Finding Barnes (Barnes & Noble on a Saturday Afternoon)

There is nothing more heavenly to me than sitting on the floor in the middle of a bookstore, head buried into a found treasure. Once I step through the doors, I am in sensory overload and my head begins to spin. I don't know where to begin . . . magazines, bargain bin, new arrivals. I begin to itch like an addict in need of a fix, so I grab everything I find of interest. By the time I reach the escalator to head downstairs to the crafts and romance sections, my arms are overflowing with my "booty". After I peruse through the design and cooking sections, I find a spot in the African American section where I can sit undisturbed with pictures of Angela and Malcolm challenging my inner revolutionary.
I can remember the first time I needed a book fix. I was about nine years old and our television broke. My mother refused to buy another one. (Actually, it took her some time to save up for a new color TV., but she didn't want us to know it). So, we had to settle for the radio or a good book. Reading was natural to me. It allowed me to escape into worlds that I thought were much better than mine at the time. I often found myself running through the woods to escape to freedom along with Amos Fortune Freeman and Harriet Tubman or walking through the closet and saving a world from the tyranny of the Ice Queen in Narnia. I looked forward to my Saturday escapades to the library on Broadway. Once up the stairs and through the doors , the smell of the old written word was like the aroma of freshed baked pie to me. Sooooo Gooood.
Now, as an adult, my inner brown girl still longs for those crumpled pages and silent moments. However, I have been faced with another challenge, fostering the love of reading in my son. When he was younger, we read constantly. I would search high and low for books that would reflect him and our people in a positive light so that he would have a good sense of himself and the acheivements of our ancestors. One day I came across the book Misoso and was facinated by the tales within. Lele Goro, the first tale quickly became our bed time favorite and I would have to read it almost every night before he went to bed. Now that he is older, he will only read if he has to. I don't understand it. Don't get me wrong, he is an excellent student but he just doesn't have the same love of reading. While I danced through the aisles holding the latest novel, he grumbled about leaving (but he soon found a Matrix Comic Book that held his attention for about ten minutes). I want him to know the joy of escaping into the world of words and imagination. I want him to get the rush of discovering the adventures that lie on the ancient shelves of the local library. I want him to have an appreciation of the written word so that his words can perform somersaults as soon as they are released. I want him to eventually find Barnes, and dance through the aisles like his mother.