She Asked Me Why I Read

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Why I Read

 

Someone asked why I read so much. “I like it,” seemed so inadequate. Why I can’t think of the clever answers when asked is beyond me. Later I wrote what I wish I had said.

 

            I own a record mile, earned on fire scarred feet. I climbed Anna Purna in Tibet and used maggots to clean the frostbite. Newspaper in hand, Ernest and I made the run with the bulls in Pamplona. One night, dressed as a ham, I ran from Tom Ewell’s knife into Boo Radley’s safe arms.

 

            Jules flew me across Europe in a hot air balloon after Sam took me down the Mississippi on a raft. Jules also took me to the moon, but I’ve been there in five different centuries by twice that many ways. I’ve become an ace in Spads, Hellcats, F14s, Tie fighters, and on dragon back. I crashed in China once, but to a hero’s welcome.

 

            I’ve gone to war in many uniforms, from khaki in the Khyber Pass to kimonos in Kyoto. I’ve worn Union blue, Confederate gray, and cavalry gold. I’ve been so covered in sand or mud that no one could tell what color the uniform was. I’ve fired flintlocks on the Indian frontier, muskets many times, M1’s in Korea, M16’s in Viet Nam, and needlers, blasters, and lasers throughout the galaxy. The worst was Moscow. Both times.

 

            On Mars I sang of the Green Hills of Earth. On Dune I smelled the spice and saw the Maker.  Dwarves have befriended me, and I’ve toasted in elvish. I’ve seen planet rings that make Saturn’s look cheap and spelunked in ice caves greater than Carlsbad’s caverns.

 

            Part of a brotherhood, I quested for the grail, the ring, and the wizard.

 

            I have so many friends I cannot name them. They talk to me, sing to me, bark, whinny, and flare. They come to my aid. They give me words, ideas, or hope, as needed. They even play tricks upon me. Merlin comes disguised as Dumbledore, while Horatio is even more clever. She shows up as Honor Harrington.