Hiya, everyone. I was told by my Karl that I should start my lessons about myself by explaining why I love to read and learn as much as I do. Since I figured on taking you back to when my mom was here and loving life with me in it, this seemed like the best place to start. At least that is how she made me feel. Loved. All the time. The kind of love where you could trip over your own feet, spill something all over the floor, and still feel like the most important person in the world. So we were in the kitchen...
“You know, my Jungle Jewels, we need to start school for you soon, since we have put it off for so long. You have to get me to teach you, or you will always be the big girl in school. And I know, Julie, that being the standout kid in any class means you will hate it there. So we will make this fun, my little one, but we will also be sure you learn because you need to love it as I did. So I will be leaving you here today to go talk to the ladies at the bookstore in town about placing an order for you. So I will see you in a few hours, my Jungle princess.”
So Mom got back with a box. Not a bag, everyone. A whole box. I still remember sitting there staring at it because it looked like treasure to me. Most little girls would have wanted dolls or candy. Me? I was already trying to peek between the flaps to see what secrets were hiding inside. Looking back now, I think that was the first time learning ever gave me butterflies. My mom had this way of making everything feel magical. She could have handed me a math book and somehow made it feel like we were about to go hunting for pirate treasure. I honestly think she could have made tax forms exciting if she tried hard enough. You see, she did not just tell me, here are the books. She went through each one and told me a story about the secrets it had inside. Then we drew covers to protect those secrets, showing what we wanted evil people to see so they would never want such a terrible book. So, as you can see, a boring day of school books became a game, or even a contest, to see who could hide the magic better. Even when Karl gave me that three-thousand-page behemoth of a book to read years later, I put a fun cover on it of two people playing chess while their brains were being tested. Poor Karl probably thought I was actually studying. Really, I was decorating the mystery first.
So Mom went through all the books in like two full days. Then it was time to start learning. Almost. We did need groceries first.
The simple truth is that when Mom got an idea in her head, it became everyone's thoughts. So all the way through the store we talked about what starts with what and how so many things are the same but different. We talked about words. We talked about colors. We talked about signs hanging from ceilings. We talked about why apples and oranges both counted as fruit but looked nothing alike. Then, when we got to the front, she handed me the change purse and had me figure out what was needed. Looking back now, I realize she was teaching me long before I ever opened a book. She was teaching me how to notice things. How to compare things. How to ask questions. How to be curious. I guess I wanted to put this down on paper so I could tell the world I had a great mom, and even learning was a day of excitement. So I learned at a pace I was comfortable with and moved through all the books very easily until my mom was taken away from me.
That is when school became a mess. I hated the teachers always making comments about how I did things differently and strangely because I was not taught in the school system of rules, but in a home of excitement. That is what Dad has never understood. I did not dislike school because of the school. I disliked it because my loving mom was not there. School lost the magic. The lessons were still there, but the wonder was gone.
So that is it. You now know what this file is about. No witches. No monsters. No strange realms. This is about why I know as much as I do and how I can discover solutions like no one else I have ever known.
So, I know what you are thinking. Everyone can read, right? And you would be mostly right. The real mystery is not whether you can read. The mystery is whether you read words or thoughts on the page. I guess that is the easiest way to put it. You see, I was taught the letters, how they went together, and what they meant, just like all of you. That was until I got to the Spot books. I was never reading to see what Spot did. I was reading to find the secret of the ball in the book. I know that sounds odd, so let me explain.
Mom gave me a book, and we went through it because it was my first one. When I got good at it, she asked, “Did you catch the secret, Jules?”
Well, no. I was trying to read the book by myself. That was the goal. I read it. Success. Done. Right?
Wrong.
Mom told me to read it again and find the secret. So I looked through it and finally said, “I can not. What do you mean?”
That was when she sat me down and said, “Everything has things you can not see or might not want to, so always think between the pages of what is there, dear.”
