In contemplating photos, my grandmother’s ring, and my beloved Steiff teddy bear, I felt no motivation to discuss them here. A deep dive into these mementos might be forthcoming though. For this post, I could only think about books. From a well-curated collection, what to choose? An extremely well worn copy of The Vampire Lestat authored by Anne Rice came to mind. During its initial read, it wasn’t just me taking in the words. At the time, it seemed everyone in my orbit was reading it too, a book club before Oprah’s. I haven’t read it in many years now, but I still have it. Nope. Not this one. Back to the shelves.
Before I had my first child, I already started to purchase books for their library. Since my mom was a serial purger, very few books from my childhood remain. Ironically, she always lamented not bringing her books with her to the United States when she left what at the time was West Germany, to be with my father. Years ago, I came across a quote that said something like ‘I don’t trust people who don’t have books in their house.’ I subscribe to this adage completely, never understanding how anyone would not have at least a couple of titles in their possession. Needless to say, my home has plenty of volumes in residence.
In my downsizing frame of mind, I am easily able to decide what stays and what goes. My children’s library is another story (pun intended). Unless a title was beyond repair, it remains, a gentle reminder of a sweeter time. My perusal of an IKEA Billy book shelf brought back many memories. My youngest is now 15. I haven’t read a story to him in years. So what do I choose? How about Eric Carle’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar or Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? Then there’s Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin, Jr. and John Archaumbault. I never tired of reading this to my imps. It still has the best graphics ever. Richard Scarry, Dr. Seuss? Ferdinand the Bull, Make Way for Ducklings?, or my daughter’s all time favorite The Araboolies of Liberty Street?
Then there it was. So obvious, so cherished. Corners frayed and worn. A future artist scribbled on the now torn title page. I knew she wouldn’t let me down, Miss Margaret Wise Brown. Now you might jump to conclusions. It’s a no -brainer. Goodnight Moon, right? But you would be mistaken. Yes, I have read that one roughly 7381 times. It has held up beautifully, having had the sense to purchase it in board book form. It is a title that I still give regularly at baby showers. My kids loved it. But if you ask them what their favorite is, unanimously they say Big Red Barn.
Originally published in 1954, two years after Brown’s death, the version shown here was published in 1989 by Harper Collins, with new illustrations by Felicia Bond. Nestled in my brain forever, its 331 words are simple and calming. When read in the hushed tones of bedtime, “By the big red barn in the great green field, there was a pink pig who was learning to squeal” and the lines that follow, take on a lilting quality of comfort and warmth. Whether in a rocker recliner with at least one child, their stuffed animal, and a blanket, or curled up in a toddler bed, holding the book above our heads, Big Red Barn‘s words could soothe the fussiest of babies.
The process of reading also worked in reverse. Being an exhausted mom of three children under five years old (at the time), the promise of a story made wrangling them into bed a little easier. I vividly remember sharing a pillow with my first born, him playing with my ear to comfort himself (no thumb sucking or pacifier. An ear, go figure), cheek to cheek, feeling his sweet baby’s breath on my skin. I turn the pages without prompting, the syllables providing muscle memory. “Only the mice were left to play. Rustling and squeaking in the hay, while the moon sailed high in the dark night sky.” He’s asleep. The book goes back on the shelf….. until tomorrow.
The Materials of History, Thought, and Art 
I love this! Being an education major with a concentration in english I have always seen children get attached to books. When I was younger the book “One of Each” was my absolute favorite. Books are an important part of youth and it is important for children to become connected to them to develop their reading comprehension. The picture with the combination of marker drawings and torn out pages show just how much this book was used. Holding onto this, you can pass it down through generations.
What I love so much about this object is the personalization of it, even though it may have been through the marker scribbles on the front pages by your children! It is clearly well-worn and well-loved, and reading your post brought back memories for me of all of the books I loved when I was little. Reading and being read to so much when I was younger certainly contributed to my love for stories and writing, and is probably part of the reason that I am an English Education major. I also enjoy that although you have been purging/downsizing, you still have possession of so many of the children’s books that you bought and read to your children.
It’s things like this that make me change my mind about the anti-object mindset I tend to have. Seeing those books takes you back to one of the many beautiful times in your life, and reminds you of the closeness you had with their children as they were growing up. I’m sure these fond, immeasurable memories sometimes get lost in the array of college essays and parent-teacher conferences, so these books serve as a simple reminder. As a mother, you know a side of your children that they simply do not remember, and these books instantly bring you back to that time. Thank you for sharing this beautiful reflection.
While reading this I could feel the love you have for your children and the memories you hold within these books. I, too, put a lot of emotional stock in the books I have read and loved over the years and though I parted with many titles from my preteen years, I could never part with my first books of childhood. Those were not even an option for me to look through as my mother keeps many of them safe in a box in her room. I also love that these books from their childhood include very direct evidence of their presence in the scribbles and rips.. It almost seems to hold more of a real memory or representation of their youth than a photograph!