Books. Books. And even more books. Stacks of them. Piles of them. Books that teach you how to fix a sink, books that teach you how to fold
sheets.Those are great books. Necessary books, the How To’s of our time.
Books also tell stories. Books can weave a story filled with so much humanity, so much compassion, it is liable to make you cry.
We are lost without them. Stories demonstrate how to live, and what happens when we ignore the warnings contained within. We are intrigued. We are changed. We are drawn into story. It is who we are.
This last week or so, three of my friends have been assaulted, robbed, or have had their lives threatened. In some cases, I am sure the assailants were mentally fragile – which brings up another set of concerns I am not addressing in this post.
But for the others… the ones who bully and beat up and take from others for their own gain, who demean and assault because they have been demeaned and assaulted in some way, shape or form in their lives… I wonder if any of the people who did these horrible things had ever read a book.
I cannot imagine anyone, who, after spending hours with Catcher in the Rye or The Hobbit or Cat in the Hat, would ever consider doing to another human being what has been done to my friends – and other people around the world.
I’m naive. I know I am. There’s more to the issues of violence in our society. But we have to start somewhere.
Along with the penalty the law provides, how about we give assailants a copy of Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird? Sit down with them and help them read it if they need the assistance. Show them there is a bigger, more expansive world out there than they had ever imagined.
Wrap your mind around something worthwhile today, gentle people, but before you go, please remember to leave a comment…. I’m off to the cafe to create more stories.