Thursday, October 02, 2014

BOOK - MEMORY PROJECT DAY 3

(noun)
a written or printed work consisting of pages glued
or sewn together along one side and bound in covers

I have always loved to read, but did not grow up in a home with books.  We had encyclopedias for some strange reason, but that is all.  Frequently, even as a young child, I would walk a couple of miles to our local library and return home with a handful of mysteries, my favorite genre.   


Absolutely, beyond a shadow of doubt, my all-time favorite book from childhood is From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.  In the book, the main character, Claudia, convinces her brother to run away with her from their home in Connecticut to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.  The key words here, from and to, are not to be ignored.  Claudia was running to something more than away from something.  The fact that she had to leave home to get to the adventure she so desired is really secondary to the story. 

There is no wicked stepmother or horrible family left behind.  There is no outburst or anger preceding her departure.  There is just this nagging need to experience life on the edge, so to speak--to venture off in search of something.


As a child, that is what I wanted more than anything: adventure.  Even though it did bother me a little that the author never developed the point of view of the distraught family, I was willing to overlook it, because it would have taken away from the awesomeness of two kids fending for themselves while living in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  

Claudia was no dummy.  She devised a very detailed plan, thinking of just about everything.  The only thing that she could not have planned for was the mystery that unfolds about the angel sculpture.  

Okay, enough of the book review.  Just go ahead and read it to your kiddos--or to yourself.

I loved Claudia and everything about her--especially her cleverness. I still love Claudia and everything about her, which is totally okay.


All posts from the 31 Words project can be found here.

26 comments:

Candace Crabtree said...

Book. This word holds many, many memories for me. I love books. Lots of books. Have always been a reader. As a small child, my memory of a picture book is Am I Your Mother? I can remember my mom reading this to my brothers...I assume I listened in also. :) As an older child, the Boxcar Children drew me in and I could.not.put.them.down. I read them all. As an adult, books give me comfort, encouragement, help me to "get away" from real life, they inspire my faith, grow my faith, help me in parenting, bring me to my happy place. I'm not sure I can name just one. As an adult, the books that have had the biggest impact on me are Crazy Love, One Thousand Gifts, Jesus Calling, Praying the Scriptures For Your Children. I won't try to list the fiction books I've loved in adulthood. :)

Mel said...

I already expounded on my passion for reading books, in Day 2. Now, I'll expound on my passion for writing them and encouraging others to write them. Everyone has at least one book in them, waiting to be written. That is my mantra. I founded a Christian writer's group and so far have seen a dozen book authors become published! I have 2 published, and more in the works. I write the books, to preserve what is in my head and research material in the computer. (I write non-fiction). I used to have a full library, but had to give it away when I moved 3 states away and had to live in an RV. I left them in good hands, 1/2 at my home church and 1/2 at the local Library (some of which is allocated to the homeschool group there). One of my favorite movies is Beauty and the Beast, b/c Belle is always reading and wanting to get to the library We have a curved staircase, like Belle went up; and I want to 'shelve it' and then fill it with classic old books.

Heather Sparks said...

Flashlight under the covers to read far into the night. . .
Stacks of library books that were read way before they were due to be returned. . .
Checking out books at the church library and seeing my name signed at least ten times above the current signature. . .
Anne of Green Gables, Boxcar Children, Jane Austen books, Little House on the Prairie, biographies, and so many more. . .
The custom made bookshelves my parents had made for our schoolroom. 8 foot long by 5 feet tall. 2 of them! And they did not come close to holding all the books in our house.
Mom reading aloud to us almost every afternoon.
Nightly family devotions where we read from God's Word as a family. . .

Karen Pashley said...

Day 3…Book

It was 1970 and I was in the first grade. Lots of new and interesting things were happening from my perspective. I saw a kid have a seizure and throw up on the new carpet in our classrrom. Our school bus was in an accident and all of us kids took refuge in a home along the bus route while police and ambulances cleaned up the mess. And I learned to read. I was good at it.

One day, our teacher Mrs. Hood, announced we were expecting visitors. We sat straight in our metal seats, wondering what surprise was in store. Our visitors were nice, smiling grown ups. They called themselves The Gideons. And they’d come to pass out free little books — one for each student. It was called The New Testament. I don’t know why our public school allowed their evangelistic visit. Prayer in schools had been banned since before I was born, but for whatever reason, The Gideons found a home for their bag of tiny Bibles at Marcus Whitman Elementary.

