I used to read a lot, but I don't take the time to read much any more, and I miss it.
The Hoogles and Alexander by Dorothy Langley; illustrated by Cecil Smith |
I still have lots of books, mostly in stacks on the floor and crammed into boxes and plastic totes. I prefer non-fiction (Ponder On This, Of Wolves and Men) but I'm picky when it comes to fiction (I love sci-fi, like William Gibson's Neuromancer and Mona Lisa Overdrive, and fanciful stories such as Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series and Tom Robbins' Jitterbug Perfume). My favorite ones, though, are still the books from my childhood: Eloise in Paris, Nancy Drew mysteries, Alice in Wonderland, Winnie the Pooh, a set of books called A Children's Treasury of Stories, the entire Harry Potter series and The Hoogles and Alexander, an obscure but fascinating fantasy tale lovingly written by Dorothy Langley and beautifully illustrated by Cecil Smith.
(see my March 31, 2013 post, from column on the left )
I learned to read at a very young age because my mother read to me every night. She also got me hooked on classical and Big Band music (until The Beatles came along in 1963, of course). She's been gone a little more than two years now, and the sadness I feel every time I think of her and realize she's no longer here makes my heart hurt. That's when I have to rely on my best memories to get me past the pain of losing her. She was such a good person and the best mom. "I had a mother who read to me..."