My Little Nook of the World

My name is Robin, and I'm a bookaholic. I've had a "problem," with books since the 5th grade. I blame it on Mrs. White. My teacher decided to have a reading contest and the winner would win a hard bound copy of "The Prince and the Pauper," by Mark Twain. I never realized how competitive I was until that contest. I wanted to win. I had to win. I dreamed of winning. I went to the school library and really began reading. In a short amount of time, and 26 books later, I won that contest and that book. I also developed a love of reading that is still with me to this day.

So, I can blame Mrs. White. She opened up a world to me that changed my life forever. Even though I lived in a small valley outside of Reno, Nevada (Sun Valley), I could travel through time and around the world. I would take my book outside and in-between the dust of the desert and the heat of the sun, I was transported. My life was never dull or boring again. I went places and I did things my siblings couldn't even begin to understand.

I ran from the Morlocks and sat next to Nancy Drew as she drove her sweet, little blue convertible. Hercule Poirot never had a better audience than me as he waxed his moustache and utilized his little grey cells. My tastes were diversified, but I tended to drift towards mysteries. I loved the challenge of trying to figure out "who did it." Agatha always kept me guessing. I was usually disappointed by an author when I had it figured out by Chapter 4 who did it. I still finished reading their book, but rarely checked out their next offering.

In high school I was reading seven books and two plays a week. As my reading pace picked up, so did my need to visit the local library. I was an aide in the library from sixth grade through my senior year of high school. It was the best way to get my "fix."

I often thought of becoming a librarian, but I couldn't afford to pay my way through Berkeley or UCLA, the nearest colleges that offered a degree in the field. But my love of reading has remained. I have thousands of books at home. I've given away a thousand. You think I joke? Trust me, I'm not. I counted them. Many libraries, children centers and domestic violence centers have benefitted from me weeding through my books.

Now, I have a Barnes & Noble nook. I have found a little piece of heaven right here on earth. My nook has 2 gig of memory in it and I was able to purchase a memory card for another 2 gig. What does this mean? I can hold 1,500 books on this nook at one time. That's enough books to keep me quite happy.

I read all the time. When some face down time waiting in line at the grocery store, car wash or a lunch hour, they just twiddle their fingers doing their best not to stress out. Me? I'm reading. I'm relaxed and happy chilling out with my latest read. I swear it's lowered my blood pressure. I don't care about how long I have to wait at a restaurant. I have a book.

More people should try it out. Maybe they wouldn't be so damned cranky. When nook owners see others reading theirs they just quietly share a smile. They know the secret of a happy life. Reading.

Are you wondering what Christmas present to buy a loved one who enjoys reading? Get them a nook. It will be the best present in the world. Make sure to buy one for a child. It can open up a world as big as their imagination and take them places completely unforgettable.

My grandson is merely two years old, so a nook isn't for him quite yet. But wait until his 5th birthday.

Ouranosaurus, Tumbleweeds and Giants

I lived a good portion of my life in a rinky dink town called Sun Valley, Nevada. It's about a 15 mile stretch of trailers, tumbleweeds and horney toads outside of Reno, Nevada. As a kid there wasn't much to do in my neighborhood. No playgrounds. No parks. No roller rinks. Pretty much all we had was dirt, sagebrush and scorpions to play with--and in the Spring the sagebrush could make you itch when it was blooming.

What I did have was a very active imagination. One of the things I used to imagine as I kicked back under my parent's weeping willow tree, was the mountains that surrounded us were actually sleeping dinosaurs. The rugged hills were brown, rough looking and definitely had the essence of an Ouranosaurus. Sometimes, their faces poked out of the rocks, eager to take a bite of me as I walked by.



With a huge holler (which strangely sounded like a jet engine of a passing plane), the Ouranosaurus would come to life and wander around our valley. He'd nibble on some sagebrush, stretch out his legs and occasionally chase a baby blue Ford pickup truck.

Every now and then, a black haired giant would step over the hills and join the Ouranosaurus in its chase of the elusive Ford truck. The giant often caught the truck and would lift it high into the air, peeking in at the screaming humans in the truck's cab. I'd laugh and he'd gentle set them down on Pearl Avenue to screech away, dogs barking and kids crying.

The dinosaurs and giants kept me company on those lonely summer days. They didn't wander in the winter. They hibernated until the following Spring.

If I'm really quiet, I can sometimes hear the dinosaur hollering even here in Texas. He knows where to find me. I'm looking forward to springtime.

History

I love history. It ties back to my high school years with my favorite teacher of all times, Mr. Fred Horlacher. My junior year Nevada History class was the most amazing experience of my life. Mr. Horlacher lived and breathed history. He brought it life. We never had a book in his class. If his lecture was on the Civil War, he'd come in dressed as a soldier and tell us about the Civil War as if he lived it. One time he came in full Native American garb. A full feather headress and all. You took your notes from his lecture and that's what he tested on. He was the coolest teacher in the whole school.

He was also the advisor for the Ghost Towners Nevada History Club. You fought to get into his classes and to get into the club. It was only open to upperclassmen and was a blast to be in. We went on field trips all around Northern Nevada. Our initiation into the club was walking around the Virginia City cemetery on Halloween night at midnight. Come on, how cool was that? He had it boobytrapped with sounds and people to scare us. After we walked around (and screamed a lot) we sat around the headstones as he told us real life "ghost" stories about the residents of Virginia City. I can still close my eyes and see exactly what it looked like. It's a snapshot I've had in my brain all these years.

He took us along the same path the infamous Donner Party took that fateful winter. He had handed out beef jerky to us and we walked by moonlight. No flashlights. He told us the sad story about the Donner Party. Of course, once they got to the part of cannibalizing, the beef jerky just didn't taste good anymore. lol

He loved to play practical jokes on us. Sitting around a campfire, he would tell us stories about the Native Americans that lived around Lahontan resevoir. He would have us repeat a few Paiute phrases. Owa Ta Foo Iam. Over and over we'd say it. Suddenly people started giggling. More and more of us got it. What a crack up he was.

He sent newbie students on "snipe" hunting trips. Those who knew about snipes kept out laughter quiet until the newbs were out in the dark making noises and carrying a burlap bag.

I learned to appreciate and respect the history of Nevada because of Mr. Horlacher. And because his passion for history rubbed off on me, I am learning to love and respect the history of Texas. And Texas has a lot of history wrapped up within its borders. Each day trip we take we learn something else about this place we call home.

Mr. Horlacher would be proud.