Now, I don’t come from a Christian family. We attended church once or twice on Easter, but other than that, I didn’t have a lot of understanding of the things of God. The tiny Bible the Gideons delivered was like a secret mystery in my hands. The words were microscopic, and long. I knew it was special, and important. I kept that two-inch Bible in my desk drawer for years.

It would be another fifteen years before I gave my life and heart to the Lord, but I’d like to think that accepting that little book from a smiling stranger in Mrs. Hood’s first grade classroom was a seed planted by my Savior that helped draw me to His loving Grace when the time was right.

Jen said...

I love to read. I remember going to the library often when I was a child. The first memory that popped into my head with the prompting of this word is the big, thick mystery children's books I finally was old enough to read. I would burn through them as fast as I could. To this day I'm an obsessive reader and have a hard time putting down a book until I've finished it.

Kolein said...

Book, on some parts of the planet, means to leave abruptly or depart.

Recently, we booked. We left. Together as a family. My valiant husband, my two brave and loving sons. And me. Tired, heart broken, me. It was hard. It's still hard. 15 years of devotion, dedication, love, hope, care, service to a lie. We didn't realize it was the lie that it truly is until we were out, until we had booked and were trying to make sense of it all many months later. To some this may seem silly. Heck to me it even sounds silly. But God told us to leave. You know when He tells you something? (not getting religious here). It comes from deep within and canNOT be mistaken. We left the lie. Man's lie. Man's manipulation. Man's control. Man's forced regurgitated pulpit position of bullying a group of dear hearted people, grabbing at their heart, mind and purse strings like an evil puppeteer. Why did we stay so long, you might ask? I've been asking myself that question for the past year+. My only answer is that we had hope. We hoped that the glimmer of light that did exist was true enough to cast out all else into the deep sea. But, it didn't. So, Hope got up from the pew and walked out. That hope had to book. So here we are. Not lost. But in transition. Waiting. I cry a lot. Not as much as I did. I didn't tell anyone for months. My closest friends (outside of that place) didn't know. I couldn't tell anyone. And then God told me to throw my Bible away. Throw away the book, The Book. I know that's shocking. We, believers, worship that book. He didn't want it on the pedestal of my life anymore. He wanted me seek Him. Alone. In my hours of darkness, in my heart breaking cries after our closest friends who we loved and cared for for years were told never to speak to us, when this community was gone forever from us, when I was frightened, when I was worn out from the sadness, when I was blocked from phones, when running into some of my closest friends caused them to fear me, when lies were being told about me, my sons, my husband from the almighty platform, when everyone we loved dearly shunned us, when it appeared like the darkest cloud would overshadow me forever I HAD to seek the truth. I canNOT live a lie. Sorry to sound so dramatic here, but I canNOT live a lie. As in, Joan de Arc not live a lie. That is utter darkness to me. Truth and love, as we know, cast it out. And that it did, and does. Cuz somedays I'm over hear saying, Lord, Lord what would you have me do? So I get up and make the bed. Then breakfast. Then laundry. My sadness is not for our loss of community/family any longer. It is that men all around this world are getting away with the market program called Jesus. They sell him. They know what they're doing, most of them. And the tender hearted who just want a better way, a better life, go to these places and people with hope. That's what my husband did. That's what I did. Then we started our family. Then my boys had hope. And that is the beauty of all of this. No one can take what you have in your heart or rob you of you. The you that God made, however deep inside or scared, cannot be taken from you. They almost got us. But we booked. And to show you just how beautiful and sacred hope truly is, the day that we left, that Sunday morning as I made my way around to as many hands to shake as I could, smiling deeply, overflowing joy in my heart, I loved every person I touched on our way out. I thanked them for loving me. I was overjoyed knowing we were leaving for truth's sake. In the back of my mind, this hope so huge and life affirming is actually what carried me out. I believed, at that time, that they would ALL see it and become truly free. Hope does believe all things. I read about it once in that book. And now, today, we are living it. For real.

Sonya Tichenor said...

When I first read today's word, I panicked. Just a little. How in the world could I ever pick among the all the memories that flooded my mind? Then I remembered Denise's guidelines for the 31 day challenge. Use the earliest memory.

Gentle reader, let me introduce you to a little tome entitled "What Happened to George?" This the first book I remember being read to me. I was 4, maybe 5. And it was read to me enough times that I memorized it. I have occasionally looked for it online, but have never found it until today. Since I no longer possess the book, I was not surprised to find what was probably originally a 39 cent book going for a whopping $133.

Undeterred, I kept searching and stumbled upon a blog that reprinted the book in its entirety, page by page. Folks, it all came back to me so clearly. Here is the gist of this 1950's morality story with a somewhat dark ending. The phrases in quotation marks are the ones I distinctly remember because my dad used these phrases in everyday conversation. Believe me, he made them fit.

