"Reading makes immigrants of us all. It takes us away from home, but most
importantly, it finds homes for us everywhere." -- Hazel Rochman.
A writer friend sent this to me, knowing it would resonate with me as it did with her. Reading links us in unlikely and unexpected ways.
Not too long ago, I received an email from a man in Syria who had read one of my Chicken Soup stories, complimenting me on it. We will never meet, but words brought two disparate people together.
I will probably never be a corporate executive, a counter terrorism agent, or a ballerina, but I've read books with heroes and heroines in all these--and more--professions. Books have taken me from the Antartic to the Big Sky country of Montana, from Bolivia to Italy, from Alaska to Alabama.
I was, indeed, an immigrant. In reading, I became, for a few precious moments, a native of those places.
This I know for sure: reading is a passport more valuable than any officially issued piece of paper.
Oh, and so much more economical!
ReplyDeleteRight now, I'm reading Atlas Shrugged and Moby Dick. I'm at home on the industrial railroad track and the Pequod all at the same time. I can slip in and out of them as I would put on different shoes. Some books are like slippers, and I go back to them frequently. The scriptures, of course, but also A Christmas Carol, which I read every Christmas, but also in the middle of June, just because. Hmmm. That last sentence was a doozy. Looks like I dipped into the comma box and sprinkled liberally over my writing. Typing. Whatever.