From 1st through 7th grade we didn’t have a television in the house.
I don’t think I ever complained…maybe because it was all I really knew.
Instead of Full House and Family Matters,
I read books–lots of them.
Every week, my Mom or Grandma would take me
to the bookstore to pick out a new book.
I remember attempting to take my time to read them,
savoring every single page until my next trip to the book shop.
However, I couldn’t resist sneaking pages under the covers with a flash light way past my bedtime. Ultimately, the book was finished the first day I brought it home.
Soon, my Mom found a local used book shop
and gave me NO limit on the number of books I threw in our basket,
so long as I finished them before our next visit.
I wasn’t the smartest kid in the bunch,
didn’t get an impressive score on my SAT
and I certainly didn’t get a full ride to Harvard.
But I did alright.
And, looking back,
I attribute “doing alright” to those 7 years
of really good books.
What am I forgetting?
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