Da recites, a life of reading.

Da put books into my hands. When I was about 7 or 8 years old, he came home with three books. I remember the large hardcover was about the Seven Wonders of the World. I could not read these, yet clutched them, and turned pages, and studied all the photos.

It was amazing that he did this, in some ways. We had next to nothing, wore hand-me-downs,owed the landlord and the grocer, and had no phone or car! Yet, somehow he had acquired books! And several issues of National Geographic!

Da had an eight grade education. Leaving school to work on the farms and earn his keep. Either the quality of education was better way back then, or he was an unusual man.

Da entranced us with his recitastions of most of Robert Frost's poems, with many passages from, 'The Raven', from the 'Wreck of the Hesperus', and all of Longfellow's, 'Hiawatha' .

To Da, I owe my reading. My older sister, being left-handed, was forced to be right-handed in school, between this and I think some Dyslexia, she was having difficulties reading. Da would help her in the evenings, sitting in the kitchen at the round oak table. I, at four years of age, would hover as close as I could and take in what I could before being gruffly sent off.

I earned to read at four! By six, I was reading as a 9 year old. By 9, as a 14 year old.

The library was a bit more than two miles away. By 9, I was allowed to walk there and back. Often carrying stacks of books 1/3 my height, I made this trip every two weeks.

I had to get permission from the Librarian to enter the stacks for young adults, and adults. She was challenged to match my age and interests, with something suitable to my reading level. I skipped over all the young girl literature. She put, 'The Black Stallion Mysteries' into my hands.

Once home, I would stretch out in the sunshine on my mother's bed and read voraciously, for hours! Eyestrain and migraines were intense, but I wouldn't quit. This was my life, through the pages into other cultures, others' lives.

My other reading hero was my third grade teacher. She taught us how to respect pages. I remember the sense of pride (probably my only experience with pride back then) I felt, standing in front of the class, holding open a large hard-covered book, and reading aloud. I took great pleasure from our class textbook, 'If I Were Going'.

Here, on Google, I am re-calling and listing the books I have read on Goodreads.