I have so much to be grateful for in my life, so I would like to spend the month of November 2017 discussing the blessings I have in my life. Everyday this month I will be posting a short article about what I am grateful for. Sometimes life gets s...
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DAY TWENTY-SEVEN - TODAY I AM GRATEFUL FOR A MOTHER WHO READ TO ME.
Today I am grateful for a mother who read to me. I happened to get to speak to a childhood friend today, that I have not spoken with in over 30 years. She is the daughter of a woman who was in my mother's book club. We were reminiscing about how much our mother's book club influenced our lives. It got me to thinking about how much I love poetry and why I love the written word so much. I know it is because my mother read to me as a child.
When I was about 4 we moved to a ranch outside of town and it was a long way from anything. My mother had some other lady friends who also lived on ranches in the area with children our age (my brother and I, he was 2). They decided to get together a couple of times a month so us kids could play together. During these "play dates" the ladies started discussing books they had read. It turned into a book club that lasted for over 20 years. Each month they would meet at each other's houses and the hostess would serve tea and coffee and some sort of light treat and they would discuss a book they had all agreed to read. I remember listening to them and how intelligent they were and how they could each argue their points without getting mad at one another. I was a huge influence in my life, I even dedicated my book to my mother and the ladies of the book club.
The book club made a huge impression on me for sure, but it wasn't just that. My mother read to me and my two brothers every night all the way until I was a senior in high school. Of course we started off reading children's books, Dr. Seuss, The Big Growly Bear, Giant John, Mr. Ed, and the Jungle Book are some of my favorites. Later on she read us the classics, Treasure Island, scores of Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mysteries, poetry and just about everything that Rudyard Kipling wrote, and the last book we read was Dracula. Then I went off to college. Those memories of sitting at her side, listening to her voice painting pictures in my mind are priceless to me. I passed the love of words on to my two boys and now my grandchildren. I would not be here writing this today if it were not for my precious mother reading to me and showing me how beautiful the written word can be.