"In a sunshine-yellow house with white shutters" lived George with his parents and 8 siblings. He was a very good little pig, and did everything exactly right, except for one thing. He ate too much! One day he came home and found the kitchen full of doughnuts Mrs. Pig had made for the "Pigtown Ladies Popcorn Festival and Bazaar." (Except I think we said Pazaar.) He ate and ate until BOOM! The doughnuts, the kitchen roof and George all disappeared. While there were different theories as to what happened to George, "Great-Grandfather Pig, who was very old and very wise" thought he just burst!

So let that be a lesson to all of you.

Bonita said...

When I was in fourth grade my teacher recognized a flicker of writing talent and she brought in a homemade geography book she had written while she was in school to encourage me to do something similar. I loved my teacher dearly and would have done anything she asked me to do. I started writing a biography of a fictional character because I adored biographies and had read every one the library owned. I didn't finish the book that year, but the next year I did finish it and gave it to her to read. She read it to her class every day after lunch. I couldn't believe it! Her encouragement is what really spurred me to want to be a writer. I'm forever grateful!

Denise Voccola said...

Thank you for sharing, Bonita!

Liza Rutherford said...

Book...books are like a drug to me. I hear of people suffering from addiction and the only thing I can relate it to in my own life is reading...and maybe pasta... or chips and pico de gallo from Salsarita's... but books really have been my addiction so much longer! My mom would take us to the library all summer and I would check out my limit of books (22 I think) and have them read long before we could return them! I remember digging them out of my blankets or from behind my bed where I would fall asleep reading most every night! I cannot stop if I start a fiction series...so I have to only allow myself read fiction during lulls in the dance season! My husband and I share a bond with books as well, and read and discuss just about every book together nowadays. However, books have come to mean so much more to me as a parent. My oldest daughter is blind, and I was told when she was 2 that she would most likely grow up illiterate if we stayed in Jefferson County as they couldn't provide someone who could teach her. That was unacceptable to me! So...long story short, she is 11 and currently the 2nd best Braille reader in TN for her age group as well as an avid listener to books using a screen reader on her iPad. She's read the Bible through twice and consumed well over 400 other books in addition to her schoolwork in the last 2 years! Now, I'm trying to instill this love of reading to my 5 year old as well, because I truly believe one can self educate as far as they wish to go on any subject as long as she has access to literacy. So, books...they're my drug of choice and I guess I'm a dealer as well as an addict! I do love my kindle because I can read at night without a light and Braille books consume most of my shelving! They are huge!

Emily Noe said...

Book!! I've loved books from the time I can remember sitting on my mom's lap listening to her read stories to me! She never let a day go by without us reading books together! My favorite weekly outing was our trip to our small town library to read and pick out books! When I walked in the door of the library, I felt like I was in another world, a magical place. I had so many adventures to choose from and so many places I could go! I can remember the excitement of being able to take home those new adventures and dive into each new world and place! The words on the pages would take me into a magical land of fairies or along the dry, dusty prairie in a covered wagon with Laura Ingalls. I loved the feel of a book in my hands and even the smell of the pages. My love of reading even inspired me to write my own stories! Thankfully, my mom treasured those hand-written stories and kept them for me! I dreamed of being a writer and still do! Books are such a part of me that I can't imagine my life without them!

Niki said...

I loved reading my favorite book series. It was VC Andrews Flowers in the attic. I remember that I couldn't wait until the weekend so I could stay up all night and read. I remember getting so lost in those books. I wasn't a Christian then so I'm not sure it's something I would enjoy today or allow my children to read. At this particular time in my childhood it was a great escape from all the chaos in my home life.One good memory about my mom is that she made sure I had all the books in the series. She worked hard to make sure I always had what I wanted. I appreciate that today. Anyway....Today all the kids seem to like is vampire books. I think I'll write my own book it will be called Jesus Christ the Vampire Slayer.

Sabrina Starnes said...

I've read many books to date, but there's not really any memory that jumps out at me. So instead of sharing brief thoughts about different books I've read, I'll confess a side of my OCD-ness. I have never been able to own a bookcase or work around a bookcase without alphabetizing each book. In my parents home, books, VHS, DVDs, cassette tapes, CDs were always in alphabetical order because I couldn't handle them just thrown together. As an assistant, I've always convinced my boss to let me alphabetize his bookshelves. If I see a book out of place at a bookstore, I have an urgent need to find it's correct place. In my own home, my bookshelves are separated by categories (fiction, self-help, biographies, series) and then alphabetized. Perhaps I should have been a librarian.

