Good Morning, Everyone.

The first Sunday in February 2024 finds my little corner of home cold and gray. I hate to admit it, but a little snow dusting could make the gray worthwhile and drive the bleakness away.

It is Children’s Author and Illustrator Week (I am extending the celebration through the month). Pour your brew. Let’s talk about story.

If we were having coffee together, I would tell you I’ve been thinking of my paternal grandma, Mary, who was a voracious reader. Although she enjoyed historical narratives and books about faraway places, fiction was her go-to favorite. She loved a good story.  

I imagined she was a steady patron of her local library during her youth. As a young married woman, her family lived in a multi-generation walk-up in the Graves End section of Brooklyn. Many hands helped with child rearing, cooking, washing, cleaning, and daily shopping. Women and girls  knitted, darned socks, or sewed dress factory piece work at the end of the day. But I imagine that living in a multi-generation home provided Mary opportunities to get lost in a book. She could be exempt from the day’s end chores because there was always someone else to do them. 

Mary probably had to pare back her reading when her father passed away and then, soon after, her husband died and her mother’s health slowly faded. There was little time to escape into a novel. Redbook magazines and Reader’s Digest short stories helped satisfy that reader itch, but they were simple bandaids. 

With two of her four children living at home, Mary needed a job. What better place to spend a work day than her favorite place—the Brooklyn Public Library. She found herself surrounded by vetted information, passionate readers, children beginning their book loving journeys, and stories. Patrons sought her for recommendations. Mary and her sister-in-laws, who also worked at the library, had lively book discussions. She borrowed books, bought worn out books for 5 cents, and culled through the books that were too battered to remain on a shelf. She introduced her grandchildren to Margaret and H.A Rey’s Curious George, Beatrix Potter’s bunnies, ducks, and irritated farmers, and Russel and Lillian Hoban’s Frances stories. 

On most Sundays and all holidays Grandma’s second-floor walk-up was the place for visiting and eating all day. A gaggle of kids ran up and down the stairs and played tag and hide-n-seek under the piano or tight closets. I took part and probably instigated much of the cousin chaos, but at some point, I would sit in a little corner of my grandma’s front room with a picture book and a little one reading the harrowing adventures of a little white duck on the yellow waters of the Yangzee River and the outrageous antics of a cat wearing a hat. Grandma also stocked chapter books, and novels. I still think about some of the book’s characters and places I read in my grandma’s front room.

I borrowed her books and brought them back the next time I visited – which was always soon. I loved carving private time from my busy home, getting lost in the adventures and conflicts, and meeting characters beyond my safe suburban home. I liked to ponder what could happen next. What were my favorite characters doing now? My writing desires stemmed from reading Grandma’s books.

My parents, well educated and excellent readers, read to gain practical knowledge. Books and magazines about how things worked, biology, and astronomy filled the book shelves and bathroom magazine racks. These days, my 90-year-old mother reads downloaded books by physicists and is exploring the theories of black holes and time. 

When I was a kid, the library was not in our family routine. I got my first library card when I was a teen and could bike myself into town. An aunt, who noted my thick novel selections, commented that reading will make me smart. I often think about this notation. I was not into reading for the smarts. I was in it for the story. For the record, I am not any smarter than the average person. 

The draw to read and create stories continues to be something I need to do. Reading and writing allows me to understand human nature, experience how the events of time steer life into unexpected adventures, and how humor engages us. There is probably so much more. I am at a loss to explain how satisfied I feel when I read a good book—be it a thoughtful 32-page picture book or an epic novel that takes me weeks to finish. I thank my grandma for that gift. 

Did someone inspire your reader’s life?

Great BIG Thanks and appreciation go out to Natalie the Explorer who keeps the Weekend Coffee Share percolating.

ATTENTION Teachers, Librarians, PTA/PTO Officers, Home School Parents 

I am offering FREE book readings this month. Now is the time to schedule a FREE virtual author visit with me and my picture book, Famous Seaweed Soup, or the Tween/Teen Historical Fiction series Becoming America’s Stories. Discover how these stories became award-winning books, and delighted readers of all ages. 

Are you on Long Island, NY? We can talk about a LIVE visit. 

Please email me (atmartin@stories-served.com) or fill out the form and we’ll get started.

Stay tuned for more updates.

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