I know the title may look deceiving, but this isn't actually a complete letter to my grandma. We need introductions first. For those of you who know Debbie, well, then you have probably heard her say exactly what she thinks about whatever situation she is in. That's what she does. She is very caring but very opinionated and extremely strong-willed. She has had a huge part in shaping who I am as a person today. Not only did I inherit some of her attributes, I also inherited her love for reading.
Growing up, going to grandma's house meant spending time in her little library corner, flipping through her bigger novels before picking up my Dr. Seuss stories and investigating other children's books that she had set aside for me. As my reading became more advanced, I quickly picked up short novels and various series of books. At a young age, I was reading at a high school level and honestly probably reading about things that I had no business reading about until I was older. This love for reading transferred into school. My favorite days at Pinetta Elementary were when we got to visit the library as a class. Eventually, I became such good friends with the librarians and other staff that I was allowed to come in and quite literally sit in the aisle while I finished the R.L. Stine Fear Street books that they seemingly had hundreds of. This is where my school performance skyrocketed.
Accelerated Reader (AR) had no match against me, as I learned that I could skim through Junie B. Jones books without actually comprehending them on a deeper level, and still make 100s on all the AR tests. My friends were getting me to help them on their tests as well (sorry, Mrs. Missy), since to them, it seemed like I had read every book in the library. Throughout middle and high school, the most emotion I showed to my parents was when I was curled up on the couch, immersed in a realistic fiction novel when suddenly a favorite character of mine was devastatingly killed off by the author (“The Fault in Our Stars” had me crying for 30 minutes and my parents didn't know what to do).
But then college happened. I brought my books but they were stuffed into and around my nightstand, waiting to be read. I remember reading two novels my freshman year, after which I told my roommates how the storyline changed and climaxed in an excited tone, and they were just happy that I had actually come out of my room or off of the balcony to finally talk to them after being immersed in the fictional world all day. However, this summer, I have found (and made) much more time for reading. One book in particular sparked the inspiration for this column, which I shared with Grandma Debbie.
The book in question is titled, “Anxious People” by Fredrik Backman. As the title entails, the author describes the lives and thoughts of a few different, anxious characters, who are all tied together by a failed bank robbery-turned hostage situation. But, in the midst of all the chaos and viewpoint changes, the author creates a connection to not only the fictional group of people, but to the reader as well. Of course, I won't spoil everything for you because what kind of writer would I be to do so? But, I will tell you this: most humans struggle with some form of anxiety and depression at some point in their life. In these times, we feel so desperately alone that we have no idea how many people are actually feeling the exact same thing at the exact same time. This book helps the reader realize just that: we aren't alone. I recommend this book to everyone who reads and enjoys my columns. It has become my favorite book that I have ever read in my life.
This is where Grandma Debbie comes back in. When I started reading “Anxious People,” I began tearing up by page 23. Not because of how devastating the book was (it's not a sob story by any means), but because of how well the author portrays human emotion from people of all ages and backgrounds. I immediately sent it to grandma, knowing that she would probably be the only person in my family who would enjoy it just as much as I did. I sent her an excerpt from page 101 that left her speechless and sealed the deal that she would, in fact, be reading it when I was done. How great is that? I am beyond thankful for my grandma and all that she has taught me. But I think I will forever be most grateful for our shared love of reading. I could fill up this entire column with the love I have for both her and books, but I would be taking away from my peers' space. But don't you worry, dear reader, this topic will be continued in the coming weeks. For now, get your hands on a copy of this book, tell your grandma you love her and continue growing in your journey. See y'all next week.