My Song of Myself

“We read to know we are not alone.” –C.S. Lewis

“The universe is made of stories, not atoms.” –Muriel Ruckeyser

“Words are our most inexhaustable source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.” –Albus Dumbledore

Words make my world go round. I interpret the universe through words and stories. As a kid, whenever I would listen to a song, it was the words that mattered most to me, not the music. I loved it when the vinyl albums my sisters brought home had the lyrics provided. I spent many a summer afternoon learning the lyrics to my favorite songs. And when lyrics were not provided, I would take to pencil and paper to painstakingly write down each lyric, going back to listen and relisten until I had the words right. In high school, trying to find meaning in alegebra or the periodic table seemed like a pointless exercise. To me, the only academic discipline worth studying was literature.

Ironically, neither of my parents were big readers, but I will forever be grateful that they made books available to us. We had many children’s books in my home, and I remember many trips to the Orem City Public Library. I can still remember how I looked forward to those trips and made a dash for the tall grey metallic bookshelves in the south wing of the library when we arrived. On the bottom right shelf, there was a thick volume of illustrated fairy tales that I would beg to check out every trip. My favorite story in the collection was “Jack and the Beanstalk.” I loved imagining climbing up into the clouds into a world with giants and golden harps and geese that laid golden eggs.

Bookstores and libraries have always been sacred spaces to me and were mental refuges throughout my childhood. I have a vivid memory of sitting in the library at Cascade Elementary on a cold winter day and watching the snow swirling softly in the triangular atrium adjacent to the library. It was a zenlike moment of complete contentment for me, not wanting to be anywhere else in the world. In my early teens, it was the fantasy worlds and characters from The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Chronicles of Narnia that helped me survive junior high, the betrayal of my best friend, and my parents’ divorce. As Paul Simon sings in his classic song, “I am a rock, I am an island / I have my books / And my poetry to protect me.” Through the turmoil of puberty and a dysfunctional family, fantasy was just the recipe needed to escape the harsh realities of my current situation. As I grew a bit older, my high school teachers introduced me to realistic fiction, and there I found characters who faced many of the same anxieties that I faced, and I also met other characters with an entirely different worldview. Walking in the shoes of others taught me to be more empathic to my fellow travelers on this earthly journey.

The theater also played a unique role in nurturing my imagination and my love for words. My oldest sister, Cathy, 14 years my senior, was a theater major at BYU. At 5 years old, I was cast (with a little help from my assistant director sister) as the unnamed Indian prince fought over by the king and queen of the fairies, Titania and Oberon, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Though I didn’t have any lines, I was repeatedly exposed to the soaring language of Shakespeare. In fact, my sister took it upon herself to make me memorize one of Puck’s speeches and to regularly perform it before my family. I still remember the lines.

And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow’d house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door. (V. i.)

I still have the book I memorized in 1975. You can see the lines above lightly highlighted in red by my sister. Cathy involved me in some additional productions as I grew older, including the musical Oliver and a short BYU film called “Where a Man Dwells” and a play adaptation of James Agee’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel A Death in the Family. Our family also attended numerous plays performed by Cathy’s acting troupe, The Lighthouse Repertory Theater. They brought to life dramatic works such as Agatha Christie’s Mousetrap, The Miracle Worker, The Glass Menagerie, Blithe Spirit, and The Imaginary Invalid. These plays widened my vocabulary and showed me the power literature has to connect with human experiences.

Books always made great companions for me during lonely days as well. In my dating years, you could often find me walking the Provo River Trail on sunny afternoons, reading aloud to the trees and the river. With my nose in a book, I had a few near misses with bikers, skateboarders, and joggers sharing the path with me. My penchant for reading aloud (hailing back to my theater days) drew some strange looks but would serve me well as an English teacher and also in church settings. Because of my fondness for words and language, speaking in church seemed to come naturally to me. Once I was called upon in an impromptu whim from a Sunday school teacher to recite Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” which fortunately I had memorized. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the least bit trepidatious, being right in my wheelhouse. Similarly, I have been called on to read a love poem at my sister’s wedding and shared a tribute to my father at his funeral (calling on the words of John Donne’s “Death Be Not Proud”). At both the funeral of my grandfather and my grandmother, I was asked to read a personal essay I penned on their behalf.

Literature also had a big impact on my dating experiences. Every girl that I ever got serious with was a book lover, and as soon as I learned a girl wasn’t a reader, any hope of a relationship was forfeited. My idea of a perfect date always seemed to end up at a bookstore or in a discussion about books. My very first girlfriend was an avid reader. We could have talked about books endlessly. I remember her writing me letters when I served as an LDS missionary in Pennsylvania, and her sharing experience from her AP Lit class back home, or sharing famous literary quotes with me, that is, until she informed me that she was engaged to another man. My first girlfriend in college was a Biology major who also loved literature. We attended the Cedar City Shakespeare festival together, and how could I forget our last date at Nunn’s Park in Provo Canyon? We sat under the shade of a tree on a blanket. I read a short story to her from one of my anthologies (we enjoyed reading together), then she tearfully told me that things weren’t going to work out with us. She cried all the way home, naturally, knowing that I would no longer be reading her stories :). My next girlfriend was a fellow English major and a magazine editor for the LDS church’s teen magazine, The New Era. I once even asked out a librarian from the Orem City Public Library, the same library where my mother took me as a child. I guess I was always attracted to the bookish types. However, all of these previous experiences pale in comparison with my first date with my wife Melanie, 27 years ago. On that night, we discovered we had a common passion for Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine, and I think we both took that as a sign. The rest is history.

It seems that literature has nearly always been at the center of many of the seminal experiences of my life. As I mentioned in my previous post, I became an English teacher because of an inspiring English teacher at Orem High School who brought literature to life for me. Now, as an English teacher myself, I try to pass on that same legacy to my students. My everyday revolves around trying to help teenagers make sense of literature and to create literature of their own. There is rarely a day when I am not reading a poem, short story, play, or reading student writing. Then I go home, and books extend into every other aspect of my life.

My wife and I have passed on our love of reading to our children. Books on tape have helped many a road trip pass merrily along. Family dinners often turn to discussions of films and books. We talk about Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Katniss Everdeen as if they were members of the family. In today’s political climate, I couldn’t be more proud of my well-read children who have learned to think for themselves and regularly make stands for their convictions. And when the family discusses films, we quickly jump to a discussion of “the writing” (especially my daughter, an aspiring screenwriter). I have always believed in the philosophy of President LBJ that “a book is the most effective weapon against intolerance and ignorance.” My experience has been that people who read are simply more open-minded and much better conversationalists. I’m proud that my kids are such people.

As I grow older, my literary tastes have changed, but books are still at the heart of my existence. I read more nonfiction now. I am fascinated with history and theology. When I turn to fiction, it is realistic fiction or historical fiction. Fantasy doesn’t float my boat anymore. I want books that focus on and help me better understand the world in which we live. I’m very fond of poetry–such a small package with such a big impact. When I listen to music, I am drawn to the storytellers: James Taylor, Billy Joel, Paul Simon, Joni Mitchell, Emmylou Harris, Lyle Lovett, and the like. When I work out at the gym, I often listen to books on tape. At church, I read scriptures or sermons. Next to my bed, you will regularly find two or three books. And of course, my favorite place in the house is the living room with the built-in bookcase.