Finding My Reading Genre

Finding My Reading Genre

As a kid, I grew up on a small farm on the far west side of nowhere called Orchard – it was the best time of my life.

                    

One particular summer, not long after school was over for the year my cousin Danny came all the way from Leadville to live with my family. Danny was going to help out by working alongside my big brother, Allan, for the summer. They would be driving tractors, irrigating fields, and taking care of livestock. Allan and Danny were the same age, three years older than I was that summer. I was twelve that wonderful year of my life.

There were three boy cousins in Danny’s family that would periodically come and live with my family during any given summer, sometimes two cousins came to stay with us at a time, but this year only Danny came. I was worried it was going to be a boring summer, but it morphed into a magical season. Danny shared his intelligence and wit with me, yet he was always compassionate and patient.

Not long after Danny came to spend the summer with us, he and I began a simple routine of meeting up after lunch and sometimes supper. Danny always had new card tricks to show me, or math tricks to solve that would ultimately give me a certain number or date. Danny would spend hours guessing my age, birth year, or showing me the card I’d picked from the pile. His calculations always proved correct and I could never figure out how it was accomplished – even after Danny showed me each and every step so that I could do the tricks, too!

Danny always had a paperback book hidden in one of his pockets. He was never idle. If there was a minute of solitude, Danny was reading.  As soon as Dad indicated they were to head back out to the fields, Danny stuffed the paperback back into which ever pocket was most convenient and took off to work with a bright smile on his face. 

One day after lunch, as I left the house I saw my dad laying in a cool patch of tall grass, sound asleep. I realized that I was sleepy, too and was going to find my own patch of cool grass. Looking around, I saw Danny, sitting in the shade of a tree reading his paperback.

I walked over to where Danny sat reading and made myself comfortable at the foot of the same tree. Danny didn’t say a word, he just kept reading. I could tell by the serious look on his face and by the speed his eyes were tracking words across each page that he wouldn’t be happy if I interrupted him. So I Just leaned against the tree and soon, I began to doze until my head slipped a bit and leaned against the tree.

When I opened my eyes, Danny was looking at me, smiling his crooked smile. “Wanna do some card tricks?” He asked me.

“No, I’m too sleepy,” I told him, “Did you finish your book?”

“Yup,” he grinned even bigger, “You ought to read it. Want to?”

“Dunno.” I said softly. Reading wasn’t difficult for me, but I had never found a type of book I liked to read and up 'till then I hadn’t read a book clear through just for the enjoyment of it.

In my sixth year of school, Mom had scraped up some money and let me buy a book from the Book Mobile. Black Beauty. Never finished it, yet as a child, I loved horses – never finished that book. I kept it until I turned seventeen just to remind me of what a failure I could be.

But the summer Danny spent with us, like I said, was pure magic for me. I grew up that summer. I grew wise that summer. Without Danny ever being aware of it, he helped me find a part of me that I truly believe I might never have found had he not been there those three short months.

Finally, I asked Danny, “What’s the name of the book.”

“And Then There Were None.” Danny’s eyes were sparkling. He was amused at something.

“There weren’t any what?”

“By Agatha Christie. It’s scary. Are you a scardy cat?”

I believed everything Danny told me. I was now very much afraid to read the book. Up till then, I had only watched one movie that had some scary parts in it and Mom ended up yelling at my Uncle Bobby because he had promised he wouldn’t let me stay up late to watch anything scary! Scary movies and books were not a common occurrence in my house.

“No, I’m not afraid. Give it here.” I held out my hand to Danny. I was so curious!

Danny tossed me the well-read and worn book. Gosh, even the photo on the cracked and creased cover was frightening. “There you go,” Danny said, “Don’t read it alone at night or right before you go to bed. And especially don’t let Aunt Emma know I gave it to you.”

I would never tell my mom, but even though Danny had warned me about not reading it alone or before bed, it was only then I had enough free time read. Later that night, after reading the first page, I was hooked. That book changed my life. I began to write poems and I read everything I could get my hands on that had even the smallest mystery to it. Every day after lunch, Danny and I discussed the story. He remembered every bit of the book and was able to follow my progress, right through to the end of the book. 

It couldn’t have been more magical for me had there been fairies dancing in the grass! No one ever paid me that much attention and listened to my opinions. To this day, I love book clubs. And I love Danny for just being there in that magical time of my life.

Danny went home towards the end of the summer so he could get ready to go back to school. I will never forget that summer. I named my horse after Danny – it was fitting, somehow. I also write books and short stories, but not scary ones. Maybe someday.