For some odd reason this morning, I was thinking about a few of the bazillion books I’ve devoured and thoughts of my childhood popped into my head. I don’t often think about those years. Very few of the memories are pleasant.
Home consisted of cruelties I couldn’t escape and at school, I was the bespectacled clutz that all the guys sought out for advice on how to get the pretty girls to like them. Then I was introduced to the world of Barbara Cartland.
A very perceptive neighbor rescued me and took me under her wing. An older lady and avid romance reader, she belonged to a book-of-the-month club. And she had been a loyal member for a while. Stacks upon stacks, she had filled an entire room with paperbacks. God rest her generous soul.
Under the pretense of helping her feed her numerous cats or clean her house, she squirreled me away into a corner of that wondrous room and I’d escape from my miseries for hours. Thanks to an elderly lady’s kindness and the wondrous worlds of Barbara Cartland, a young girl found sanctuary when she needed it the most. Never underestimate the power of a book when it comes to a hungry soul.
Has anyone influenced you or saved you from misery with the written word?