Salutations, bibliophiles.
Today, I’m very excited to bring you
.Steve writes
, where he explores ideas and insights into the nature of Santa Claus through various perspectives and explore the concepts of joy and happiness in thoughts and actions. On the other hand, it also includes the hurdles faced in pursuing the above when hampered by the burden of Mental Health issues. Being Santa Every Day is not easy for the happiest of people, and Steve’s attempt is hampered by struggles with ADHD, Anxiety, and Depression. As you can imagine, this creates quite an inner conflict.Here, Steve shares with us the book that first taught him that the world could be understood — Encyclopedia Brittanica. Enjoy!
I have loved to read for as long as I can remember, but I do not have one memory of my parents ever reading to me. My only memories of being read to are from classrooms and one babysitter. She was so good at reading that I do not recall her face, her name, or anything else about her. I remember the book.
I remember being so drawn into the story that I did not want my parents to come home. When it was clear we would not finish the book in one sitting, I couldn't wait for my parents to go out and leave us with the sitter again. I needed her to continue the book. I was hooked. However, that is not the book that made me. That is a different story.
A Bit About Me
I am the middle of three children, and my brother was born just ten months later than me: 47 days, to be exact. As such, my time to shine was relatively short. I grew up feeling lost in the mix, as many middle children do, and as time went by, I found myself in the shade of my older sister and younger brother. Rather than fighting outward to gain attention externally, I found it easier to focus elsewhere to fulfill my needs. I was like a flower trapped between two trees, and my only source of nourishment was to dig down rather than fight for the sunlight. I guess that made me a weed.
I could tell you my love of reading came from when our babysitter read Jonathan Livingston Seagull to us or from the complete hard-cover edition sets of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew Mysteries my parents bought for us, but both would be untrue.
Do I Owe My Love of Reading to Door-to-Door Salesmen?
I have read Jonathan Livingston Seagull multiple times over the years, and I certainly loved those Hardy Boys books. We even had a special bookshelf sized perfectly to fit the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew collections. Upon reflection, I imagine the bookshelf came as part of the package, and it amuses me to think one of my parents bought them from a traveling salesman. However, the truth is I do not know.
While I will credit the Hardy Boys as my first love in fiction, it was nonfiction that made me. Just as the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew bookshelves mysteriously arrived at our home one day, I came home from elementary school to find a complete set of The Encyclopedia Britannica, with the custom-sized bookshelf, of course.
I first thought this was like another piece of furniture in the house—something to look attractive but not really to be interacted with, much like the strange mural on our dining room wall. However, after walking past it daily, it finally piqued my interest. So it was that one day, I pulled out Volume A, sat on the floor, and started to read. I read it like a fiction book, from front to back, as that was how I understood books to work.
Did I understand everything I read? Of course not. Was I ready for everything I saw in those volumes? Hell no, but the information fed my curiosity and framed my perception of the world. Things outside were there to be understood, explained, cataloged, and shared. My life was no longer playing a part in an immense game with rules I did not understand; my role was to observe, research, take notes, and write down my understanding.
I am unsure if I had heard of an aardvark by that age, but suddenly, I knew about them. And anteaters, the goddess Athena, and countless other amazing things. Again, I was hooked.
Reading as Exploring
From an early age, the Encyclopedia Brittanica taught me that to read was to explore.
I read through all those volumes alphabetically, from the first page to the last, until I had read them all. While I could only recall bits and pieces of the information, it gave me places to go, things to learn, and ideas to explore. It was the nourishment I needed at the time.
The Encyclopedia Britannica made me curious. It showed me a wonderful world out there waiting to be explored, and I could go there. I would not be limited to the small world I felt trapped in, I would not always feel I was living in the shade of taller trees, and I would not be a weed.
The Encyclopedia Britannica did far more than make me a reader; it framed my outlook on life. It informed me of a world filled with wonders and made a seeker of me.
In this way, the little boy who once felt forlorn, lost in the mix due to birth order and timing, found something to fill that void.
Now, here I am, a mere weed of a boy who grew up in rural New England, half a world away and flourishing in a coastal village on the Japan Sea.
Thank you, Britannica.
P.S. For more ways of getting your writing in front of new readers, consider becoming a paying subscriber today.
Opening and cyclopedia and dictionaries at random and reading is something I loved to do as a kid. I can’t say I read an entire set of encyclopedia front to back, however! Great story, a good way to get started on reading and understanding the world.
Love this! I too spent a lot of time with our encyclopedias, always frustrated that the entries were too short!