I’ve spent the better part of my life with my nose in a book. I used to get in trouble from my parents by being too addicted and immersed, and my mother would ground me by taking away my books. The horror!! Now, in a digital world, I can only imagine that ten-year old me would have stashed a myriad of electronic libraries throughout my house, Gothic tales tucked away in fireplaces, Middle-Earth hiding in a breadbox in the pantry, luscious romances shoved under mattresses, all just waiting for me to break the ban on reading and sneak them back into my life. What my mother didn’t understand is that I will always find a way to have my Daily Dose of Words.
In high school and college I was voracious, and I still read about a hundred books a year. (Yep, I’m serious!) My students laugh because I will work reading days into the weekly schedule and then they will watch how quickly I turn the pages, disbelieving that I am reading that quickly. My favorite genres are historical fiction, fantasy and world-building mythic tales. Lately, though, I’ve been discovered reading books that involve hockey.
Anyone who knew me two years ago would have refuted this statement, laughing and in intense disbelief. Me - - reading HOCKEY? Me - - admitting that I liked a SPORT? I can see them now, looking at my closet with the newly acquired Ducks jerseys, the closet full of “We’re All Josh Manson!” and “Rak-City” t-shirts. They would deny that I bought the “Quack Quack Bitches!” shirt during playoffs, because they know I do not cuss. (Fooled them!!)
So, my bee-spirit, buzzing socially around my usual literary, historical re-enactment, Geekdom, and super-hero-filled worlds, too busy for yet another thing... carved out an entirely new passion for the Anaheim Ducks. Introduced by a friend, we went to a game in 2016 and sat in the 200-section of the HC. My eyes saw the gladiator-like sport and tried to understand the rules. All the warrior texts I studied in school informed me that this was modern-day jousting, and I was okay with it. More than okay.... quickly Rickard Rakell became young Parzifal, the paladin of the ice. Flash forward to now: I am more than vocal, the cheerleader in my section, running around across the aisles high-fiving the other fans after the Ducks score. My body jumps up, and I yell like a stupid fool, until I have to try to teach while hoarse the next day. I did not know that the Garden of my heart had room for an entirely new patch of flowers- all orange, black and gold. I also did not know that my heart had room for the squires of the sport, namely Jake, CJ, George, Louis and Felix (and my friend Missy), who have kindly tried to explain the rules of this new arena to me. You made me and my husband feel incredibly welcome, and we are grateful.
I call myself Bonnie Bee, because I buzz around energetically, sharing the gifts that I gather along my paths. It is the aspect of myself that I am both the most proud and have been teased about the greatest: my social appetite, my kindness.
I am older than most of you here in this space, and possibly my older-soul doesn’t recognize age. I am happy to be the person who edits your work and tries to understand the pesky mathematics. Just be patient. I’ll understand your personal quirks soon enough and I’ll try not to tease too much. In gathering the pollen of life, I gather friends and memories. I’m sure there will be many, many experiences here to add to my garden of experiences.