I give my dad credit for turning me into a bookworm. And for all the activities, interests and accomplishments that my love of reading led to. It seems that, every Christmas and birthday, there was a wonderful new storybook from my dad. He couldn’t wait to see my delight as I unwrapped the present and opened the new book he had carefully chosen for me. I can’t remember that any of my three sisters ever received those special presents from Dad, or if they did, they contained not books but something that fit their favorite activity or pastime. I’ve mentioned the Pinocchio book and doll that came on the heels of my first movie, Disney’s classic movie about the puppet who longed to be a real boy.
Another favorite book was “Little Elephant’s Christmas” by Jean McConnell. I learned much later in life that she had written a number of other children’s stories featuring the characters in my book, but the main appeal of this particular story was that Little Elephant and his family observed Christmas in much the same way as our family did. They decorated a tree with ornaments closely resembling the few blown-glass ones on our tree and artificial snow (ours had metallic “icicles.”) Mother Elephant made taffy – we had homemade fudge and Dad’s favorite Apricot Candy Roll (rich white fudge loaded with chopped apricots and black walnuts.) On Christmas morning, Little Elephant unloaded his stocking of its treasures consisting of small toys, an orange, and at the very bottom, a shiny new wrist watch. There were presents for everyone; a beautiful lace collar for Mother Elephant, a set of special paints for Father Elephant to decorate his tusks, and a woolly trunk-warmer for Grandpa Elephant. Of course, little Elephant got the most presents, as in our family it was the children who were showered with gifts. There was a huge Christmas dinner including roasted turkey (Little Elephant, of course, had an enormous drumstick) after which everyone was too full to do much but nap and admire their new presents.
The book contained drawings of highlights; Little Elephant had tried to blow the artificial snow onto the tree with his trunk and suffered a sneezing fit; he got taffy stuck to his trunk while helping with the taffy-pulling, whirled it about in an effort to shake it loose and ultimately set it sailing through the air to stick in Grandpa Elephant’s toupee and carry it away. In the end, Little Elephant went to bed early, wearing his new watch and murmuring that it had been “the best Christmas ever.”
The story paralleled our family Christmas in so many ways that I am sure my dad read every word before buying it. It didn’t include so many of the things featured in other Christmas stories, such as swags of holly and mistletoe or hordes of carolers, things that were never part of our Christmas.
A great reader himself, Dad made sure there were abundant books intended for use by the whole family. We had reference books; World Book encyclopedia, Lands and People published by National Geographic, The John Martin Books for children were a wonderful collection of stories, poems, activities, puzzles, history, science experiments and general information. I returned to those books many times during my lifetime, even after I thought I had outgrown them. Dad brought home books from auction sales he attended, including such classics as Black Beauty, Heidi, and a complete set of the Bobbsey Twins stories. Published in 1934, the year I was born, the books reflected many attitudes that were offensive even at the time I first heard them read to me. Designed to appeal to children aged 5 to 8, they were likely written to be read to, not by, young children. My parents must have edited out much of the racial and separatist attitude that I came across years later when I read some of them to my own children who soon lost interest in the pointless plots. I gave the books to a neighbor.
In second grade, our teacher took us on field trips that made up for the lack of what are today standard school facilities. Our first trip to the town’s public library was better than a trip to Disneyland by one of today’s children. All those books! I dreamed of reading them all.