Saying Good-bye to Old Friends

It’s very hard to say good-bye to friends who have been with me for forty years or more but sometimes, it is the wisest and most unselfish thing to do. I mean, would you rather see new sights and new faces, or be stuck in a dark and dusty garage for the next four decades? In answering that question, I decided it was time to let go and think of others instead of myself.

Now, before anyone jumps to the conclusion that I’m talking about people, let me say I’m not. I’m talking about books. Children’s books. Some are books that belonged to my son; some are books I bought while I taught kindergarten children. I’m giving them away to my dear friend Helen who, in turn will take them to a friend of hers in a far-off northwestern state who will share them with other children.  Saying good-bye, no matter for what noble reasons, is sometimes a hard thing to do.

For instance, there is The Little Engine That Could, by Watty Piper. It is a board book and Nathan loved it. I’ve lost track of how many times I read it to him. It stays. So does Jack and the Beanstalk. It’s a specialty book that forms a carousel and it used to hang from the ceiling of my school room, hopefully enticing children to look up and realize that reading will help them climb to great heights. Can’t part with it. Mrs. Duck’s Lovely Day and The Animals’ Tea Party were some of Matt’s favorites, read to him mostly by his grandma, my mom. They’ll be nice for my great-grandchildren at some date in the future. Sara loved Lamont, the Lonely Monster, a Hallmark Lift and Look book. Nope, it can’t go either. I’ll keep And To Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street, by Dr. Seuss  because it isn’t mine. It belongs to my niece Sue Ann, loaned to me about forty two years ago and somehow, in returning books, I overlooked this one. Sue, if you want the book now, let me know.

But, Ferdinand the Bull, by Robert Lawson,  being the gentle soul who liked to “sit just quietly and smell the flowers” will doubtless find new flowers to sniff and a favorite shade tree in a distant state. I remember reading White Snow Bright Snow by Alvin Tresselt to my kindergarteners each winter, when snow lay outside our Oklahoma kindergarten room. That book will feel right at home in a cooler clime. The Doorbell Rang by Pat Hutchins will speak to other youngsters in today’s society as much as it did to five-year olds many years ago.

There are several other books that will be going to a new home; some I once read to my own little boy and some I read to the boys and girls of other people. I’m quite sure they will still delight, instruct, and maybe bring a bit of sunshine into other young lives.

Though I suffer a few pangs of regret, it would be utterly selfish to let these trustworthy and long-suffering friends languish on a shelf when they could be having new adventures and brightening the day of other children and adults. So, good-bye, dear books. Our association has been a long and happy one and I wish you many more years in the hands of others who will love you.