Dad brought this home for me. Its a bit tattered after nearly sixty years.
I was lucky to have a family that believed in and encouraged my writing attempts. Mom was a bookworm, when she had time to be. Probably five little kids and a house without running water or electricity got in the way of her reading time.
However, she did tell one of her friends that the house could probably burn up around her if she had a book in her hand.
Dad was not a reader, but was very impressed with my abilities. He would wake me up to come and read the Bible to him.
Not because he cared about the Bible, but because he liked to hear me read all those funny names and long words. The 'begats' were his favourites.
When I was ten I wrote a poem that my Auntie Dorothy set to music and we sang together. I
wish I had that poem now, but it went the way of all my favourite books and childhood treasures. All I have left are the photo album I got for Christmas when I was 12, and a scrapbook about the Royal family.
Long story short, with my mom's
encouragement, my dad's pride and my siblings willingness, I always felt that books and stories were a worthwhile endeavor. I no longer write poetry, but I do sing. And what are songs but poems set to music?