Living in the Past

This morning, someone sent me an email with a delightful poem about growing up In the 50’s…. I got kind of an odd feeling.

I didn’t grow up in the 50’s.

I didn’t really grow up in the 60’s either – although I was alive through that entire decade and am very much aware of all that happened….

I am really a child of the 70’s… a very interesting decade.

When I was 8, my aunt opened up a whole new world to me. She introduced me to books. She had a collection from when she was a young girl which she began to share with me. They included Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Judy Bolton, Ruth Fielding, Honey Bunch, The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew , Cherry Ames and many others. 

I did not read the ‘updated’ versions of these books. I read the ORIGINALS. The ones that were written in the 30’s and 40’s. The ones with large printing and pages that were like construction paper.

My aunt passed away in 1989. She left all these books to me and I treasure them still and reread them often. I collect ones that I do not have from church basement tag sales when I can find them and I read each one multiple times.

Through these books, I learned about life in the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s…… The descriptions of the towns, roads, people, and the occasional pictures allowed me to see a world that was vastly different from the one I grew up in.

Reading these books – and seeing this email….. I know that I did not physically live during the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s – but through these books – I DID live through them. The things that people my age do not remember came alive for me through these books. So, when I see these reminiscent emails – I feel as if I have lived these times. Each picture seems real  to me – as real as if I had seen them first hand.

Books make history come alive in a way that movies cannot. With books, we are free to use and to develop our imaginations. To see what WE choose to see – our own visions of the past. In movies, we see someone elses vision of the past – what they think or believe or research. The feeling of living through that era or time can’t be created because it is not ones own…

Books are mans gift to man. Read. Treasure what Is in your own mind. Create. Live a time that is not your own.