A Childhood of Books
My childhood was filled with books. Our houses always had a room dedicated to books – the den, the library, the study, the office. Someplace with a lot of shelves and treasured books. The Darien house had a “den”, with built in bookshelves and a quirky 1940s “corner” fireplace. One area contained children’s books, but nothing was off limits. I would climb the cabinets to reach books, and, while many were of no interest whatsoever, others were fascinating. These antique “family” books were on the shelves, and I recall flipping through the blue book Wee Wee Songs for Our Little Pets (1864). While the poems are dry as toast and full of 1860s childhood lessons, it had pictures! Some were even colored in by a childish hand, which amused me to wonder what ancestor had been so naughty.
The books came down from my paternal grandfather’s family. As there are three “Watts S. Humphreys” to contend with – my father, grandfather and great grandfather – discussing who owned what is an exercise in annoyance. The oldest book, dated 1757, is in very poor shape – both covers have fallen off. I will need to hunt down a book restorer (likely an expensive process). The book, Mr. Hoyle’s Games, was gifted to WSH, undated but clearly written in fountain pen so I am guessing it was to my great grandfather WSH (1844-1910). I did look up the gentleman who gifted the book, Colonel d’Autremont, Jr (1855-1919). He was an attorney as well as mayor of Duluth, MN so likely he and my great grandfather knew each other through their legal work. And possibly they liked to play card games!
The 1838 book, The Laws of Etiquette, does not have any inscription. It may have been picked up later, but given the family’s tendency to save heirlooms, I suspect it came down from my great great grandfather Thomas Humphrey (1802-1839) who immigrated to the United States from England. My wistful vision of Thomas bringing it with him on the boat from England was promptly dispelled as the book was published in Philadelphia. Drat. Thomas did not live a long life, but what struck me is the clear error in the dates on the family tree. Thomas could not have fathered WSH in 1844 if he died in 1839! That will require some detective work as it clearly needs revising.
The children’s book I remember from my childhood, Wee Wee Songs for Our Little Pets (1864), likely belonged to Carolyn Magofflin (1861-1946), my great grandmother. She was the second wife of WSH (1844-1910). As she was 17 when engaged to the much older widower, her family sent her to a “finishing school” in Canada for a year so she would be 18 when they married. My hunch is the book was hers, saved by her youngest son WSH (1890-1968) and passed down through our family.
While books are important to my family, I struggled to read as a child. As I was a “naughty” child, my parents thought I was being obstinate, and had me repeat 2nd grade. My father was diagnosed as “dyslexic” in the 1930s. Unfortunately in the 1960s I was not. The root problem with dyslexic children is their difficulty learning to read (and spell for that matter). And while I had all the telltale signs, back in the 1960s dyslexia was considered to only affect boys. I should note the term is no longer used, falling under the umbrella of “learning disabilities” now. And it is only recently that girls are diagnosed similarly to boys.
I was in college when I realized I was “dyslexic”, though no medical doctor has diagnosed me. Even I could not make heads or tails of my college class notes, with all the flipped around letters and truncated words! I was lucky the Darien schools utilized phonics to teach all children during the 1960s and 1970s, so I was taught in the way still recommended for teaching dyslexics to read. Of 7 children, I was the only one who struggled with academics, and spelling was a lifelong annoyance. When I would ask my mother how to spell certain words, she would always say “look it up in the dictionary”. How, pray tell, is someone to look something up when they can’t spell it in the first place?! In high school I would write long papers, leaving blanks when I did not know how to spell the word I wanted to use (a curse for someone who reads a great deal but can’t spell worth a damn). Amusingly, I recall sometimes forgetting to revise the “blanks” with actual words, and one inspiring teacher wrote me a review saying he liked the paper, and gave me a “----” on it - he left the grade blank! Ok, fine, I learned my lesson, but it remains a challenge to spell.
One of my sons is “dyslexic”, we got him help throughout his school years, and he became an engineer. One nephew similarly struggled and also became an engineer. My father was a successful engineer, so I wonder about a correlation between dyslexic brains and the need to organize things logically. I studied literature, art and history in college, but landed in banking which was a rather rude left turn. I caught on, but never enjoyed the work. I realize now that my dyslexia created a strong need to “organize”, and thus quilting suits me perfectly! And the idea of using visual images to spin stories also fits my nature to find meaning and make sense of things. While my father wrote over a dozen books, I promise they are mind numbing unless you enjoy software engineering. Possibly someday I will add a book to the family archives, but as yet undecided. And for those of you worrying, the owl was a thrift store find that I could not leave behind. He is a heavy clay sculpture and keeps his eyes on me as I sit typing. Owls symbolize wisdom, intelligence and protection. I’ve decided his 1970s vibe and huge eyes wanting to understand things around him reflect my childhood, and thus I will name him Humphrey.