Gratitude #10: Reading

"Children are made readers 

on the laps of their parents." 

- Emilie Buchwald

Dad, on his days off or on evenings when his cares and work and responsibilities gave him some respite, could often be found on the edge of our couch, a work of John Grisham or an Orson Scott Card in hand. Or newspapers, back before his smartphone gave him the news. 

Mom, I always saw Mom with her thick and worn blue holy book between her hands. The Bible, The Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and  the Pearl of Great Price were all squeezed into one massive volume that I saw her cradle in her palms and read over and over and over. She highlighted the words that spoke to her and wrote her own thoughts in the margins. 

Dad read, and Mom read, and I watched. 

Dad brought home a collection of classic stories, the very same copies he read as a boy. He'd found them at his parents' home. I don't remember all the titles, but among them were The Black Stallion, Lassie, and Lad: A Dog. Every night after the youngest brothers were in bed, Austin would nestle up on one side of him and I would nestle on the other, and out loud the stories of Alec's adventures with the great onyx horse unfolded. This is just one example of dozens, other titles including White Fang, Call of the Wild, and Night Flyers. All of these novels mainly involved animals, and now that I think about it, I can't remember if I chose the books or if my parents did. Either way, I'm grateful that they catered to my intense curiosity and love of animals while simultaneously fueling an appreciation for literature.

Mom read to us many nights, too. I remember her sitting on the downstairs hallway floor, in between Austin's room and mine, giving us a taste for intriguing and thought provoking historical fiction with the tales of Anne of Green Gables, Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry, and Hoofbeats of Danger. I also remember her relating to us the most fantastic blend of historical fiction and fantasy, Tuck Everlasting.

Dad read, and Mom read, and I listened.

I was graced with allowance (I consider it to be a generous and kind way my parents helped me develop a healthy understanding of money) and, to be quite honest, the portion allotted to my spending account was almost always run dry by book orders and book fairs. My personal library easily reached 100+ volumes by the time I graduated high school.

Every summer on a weekly basis, Mom packed all five of us youngsters into the mini van and brought us to story time at the library. We returned home with several bags filled to spilling with picture books and a few chapter books. Those other days in between library visits we read together, we read individually, we were buried in words.

Dad provided opportunity, Mom provided opportunity, and I read and read and read.

Today I'm grateful for parents who fostered a TO, WITH, and BY literacy approach (the method prescribe by Dr. Brad Wilcox, education professor at BYU). They read on their own, they read to me, they read with me, they let me read by myself; and in so doing made me a reader for life. And therein, they made me a learner for life.

Afterthought: If you were not read to, with, or by as a child, I am sorry for you--truly, I am. But that does not mean that you are stifled from offering the same joy to your children or other youngsters in your life, nor are you stifled from becoming a reader and learner for life yourself. Practice a little each day, just a few minutes can change your course and the course of the child to become more informed, critical-thinking, curious, and motivated individuals.