The meaning of books
Today my mother gave me an old book she found on her bookcase. Dusty and falling apart it appeared, at first glance, to be worthy only of the recycling pile: but opening it up, it was a very different story.
The book was given to me by my speech and drama teacher who guided me through the world of enunciation, poetry and drama from the age of three until I was seventeen.
Her name was Mollie Kelly and she walked heavily around her apartment, sucking deeply on her fragile cigarette holder and coughing mightily while instructing me on how to recite a poem so that listeners would feel the melody. Her small dog, Rags, sat at her feet and shivered from some imagined chill.
She changed my life and I will never forget her. The book is titled The Development of the Theatre and it was published in 1937 and given to her by her speech and drama teacher in 1946; and then given to me from Mollie in 1987.
As I opened it's battered and frankly, quite unimpressive cover, I was struck by how emotional it made me feel and it reminded me that books can hold a moment in time for us that would otherwise be forgotten. In the pages of her gift I remembered my time with her and everything she taught me. I am sure that we all have a book like that- one that summons memories and takes us back to who we were and I wondered if she knew how much it meant to me and If I had said, 'thank you,' enough. I probably did not but I was young and moving on with life so I will just say, 'Thank you' now and hope that where ever she is in the universe-she knows how grateful I am.
The book was given to me by my speech and drama teacher who guided me through the world of enunciation, poetry and drama from the age of three until I was seventeen.
Her name was Mollie Kelly and she walked heavily around her apartment, sucking deeply on her fragile cigarette holder and coughing mightily while instructing me on how to recite a poem so that listeners would feel the melody. Her small dog, Rags, sat at her feet and shivered from some imagined chill.
She changed my life and I will never forget her. The book is titled The Development of the Theatre and it was published in 1937 and given to her by her speech and drama teacher in 1946; and then given to me from Mollie in 1987.
As I opened it's battered and frankly, quite unimpressive cover, I was struck by how emotional it made me feel and it reminded me that books can hold a moment in time for us that would otherwise be forgotten. In the pages of her gift I remembered my time with her and everything she taught me. I am sure that we all have a book like that- one that summons memories and takes us back to who we were and I wondered if she knew how much it meant to me and If I had said, 'thank you,' enough. I probably did not but I was young and moving on with life so I will just say, 'Thank you' now and hope that where ever she is in the universe-she knows how grateful I am.
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