Reading is one of my favorite things to do. This wasn't always true. When I was a child, I hated to read. I'm not sure why. I was a good student in school, but don't recall loving to go to the library to check out books to read for enjoyment. Perhaps to write a report, but otherwise the library was not a part of my life. I would say, and I'm not blaming anyone simply stating the facts, that my lack of enthusiasm for books was because reading was not a priority in my home. My parents worked hard to feed my sister and me and to provide our needs. But that's not a valid point. The lack of reading material did not affect my sister. She loved to read: Nancy Drew, horse books, Bobbsey Twins. (I need to read some of those stories one day.) I suppose it's something inside each of us that determines our preferences. If we want to read we will.
When others talk about the books they loved as a child, I'm blank. I have none. Fairy tales fascinated me though. Every Saturday morning I'd listen on the radio (we had no TV until I was in high school) to a program called "Let's Pretend". There I met Cinderella, Snow White, and other fantasy characters.The first novel I remember enjoying and not reading to write a book report on is Gone With the Wind. It's still my favorite.
Fast forward a few years. Today, a stack of books at least a foot high sit on my bedside table, waiting their turn for me to devour their contents. Another stack of magazines patiently wait in the den. The carpet waits to be vacuumed. The kitchen waits to be mopped. The furniture waits to be dusted and clothes wait to be washed. As for cooking--maybe I'll get around to it, after I've finished that book.
Thanks for strolling down memory lane with me today.
Happy reading to you all.