Today I find myself waxing nostalgic. I hate when that happens, but there you are. I tend to be a collector—not so good a thing either. Or, maybe, I am simply an accumulator. Either way, I have some stuff. I tend to gather things that have to do with “story”: old and new books that suit my fancy, Pueblo and Navaho storyteller figures, magazines, figurines of children reading, a Lladro lady with a book, and vintage readers. I love old pre-primers, primers, and early childhood readers, in particular.
Anyway, that brings me back to nostalgia. I have been collecting early elementary school readers for some years now. Lately, I’ve had to make myself stop—that or build another house onto our present house in order to store them. I can’t seem to help myself. I so enjoy old readers with their homey graphics of childhood. Some of these books I remember as a child although I have many that pre-date me and certainly pre-date my childhood. None are particularly valuable except to me. But they sometimes shine like gold whenever I take time to sit and thumb through them on a lazy day. No, I was never an elementary school teacher, but, amazingly enough, I once was an elementary school student, and I suppose many of us former children long, at times, for the simplicity of childhood and for all those adults who once peopled our lives.
I have been looking through some of my readers today and thought I might share a few pages from one or two. I have several I’d like to share but will limit myself to a few pages that capture a bit of my autumnal nostalgia. Perhaps we’ll talk Dick and Jane another day.