This is an opinion column

Once there were six; now there are five. One left this earth just last week. I called us Beach Readers, but we read other places as well, back in our home towns. A group of high school friends, some who met each other in the long ago days of first grade, got together every year at a friend’s beach house for a few days of swimming, sunning, story telling, and reading. Conversations started with “Remember when?”

Most of us were in reading circles in grade one, grouped by our ability to stammer out the sounds that somehow made words and told a simple story. if you were a Red Bird, you caught on quickly; if you were a Blue Bird, you needed a little help, and God help the Yellow Birds who must have dreaded reading circles since they guessed at every single word.

Our first grade teacher was not the kind to soothe or help children who were struggling. We watched in fear as she stalked around the circles, listening to our small voices as we hoped we got the pronunciation right. If we didn’t, she uttered some sharp words about being held back in school. As far as I know, nobody was held back. I don’t believe in scaring children, but I guess her stern method worked.

In spite of that rude introduction to the reading life, we learned to love it. Most of us grew up to be readers of novels and members of book clubs. Most of us packed some paperbacks to pass around at the beach. By the end of our stay, the pages were damp or dog-eared.The paperback covers might be torn. But we kept reading, out there on the beach where the chairs were comfortable enough to hold a reader who might doze off right in the middle of a chapter but pick up the story line as soon as she woke up.

Nobody reads serious books at the beach. No “Crime and Punishment” or “1984.” Beach books didn’t necessarily have complex themes or literary merit. But they could hook you from the first chapter with their descriptions of beautiful blondes who fell in love with hunky guys who stopped on a deserted highway to help them change a tire, or women who were clever enough to foil a plot by the bad guys and save the day.

We read mysteries, thrillers, best sellers, and historical fiction. In later years, we read on Kindles, iPhones, and Nooks. We passed around reading glasses if someone had left hers in the room. As beach books became more acceptable as a genre, book stores accommodated readers with whole sections of them. One chain book store, Books- A-Million, calls them “Cozy Reads”. These are the thrillers, mysteries, and romance novels you throw in your suitcase, zip through, and leave at the condo for the next reader to enjoy.

Another local bookstore, The Snail on the Wall, has a section called “Paperbacks for Poolside Reading.” It features escape literature; entertaining literature, and what used to be called “light reading.” It takes the reader away from the problems and worries of real life, and who doesn’t need that right now?

I live hours away from the Beach Readers, way up in North Alabama. But once you’re a reader, you’re a reader for life. If you live somewhere long enough, people know this about you, the way they know your hair color and height and can spot you across the room. After a funeral today, a friend pulled me aside. We talked about the family that was mourning and ways we could help them.

Then, on the way to the parking lot, she said, “I’ve got a book for you. I think you’ll love it.”

Contact Beth Thames at [email protected]