As a little girl I loved to read. I read so much that I was three grade levels ahead of my own grade reading level. My vocabulary was quite advanced. I would participate in reading contests.
My parents really limited the amount of TV my brother and I watched. I didn’t need TV. I had a world of imagination in my books.
In junior high in my reading class we were able to pick any book we wanted and write a report. I picked Jane Eyre. In college as an English Lit minor in one of my classes we were assigned to read Jane Eyre. I was assigned that at the age of 21 or so but had already read it about 10 years earlier.
For seven years of my life I got paid to read. I was a copy editor at two different newspapers: one in Salem, Ore. and the other in Phoenix.
Since I read all day at work I really wasn’t into it in my free time. As the years went on I started to read less and less. I am embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t think I read one book last year.
When we were in Las Vegas about 2 1/2 weeks ago I took a book with me: The Help. It was a great book and I really got into reading it and just reading again.
I am now on my third book since the middle of March. It feels good to read. I love it. I love the accomplishment of finishing a book. I love caring about the characters. I love using my imagination.
My free time is very limited. And sometimes I just want to veg on the couch in front of the TV. If I am not too tired I will read a few pages in my book or a few chapters.
As my Curious George bookmark says in the picture, Reading is Fun!