Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 03/10/2022 (250 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

In August, my mom excitedly planned to attend David A. Robertson’s book launch for The Stone Child at McNally Robinson. For her, this was as big as a Harry Styles concert or something. She’s a big fan of Robertson, often citing from his book Black Water; she is convinced that she knows the location of a party he attended and wrote about.

“I think it’s (in the area) where we used to live,” she’d mention every time we talked about the book.

On the day of the launch, she made her way to the bookstore more than an hour early and snagged the best seats in the house, using her scarf to hold them. When we arrived, she proudly showed off our spot and explained that she’d been there, waiting, for an hour. So, it was a lucky bonus when they removed the reserved signs on the front row, just before Robertson was set to read an excerpt from the book, and sit down for a conversation with local author, Colleen Nelson. You better believe my mom and a couple of the kids jumped at the chance for front-row seats. Like I mentioned earlier, this was my mom’s version of a concert, or something like that.

A retired teacher, my mom has a great love of literacy, a love that she shares with her family as much and often as she can. She often brings over copies of books she’s just read for me or my sisters. It’s always the same interaction — she’ll hand over the paperback and go into detail about the contents, or the author, like she’s giving a live book report. She’s thoughtful in how she shares, picking books that she thinks we’ll connect with.

When we were young, she’d read to us every night before bed — the Ramona Quimby series, the Little House on the Prairie series, Superfudge… She’d tuck us into our beds, warm and safe, and then take us on an adventure with the perfect recipe of the words on the page and our imaginations.

Those are some of my most comfortable memories.

Ten years ago she started a tradition with the kids. She’ll take each one out on a yearly date that she dubbed “the ladies’ lunch” as a way to celebrate their birthdays. Every year when one of the kid’s birthday months rolls around, my mom will make a plan to pick them up and take them out — usually to the Prairie Ink Café at McNally Robinson Grant Park, though sometimes the plans deviate to a different destination. No matter which restaurant they choose, it’s always a sit-down place with a physical menu, because when the tradition first started the kids were young and didn’t often go to sit-down restaurants. Ordering off the menu is an intentional part of the experience of this special day.

Then, after lunch they always make their way back into the bookstore, where they wander around, perusing the shelves, hunting for something new.

She lets them browse as long as they want and doesn’t deter them from choosing a book they like.

“They all pick books that I wouldn’t have picked for them,” she said. “I like seeing what kind of books they’re into.”

These little lunch dates have become an anticipated extension of each kid’s birthday, a way for her to spend some quality one-on-one time with each of them, since each visit with Granny was usually shared with siblings, and sometimes cousins. It’s also a way to share her love of reading and words with the kids. This week it’s my niece Mia’s turn for a ladies lunch, and next month it’ll be Amie’s turn.

“Books are a uniquely portable magic,” author Steven King once said, and he’s right.

Thanks for sharing your love of magic, Mom.

shelley.cook@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter @ShelleyACook