sorcelerity

When Doug Bornemann was a boy, his mother would faithfully trundle her three sons into the family’s candy-apple red Ford Galaxy 500 for bimonthly excursions from their home in rural Stockbridge to the Chilton public library-a tiny one-room affair tucked away in one of those solid brick public-service buildings so ubiquitous in small towns. To a more sophisticated observer, it might have appeared insignificant, institutional, perhaps even a bit dingy, but to a lad who didn’t know any better, it was a room of hidden wonders and magic places, of unimaginable lives and exotic universes. Among its treasures-dog-eared copies of Charles Schulz’s Peanuts, Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and musty copies of James Blish’s Star Trek novels, in hard cover. With his little pink card, he solved mysteries with the Hardy Boys and Jupiter Jones, took flight with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and wept for Margot when she missed her moment in the sun. He even learned to grok (or at least he imagined he did). Those seemingly innocent trips seduced him into becoming a reader, which had inevitable and profound repercussions on the rest of his life. His love of words propelled him through college, law school, and a doctorate in biology. In retrospect, he suspects that quite possibly may have been his mother’s plan all along. Through his writing, he hopes someday to reach another young mind, and eventually, maybe even help to make a mother proud.