When I was a child one of my most favorite books to read was Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry. While going through my Facebook feed yesterday morning I saw a report by PBS about the 90th year of the swim of the ponies of Chincoteague. Then I saw a report from NBC about a sweet boy in Salt Lake City, Utah asking his mailperson for junk mail for him to read because he no way to get to a library or money to buy books. His book shelves are now very full of books after the mailperson put out the plea.
These two stories reminded me of where my love of reading came from. Reading was something my mother always insisted on. She read to us and we read, read, read, all three of us. The Misty book I still have and recently found again in a box from storage. Granny and I read the book together and it made a huge impression on me. I remember that book so very well even as a 59 year old woman it is a memory I cherish. There are certain books I read as a child that are still a strong memory. We used to go to the library a lot when we were young. The shelves and shelves of books were intoxicating to me and I still love to own books and look at then. Going to a book store is a dangerous place for me, and my credit card. Books like The Boxcar Children, Little House on the Prairie, Helen Keller's biography, That Quail Robert, and many more. I can NOT wait to share with Rio my love of reading. She already goes to the library and we read books all the time. Reading a good book is a wonderful pathway to the whole world.