As I think about what made our 12 year-old daughter’s book drive so incredible, it wasn’t just that she is an avid reader or that she wholeheartedly believes that access to books is a great leveller. It wasn’t just the time we spent together going from house to house to pick up the donations or the hours spent together organizing and delivering thousands of books. Watching her interact with Mary Ladky from The Children’s Book Bank when we made our delivery made this her experience. I look forward to hearing about the volunteer hours that she will spend reading to children at their Regent Park location in downtown Toronto. I really recommend this for individuals and for groups. What a great place to invite children to fall in love with reading.
It was also a beautiful experience in the meaning of books for me and other parents alike. In the months of this drive, our eldest and I picked up books from many people. I may have picked up a lot of them without her for convenience but, overall, we gathered the donation items as a team. Thanks to the sharing reach of social media, people we knew and many whom we had never met searched their stocks to participate in this. While this book drive was a great reason for clearing the house of surplus books, people were reflective, as I was, determining which books could actually be parted with in view of the wonderful cause. As a teacher and children’s book lover, I felt the pain and loss of giving up the treasures that sparked the memory of young children being put to bed saying “goodnight room” or the expressions of love like “to the moon and back.” It was lovely hearing about the books that did not make the pile.
Books that were once in a bag dedicated for donation were culled for nostalgia. I shared the joy of many of those special books that just couldn’t be donated like Free to Be You and Me, which I saw in its original form for the first time, and other classics that bring a community feeling to the island that parenthood can sometimes be. My own childhood came into view with some of the classics that I still covet sitting in the doorways of the homes where we were picking up books. They were often in a box in the corner, but still in view, safely tucked away for nothing but keepsake. Together, my daughter and I listened to tales of the many books that didn’t make it to the contribution stack because they gave too much to the family who felt compelled to keep them. Every story had a story.
Now that I can process the experience of this book drive, I see why this was such an authentic and meaningful task for our daughter. Telling me that she finally felt like an activist filled me with joy knowing she achieved a goal that I hadn’t even realized was part of the task- feeling the power of action. Beyond taking away the satisfaction of a special experience, I have a new sentimentality for the books that were retracted. The memory of collecting stories while gathering books will stay with me like a warm hug embracing the artifacts of children raised and lives well-lived. Those are certainly things worth holding on to.