I Saw the Light
I’m told I learned to read at three-and-a-half while sitting on my grandfather’s lap while he read the comics to me. I obviously don’t have any memories of that, but, like most of us, neither do I have any memories of not being able to read. Unlike many (most?) of us, however, I don’t have any memories of not wanting to read.
As an elementary child, I lived less than a mile away from a library. The library had a ten book at a time limit, which I discovered by trying to exceed it. I read just about anything I could lay my hands on; kid-sized biographies of two babes (Ruth and Didrikson) and countless others, all of the Nancy Drew’s that existed at the time (forget the Hardy Boys, I was far more interested in the 18-year old female detective), the random book on fractions,1 and book after book after book after book on World War II.