whether that's something an LCD can replicate.
I have a vivid recollection of sitting in my bed in my room when I was probably 8 or so, with Allison in her bed, my dad sitting on the carpet between us with his back against our dresser reading to us. My dad was (and is, I guess, though I don't suppose he reads them much any more) a big fan of the Treehorn books (look it up and do yourself a favor and read them - they're fantastic) and William Steig ("The Amazing Bone" is a bit frightening but totally awesome and the vocabulary is supernal). But the memory I most recall is of him cracking open "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" from a beautiful boxed set that seemed to announce it was FOR BIG PEOPLE. I think I might have been 8 at the time? Or 7? I don't remember exactly, but I was young enough to be amused by saying "By Jove!" or using the word "bloody" until one day my dad explained the origins. But I digress. I would lay in bed there listening as he would read and envisioned all that Peter, Susan, Lucy and that awful Edmund were going through. I think I cried when (spoiler!) Aslan lets the Witch kill him. And I felt very important when my dad later talked to me about the parallels between this book and Christianity (yes my dad really had these kinds of conversations with us, which is one reason why he is such a rock star). I felt like he had unlocked some secret treasure box or something.
As the years went on, I always had fond memories of this book. And so it was on my wedding day that during the luncheon for the wedding party, my dad presented me with a few books that played an important part in my formative years, one being a very beautiful copy, complete with illustrations, of that much cherished "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe."
Since then, it has sat quietly on my bookshelf, waiting for the day I would pull it down, crack it open, and begin to share these words with my own children. On my wedding day, that day seemed ages away. But today I finished chapter 9 with Ainsleigh. At first I wondered if she understood what was going on. But as I would stop periodically to ask her what she thought, she was RIGHT THERE with me. Did she have any idea where Edmund went while his siblings were talking to the beavers? "To the White Witch," she whispered. Good girl. And as I placed the bookmark between the pages and closed the book while climbing off of her bed, she began to plead, "Please just one more chapter." No, I explained, she needed to get to sleep. And this would give her something to look forward to the next day. Then I said, "I'm glad you like the book." She looked a little wistful toward the book now resting on her dresser and said mournfully, "No. I *love* it."
Years ago, after my dad would close the book and turn out the light, I would lay in bed and think about how one day I would be the one reading to a child in bed. And I would wonder what that would be like. Little does Ainsleigh know she not only fulfilled, but surpassed, that dream. Thanks, little lady.
P.S. Read to your kids, whether it's from book or a box.
I have a vivid recollection of sitting in my bed in my room when I was probably 8 or so, with Allison in her bed, my dad sitting on the carpet between us with his back against our dresser reading to us. My dad was (and is, I guess, though I don't suppose he reads them much any more) a big fan of the Treehorn books (look it up and do yourself a favor and read them - they're fantastic) and William Steig ("The Amazing Bone" is a bit frightening but totally awesome and the vocabulary is supernal). But the memory I most recall is of him cracking open "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" from a beautiful boxed set that seemed to announce it was FOR BIG PEOPLE. I think I might have been 8 at the time? Or 7? I don't remember exactly, but I was young enough to be amused by saying "By Jove!" or using the word "bloody" until one day my dad explained the origins. But I digress. I would lay in bed there listening as he would read and envisioned all that Peter, Susan, Lucy and that awful Edmund were going through. I think I cried when (spoiler!) Aslan lets the Witch kill him. And I felt very important when my dad later talked to me about the parallels between this book and Christianity (yes my dad really had these kinds of conversations with us, which is one reason why he is such a rock star). I felt like he had unlocked some secret treasure box or something.
As the years went on, I always had fond memories of this book. And so it was on my wedding day that during the luncheon for the wedding party, my dad presented me with a few books that played an important part in my formative years, one being a very beautiful copy, complete with illustrations, of that much cherished "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe."
Since then, it has sat quietly on my bookshelf, waiting for the day I would pull it down, crack it open, and begin to share these words with my own children. On my wedding day, that day seemed ages away. But today I finished chapter 9 with Ainsleigh. At first I wondered if she understood what was going on. But as I would stop periodically to ask her what she thought, she was RIGHT THERE with me. Did she have any idea where Edmund went while his siblings were talking to the beavers? "To the White Witch," she whispered. Good girl. And as I placed the bookmark between the pages and closed the book while climbing off of her bed, she began to plead, "Please just one more chapter." No, I explained, she needed to get to sleep. And this would give her something to look forward to the next day. Then I said, "I'm glad you like the book." She looked a little wistful toward the book now resting on her dresser and said mournfully, "No. I *love* it."
Years ago, after my dad would close the book and turn out the light, I would lay in bed and think about how one day I would be the one reading to a child in bed. And I would wonder what that would be like. Little does Ainsleigh know she not only fulfilled, but surpassed, that dream. Thanks, little lady.
P.S. Read to your kids, whether it's from book or a box.
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