Summer evokes pleasure, be it a vacation, lighter work load, or, in my case, more time for reading.
During my adolescent years when pop-star David Cassidy held me in rapt attention, my father provided a wonderful discursion on Sunday afternoons as we read our favorite book of the moment together.
This love of the printed word followed me to middle school when my homeroom teacher held a reading worm contest. Each student’s name was placed on a construction paper circle. Upon completion of reading a book, the title was added to a circle next to the student’s name. The rules were simple. The student with the longest worm at the end of the month won.
I got busy reading and quickly, my circles started adding up although I had competition. A young man in class announced he would win the contest as he won every other academic competition in school. His goal in life was to be the President of the United States. Dressing for success, he carried a black leather briefcase to school. Soon, we were neck and neck, or worm and worm.
The final week approached—we were down to our last book. I chose Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Mr. President chose Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. I was hoping he would have chosen something more difficult like Oliver Wendell Holmes’s abridged version of legal opinions. He’d know this fictional work backways and sideways and underways. Great. Now I was talking like Willie Wonka.
Our teacher announced we would give an oral presentation of our final selection. Mr. President volunteered to go first, a classic political strategy to unnerve one’s opponent. He sailed through, making it look so easy, like Kennedy in the Nixon-Kennedy debates.
I felt like Nixon, weak, pale, and confused. Panic overtook me and I couldn’t remember who Jonathan was. He had wings. Yes, he had wings. He was a bird. Okay, things were coming together. I was stalling. The class was staring. Mr. President was glaring while straightening his clip-on tie. Closing my eyes tightly, I was back in my bedroom reading with Dad about a young and naïve seagull who believed he could do better. A bird punished for his personal choices, yet liberated above his peers by creating his own journey and inspiring others to do the same. Thinking about Jonathan comforted me. I was no intellectual match for Mr. President and that was okay. I could fly anyway. I’d take my own path even if it wasn’t the road to the White House.
Silence. Then the teacher muttered something about my thoughtful analysis. What analysis? Was I thinking out loud? Did I call my competitor “Mr. President?” The teacher announced I won the contest, a first for me. In disbelief, I thanked everyone saying winning didn’t matter. Who was I kidding? I beat the the future leader of the free world! Yet, glory is a fleeting prize as the teacher told us to return to our seats and open our math books.
Mr. President went on to realize many accomplishments, including graduation from Harvard. He’s not President…yet, but is a successful lawyer in the Midwest. In the meantime, it’s a beautiful day in Ocala as we’ve begun the Third Annual Mangan Family Reading Worm Contest with multicolored circles spread across the kitchen’s bulletin board. My son is leading by a worm after completing the Chronicles of Narnia, but Gillian just checked out Little Women and can’t put it down. Better watch out. This has the makings of a terrific summer.