Island Med Student

This week is going to be a stressful one. I have exactly one week off from the hospital, and during this week, I have to move the rest of my belongings from an apartment in Baltimore, Maryland to my parents’ farm in Virginia for storage. I have a few very heavy pieces of furniture and a bunch of other random belongings. It was 90 degrees yesterday when I started packing, and it’s supposed to get up to 90 degrees again today. I have no air conditioning in my apartment, nor in my car. So, let’s get to my point here.

Yesterday I began the packing process by placing all of my books into cardboard boxes. My books (not counting the ones I have in New York) filled up 13 boxes (see photo below). Now I have to get these 13 boxes loaded onto a Uhaul truck, along with the rest of my belongings. You could say that I’m not looking forward to this task.

So, why on earth do I even have 13 boxes worth of books, you might ask. Well, to answer that question, I have to go back to my childhood. My parents’ farmhouse was literally overflowing with books. We had two dedicated “libraries,” and pretty much every other room in the house was packed, wall-to-wall with books. My parents are book junkies. I was surrounded by all these books while growing up as a child. I have many fond memories of randomly picking a book off the shelf, and reading the whole thing in one day. When I would complain to my parents that I was bored because there was no television, my dad would suggest that I read the encyclopedias. I would get a little mad at him for a moment, but then I would pick a letter and start reading.

Now that I am older and looking back on my childhood, I realize the powerful effect all these books had on my life. I became a very fast reader. I became addicted to books. It made me a curious person. Having the wide variety of books made me question authority. I don’t like to accept anything at face value. I enjoy researching and investigating. Reading eventually gave way to writing. Now I can barely go an entire day without writing something. I enjoy communicating. I value people who are effective communicators. Books have undoubtedly had a huge influence on the person I’ve become.

Now, back to my 13 boxes of books. I’ve kept almost every textbook and book that I’ve ever read. Many times, I think about getting rid of them, which would definitely save me a lot of headache. But then I think about my own kids. Someday I would like to have children. I realize that by the time my kids are old enough to read, paper books might be obsolete. Perhaps there will be no more libraries. Maybe everyone will only read information electronically. But I can’t help but think we’ll be losing something. I love the feeling of picking up a book, cracking it open to a random page, and just reading whatever happens to pop up. I love the smell of old and new books. I love the feeling of the paper in my hands, and the crinkling sound it makes as I turn the pages.

My kids might call me old fashioned. They might laugh at their mother who has medical textbooks from 20 years ago on the shelves in her kitchen. But they will have them. If they ever get past how old fashioned the paper books are, they might one day randomly pick a book off the shelf and crack it open. And they might just actually learn something. And they might just actually like it.

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