Lisa Biery said...

Day 3. Book. My middle school self read every "Sweet Valley Sisters" and "Sweet Valley High" book that was published. The tale of twin sisters living in CA. The adventures and drama of their lives kept me quite entertained.

My favorite type of book to read is a play script. I find myself reading them aloud, becoming the characters. Whenever I'm a part of a production, my favorite rehearsal is the first one- the full read though, knowing the next step was to bring it to life. I like to think there is a small part of every character I've played within me.

Kelly H. said...

My room was an addition to the back of a very old house. Therefore, it was colder than all the other bedrooms. I spent all my growing up winters huddled under an electric blanket, which I dearly loved for two reasons. First, the obvious warm welcome and toasty toes all night long. But, every bit as important to me was that tiny, faint pink light on the dial. I was only supposed to use it to pick a setting from 1-10 and then go to sleep. I, however, pulled that small dial up under my blankets and read by it for hours and hours past my bedtime. It's nothing short of a miracle that I can see at all. I mashed that light against the pages of every Nancy Drew book that exists, every book our library held, and everything my mom could borrow from everyone we knew. Still love to read, and thankful for a husband who never complains about me leaving the lamp on.

Lisa said...

I AM A LOVER OF BOOKS! Reading to me is one of life's greatest pleasures. To become lost in a book and actually feel what the characters are feeling is indescribable. Reading is joy, heartbreak, and thrill all wrapped up in a tight bundle of emotions felt by reading the written words of the author.
For as long as I can remember, I have loved books. I was read to by my mom, dad, and both grandmothers. My maternal grandfather had a third grade education and stressed the importance of reading to all his grandchildren. He read every day, slowly still, right up to his death.
I grew up loving the library, Nancy Drew, and the Bobsey Twins. Sunday afternoon my family would pile up and read. Each of us had our favorite spot and we would spend that family time together quietly in our own worlds, experiencing the life of a character in a book. My love for books has only grown over the years and I can't imagine life without the comfort a good book brings!

Lisa Balough said...


Oh, how I wished to be Laura Ingles’ sister, playing in the barn loft! I also pictured myself many times with Jo, Meg, Beth and Amy gathered at Marmee’s knee and listening to her read a letter from Father. One summer I was with Pippi in the South Seas climbing palm trees and sipping coconut milk nearly every day. I sympathized with Anne and encouraged her to stick with the truth so she could get to experience homemade ice cream. Am I the only one who inserted myself incessantly into the stories I read? As a child, lying in bed at night, I would fantasize in detail about living in the time of a story or living with a particularly endearing or vibrant character. Some characters “lived” with me for years. I don’t have a specific, early memory of a book or of my mother reading to me, although I’m certain she did. My memories of books are all lumped together as one, great and wonderful feeling. Reading was freedom, both then and now and I always feel sad for those who don’t like to read. I feel they are missing out on so much but then the Lord reminds me that we are all different. As different as Heidi, Nancy Drew, or Huck and Tom. Different is not bad, it’s just different.

Kimberly Hoyt said...

I didn't discover "The Mixed Up Files Of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler" until I was an adult, home schooling my kids. It turned out to be one of our favorite books!

I remember learning to read before I started school; pestering my mom until she taught me. She enrolled me in a monthly book club at age 4.

Besides those books, I saved my allowance and bought more whenever our class would place an order with Scholastic. I also scoured local thrift stores and always asked for books for birthdays and Christmas...

One not so happy memory: My 2nd grade teacher holding my book report in the air, not believing that I had truly read "The Mouse and the Motorcycle" and calling me a liar in front of the class. She marched me to the school library, pulled the book off the shelf, shoved it in my hands and said, "READ!" And I did. She snatched the book away and marched me back to the classroom. She never apologized or said anything to the class about being wrong about me.

I remember haunting school libraries as we moved around a lot. I was a shy skinny kid in those days, with glasses that seemed too large for my face, awkward and not adapting well to always being one of the "new kids". Books were, and are, my solace.

Because even though I'm not that shy, awkward kid any more, we still move a lot and I am not much better at adapting to always being one of the "new kids".

Which is probably why, when we moved overseas and I had to purge my bookshelves (getting rid of about 2,000 titles) I kept and brought my favorites (about 680).

I prefer the feel of a real book, but gave in and got a Kindle because it's so difficult get books in English where we live now. After several packages of books went MIA in transit from the U.S., I realized a Kindle wasn't the technological equivalent of Satan :) It could truly be a tool, and I have to admit I have enjoyed being able to access books quickly and easily. However, I still buy books and bring them back any time we visit the U.S.

