My first memories of the written word are like shadows, bouncing from the light of a kerosene lantern as my mother reads. Her voice is full of meaning, emotion, and I am spellbound. Three, maybe four years old, I listen to The Hobbit, and I want to be there, in the pages of that book. I want to be on that great adventure with Bilbo and I want to smell the pungent smoke of Gandalf’s pipe. And in many ways I am there, as the scenes unfold in my mind, painted by my mother’s love of words and the book she holds in her hands.
Chapter after chapter rolls from her tongue, dialogue smooth. She never trips over a word, never hesitates. Slowly, after hours of reading, her voice becomes dry, cracked. Broken. She coughs, and says she’ll continue tomorrow. We beg her to continue. My older brother heats the kettle on the pot belly stove, waiting for the whistle so he can make her a cup of tea: black with lime and honey, just the way she likes it. We cajole. She humors us and continues. Slowly my eyes grow heavy, my mind blurred between story and dream. I drift away, elf songs ringing in my mind. Somehow I have become part of this story and I will never be the same.
My mother loves science fiction and fantasy, so my reading teeth are cut on the likes of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Patricia McKillip, George MacDonald, and Piers Anthony. I don’t understand much of what she reads at first, but I love the way words roll from her tongue. I love the inflection in her voice. I love that she loves what she’s reading.
And the idea dawns on me that I too, want to read. I want to do it on my own. I want to stand before her bookshelf and choose a thick tome with no pictures, and find a quiet place to curl up and discover mysteries in the written word.
“Mommy one day I’m going to read every book in this house,” I tell her.
And I do.
My passion for reading was caught, not taught.
Can you remember when you first fell in love with books?
And how do we pass this love of words on to our children and grandchildren?
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
I remember exactly how I got turned on to reading. My mom read to us from chapter books every night, and she would always leave us hanging, dying to know what happens next. She had to hide the book because we’d search for it so we could read for ourselves. Now I do the same with my kids.
I had a great aunt who gave me an award winning book each Christmas and introduced me to the best children’s books. My parents also took me to the library on a regular basis. Some of my teachers read aloud each day. I still remember hearing my fifth grade teacher read Charlotte’s Web aloud to us each day after lunch.
I loved reading aloud to my five children. We homeschooled, so reading aloud was always a part of our day. Those are some of my happiest memories now that they are all grown and on their own. My husband also enjoyed reading aloud to the family. Oh, the wonderful stories we all shared together! There is a special closeness and wonder that happens when stories are read aloud and shared as a family. Make time for this! Here are a few of my favorites: Heidi, The Winged Watchman, The Chronicles of Narnia, Little House on the Prairie series, the Little Britches series, Little Women, Charlottes Web, The Bronze Bow, Island of the Blue Dolphins, and so many more.
I agree with Memarie above – I learned to love reading b/c we didn’t have a tv growing up – we read together each night as a family. Our family worked our way through many book series, many of which we still remember and talk about even now. I think the more I can read with my children, and have them see me read, the more they will love to read. I also try to give my children books as gifts so they will see them as treasures, not just things we have around our house.