Now, that sounds mysterious, and believe me, Mom loved sounding mysterious. She was very proud of herself when she managed to confuse me. What she meant was that I was supposed to see what was not being shown to me. She turned it into a game. With the first few books, it was things like where did the ball go, how did it get there, what happened between these two pictures, why is this character smiling now when they were sad before? I had to think about what was missing and make the book bigger than what was printed on the page.
I still remember the first real book that did this to me. It was called Sleepy Dog. The question was simple.
“What is missing from the dog's life, Jules?”
I read that little book several times. At first, I thought it was only there to make you feel successful when you finished it. But the whole story is about a dog dreaming of things he wants to do and never doing them. He keeps dreaming about them over and over. I do not know what the author intended, but to Mom and me it became a lesson. If you do not make your dreams real, they come back again and again until you finally face them. Thirty years later, I still remember that little book.
I also remember my first Dr. Seuss book was Green Eggs and Ham. It had more words, and I loved it, but it was not as fun because the secret was shared at the end. There was less mystery. I liked reading it, but it did not make my thoughts dance around the room the same way. I wanted questions. I wanted puzzles. I wanted things hidden under the surface.
By the time I was still young but wanted to read everything, I was given a special book that I still have today. It is sitting on my shelf right now in terrible condition. The cover is worn. The pages are bent. There are probably crumbs inside. But it is still there. I also still have others packed away in boxes. Pizza Pat. A Crack in a Track. So many others.
Then we started having even more fun. I still have one big book that I absolutely adore. The original Golden Book version of Uncle Remus stories. It lets your mind wander. It makes you ask questions. It makes reading feel alive. Even Dad got involved when that one came along.
With phrases like, “Brer Coon an Brer Possum wuz amblin’ along throo de wood, just havin fun with it.”
Yes, I just grabbed my copy and typed what was first on the page. The fact is, it is written differently. Maybe wrong to some people. Maybe unusual. But it opened my eyes to something important. Just because someone does not speak the way you do does not mean they have nothing worth hearing. There is wisdom hidden in unexpected places.
Anyway, this has become a statement I did not intend to make, but I am leaving it in because that is where my thoughts wandered.
So you get the idea. Every book has a reason. Every story has a purpose. And what is not said might be the most important thing of all. If your mind spends its whole life finding what is not there, then it stands to reason that when a puzzle arrives that does not speak in words, you can still solve it. You can find meaning in lines, patterns, symbols, or clues. Just like Greg's notes helped us remove some of the witch's most dangerous weapons before they could be used.
I guess that is why I am writing this file. To explain what my parents did that made me the puzzle wizard I became. They taught me to find what cannot be seen.
Maybe if these techniques are used by other kids someday, we will no longer be living in the dark. Maybe more people will learn to see what is hiding behind the obvious.
Before I leave this section, I need to tell you something funny. I recently noticed something in the front of my favorite book that I somehow missed for decades. It was from Walt Disney himself. I sat there staring at it and thinking, “Julie, you have spent your whole life finding hidden things and somehow missed the giant writing in the front of the book.”
The statement said, “For generations of readers, young and old, have learned to love the laughter and wisdom in the tales of Uncle Remus. The pranks of his Brer Rabbit have become a real part of American folklore.”
I think that says it perfectly. Reading should be fun. Reading should make you laugh. Reading should make you wonder. Reading should make you ask questions. Reading should make your mind chase little mysteries around corners just to see where they go.
You see, I was raised in the jungles, but that does not mean I lived without books or ideas. Quite the opposite. Books were adventures. Books were mysteries. Books were secret maps hidden in plain sight. They taught me that the most important thing is not always what is on the page. Sometimes it is what is missing from the page. Sometimes it is the question nobody asked. Sometimes it is the tiny detail everyone else walked past.
And if you can learn to see those things, my new sleuths, then you can find truths that other people never even realize are there. That is the real secret Mom taught me. Not how to read words. How to read everything.