Read Until the Pages are Blank

As a kid, I shunned sports and playing outdoors and instead buried myself in books. I was like an addict, stealing any free moment I could find to read. Upon hearing my mother approaching my room, I would hide the book I was reading under my homework and pretend I was deeply engrossed in a math problem. I finally hit rock bottom when my mother confiscated my library card as punishment for finding me reading in bed at night to the dim light coming from the hallway. She said I was ruining my eyes but I didn't care, I just wanted to know what happened next. 

During my youth, fiction was all I devoured.  I gobbled up the classics like Anne of Green Gables, The Secret Garden, Little Women and Heidi.  I read most of Beverly Cleary's young adult novels and rejoiced when I discovered endless tomes of Nancy Drew mysteries. I read exclusively about girls and felt that the only use boys had were as distant objects of desire. The heroines' torment over unrequited love only made them more interesting to me.

Fiction continued to captivate me until I took a World Religions class in high school. After 9 years in Catholic schools it was, ironically, this class that opened my mind to religious spirituality. I set aside Ivan Turgenev and Henry James and started learning about Islam and Buddhism. Religion became a gateway into a burgeoning new passion: culture. As a first generation American, in high school I attracted friends who also grew up with two cultures. But the one who captivated me most was a Romanian girl who, after 4 years of close friendship, 'came out' to me as a Jew. Her tales of religious persecution and eventual escape from Romania further fueled my need to learn more about the people on this planet and why Religion is such a big deal to them. So after college I put down the books and hit the road to experience a little of it myself.

These days after a bit of travel and a whole bunch of life experiences, I have returned to my first love. The books I now read cycle through my phases of cultural obsession. India and Japan stay with me always, but others grab my attention at their own accord. The common thread lies in the stories and struggles of women around the world. Whether living in Pakistan, Iran or Somalia, I continue to be fascinated by women and how they find the resolve to persevere, enact change and raise families within the harshest conditions. 

I have been fortunate enough to see small pockets of the world, but only books allow me the freedom to experience them all.