I love to read. Love. It. Thanks to Miss Gunkle, my first grade teacher, who gave me a solid foundation (Run, Dick, run. See Dick run after Jane who is too smart and pretty to settle for Dick and his bad haircut.), Mrs. Dunn, my second grade teacher who gave prizes for reading the most books, and Mrs. Reed, my third grade teacher, who read to us every day (she cried when Charlotte died, I did too.), a love of books and reading took root deep inside me.
My mom and dad read a lot too. Dad was never without a book. In fact, I was reading to my dad when he died. I arrived in Dodge City on January 19, 2002, without a book. That in and of itself was odd because a book is the first thing I pack whenever I leave home. I realized I didn't have anything to read so I asked Dad if I could use his library card to check out a book. Of course he said yes. That's about the last thing he ever said.
The book I checked out was "I Thought My Father was God" which is a compliation of short essays put together by NPR's National Story Project. I sat by his bed and began to read. Just like all those hours when I was growing up and I'd read aloud to him. Reading in our family was important. Side note: we took 3 daily newspapers and got a 4th on Sunday. Oh yeah, we were readers.
So, my dad left this world listening to me read. That's pretty cool. Very cool.
Anyway, I love to read and when I got a Kindle it enabled me to carry hundreds of books in my purse. Something to read is always at my fingertips.
Which makes my fingertips very, very happy.
