Over the holidays our family went to see the movie "Blindsided", and we have since recommended it to others. Early on in the show I suspected that the plot's main struggle was going to be an inablility to read, but not so. Actually, the main character could read but didn't grasp why he would want to; no parent ever opened wide the world of learning by reading to or with him when little. Ferdinand the Bull is a story I plan on bringing home from the library this week. Teenagers aren't beyond enjoying reading activities with mom or dad, and sometimes the simple children's literature is just the right length of book.

It was in a children's literature class at college one day when the realization dawned that my chosen major was a good match, (elementary ed.), just imagining teaching reading. Deeply engrained within childhood memories is a love for books and stories, for the very way our library smelled and looked to three-year-old senses---such excitement about what we would carry home with us each time, souvenirs from far exotic lands and places. Sights and sounds of stories yet undreamed of were ready to be sparked to life by my mother. Thinking about this, it occurs to me that we didn't get to go to the library very often, but rather got alot of mileage out of each trip. Fast forward many years.....I remember with amazement our first precious 7 month-old son responding perfectly on the Little Golden Book page when asked if he could find the kitty; a monumental moment in motherhood.  Author Stickland Gillilan penned these words many years ago:

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be—
I had a Mother who read to me.

Then Elizabeth Ware Pierce added this verse in 1992:

But think of the fate of a different child,
Whose manner is meek, whose temper is mild,
While yet instilled with that same special need,
Was born to a mother who could not read.