On Reading

When I was three I was called either "Candy" or more likely "Sissy". My brother couldn't say either one of those so he called me "Annie".

The first time I remember understanding that books were about words (my grandma and mother loved to tell stories, but the written word wasn't something I knew about) I was three years old sitting on the porch swing on Beulah Road with my mother and twin brother, Craig.

This was the first and only time our mother ever read to us. The large thick book had a painted teddy bear on front and the title (I still have the book) was "Bedtime Stories". As my mom started to read I suddenly realized that there was something on the page that she could understand. It was so exciting.

For a long time after that I would open the book and look at the pictures and words. It felt like everything on the page could jump out into my brain and I would know how to read.

From then on I loved reading, although there was only the bedtime story book available. Even today I often feel grateful that I can read, and I don't take it for granted.