I have never self-identified as a reader of books. Although, in retrospect, there are a number of books from my youth I remember- The Children's Pictorial Dictionary ( originally my father's, and I still continue to count it among my possessions), books about animals, outdoor survival skills, horror movies, dogs, science...Golden Books, various field guides. During summer vacation a trip to the Book Mobile at the fire station was a highlight of the week. I read a wide array magazines, usually cover to cover. I enjoy puns and semantics, scored high on the verbal sections of the SAT, GRE and MAT and abysmally low in the math portions. Perhaps, it is best to say I am not a reader of fiction. I have thought about pursuing a degree in creative writing, but am always turned off by the required reading.
Maisie, my six year old, is at the age when reading is truly fundamental to her scholastic success (and beyond). In an effort to model the joys of literacy to her, I began, this summer, to make an orchestrated effort to read books. Non-fiction. I read Adrift by Steven Callahan, Yossi Ghinsberg's Jungle, Barbara Ehrenreich's Living with a Wild God and Curious Minds; How a Child Becomes a Scientists. These last two have steered me toward a return to more science -related material-I just finished Endless Forms Most Beautiful by Sean B. Carroll. Tonight I picked up Melissa Coleman's This Life is in Your Hands and ordered a book about Alaskan prostitutes during the gold rush by Lael Morgan, a former employer, Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush: Secret History of the Far North.
May we both reap the rewards and benefits of a lifetime of reading and learning.