I also continue to haunt libraries whenever we're in the U.S. I have to say, the library system is the thing I miss most (after family and friends, of course).

One of our favorite dates is a trip to a bookstore, preferably one with a coffee shop, where we can browse, compare, sip coffee and read together.

I cannot imagine life without books. And I'd be hard pressed to pick "A" favorite, for I have too many!

Denise Voccola said...

Thanks for visiting, Kimberly! I agree with you about accepting that a Kindle wasn't the technological equivalent of Satan. So funny!

Audra Picarello said...

Makes me think of all the times I spent reading when I was younger, and the summer I spent holed up in my grandparents basement finishing my book. I had plans to be published by 16. Life changes :)

Lyle said...

Books are like threads woven through my entire childhood, holding all the memories together. I remember my hours of reading, hiding from my chores in my room or the barn of anywhere I hoped no one would discover how long I had been reading "just one more chapter." One Christmas, my grandparents took my cousin and me to the mall. They gave each of us $5.00 and the freedom to choose anything we wanted. I passed right by the toy store and dashed into B Dalton bookstore. I usually loved the classics, thanks to my great-aunt, a retired English teacher. This time, however, I opted for a more contemporary selection, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Then, while my grandparents and cousin Christmas shopped, I sat on a bench and read the entire book, oblivious to the rest of the world, gripped by those crazy Herdmans, loving it when Gladys yells, "Hey, unto you a child is born!" It wasn't until I was twenty-three that I trusted Christ, the Child that was born to rescue the world, and began to love the greatest Book. I have often thought how powerful it is that God chose to communicate His love and redemption through story.

MsHouse121 said...

Books, I loved loved loved books when I was growing up. I would sit and listen to anyone read to me for hours if they would. I would rather have someone read me a book than me read the book myself. Some of my favorite was "Where the Wild thing Are", "Rumpelstiltskin", any books on "Heidi", Charlie Brown, and Dr Seuss. I remember my mother reading to me and my siblings and what expression she used. I also remember being so excited about mom letting me join the book club and I would love it when that book came in the mail once a month. I would rip open the package to see the title of the new book so excited to see what it would be. One of my favorite memories of books was when I was in the first grade. This sweet older lady named Mrs. Snap came to our class every Wednesday around 10:30 and would read Bible Stories to our class and would do Flannel Board stories. She would also read from the Bible and she made the stories come alive! How I would so look forward to Wednesdays!

Create in Me said...

I’m ashamed to admit, especially in this venue, that I am not a book person. As an adult I have read and have learned to appreciate books so much more than I did as a child and young adult. But I’m I still not a book person, I want to be, I try to be. Please forgive me and love me anyway.
I do have a great story about books, though. In high school we were assigned to read a book a quarter. My literature teacher would give a choice of two books to read. We would have to write a book report for our chosen book and the day it was due we had to take a written test that would consist, typically, of nine questions of which we had to choose seven to answer. These would be elaborate, essay type questions. I hated reading so much that I came up with a fool proof scheme to get me through high school. I would gather my bestest and truest of friends who had chosen what seemed to me like the better book and would beg them to spend all of our recess time telling me the story, in detail; the more friends that would come, the better, because if one left something out, the other would chime in to interject. It was good for them too, I would argue, because it was great review and maybe someone would have a point of view that the other had missed. I was a book club, if you will. It was a win-win arrangement for sure. It worked. It worked so well that on more than one occasion I actually got the better grade than my classmates. Ha! I guess I was a smart cookie. Every once in a blue moon I did read our assignment. I loved Withering Heights and a book called The Citadel. I’m sure there were others, but those are the only two I recall. Our book club time was so helpful that it stuck even when I had read the book.
I’m so thankful for kind, helpful friends that were willing to let me use them on such desperate circumstances. My mom made the best chocolate cakes in the history of ever, and my friends thought she was the bomb. So I’ll call it even.
Favorite books of all time, in no particular order, just so you know I do read from time to time:
The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
The Daughter of Fortune and The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende
The House at Riverton and The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton
Harry Potter (all of them)
The Horse and His Boy by C.S Lewis

Kathy Wiedemann said...

Day 3 Book
You wouldn’t know it by looking at the bookshelves in EVERY ROOM of my house (bathrooms excluded, kinda) but I did not grow up surrounded by books. They were few and far between. There were never trips to the library until I was in 5th or 6th grade and used it as an excuse to get out of the house. We could walk there and so it was often an escape…not that we were really interested in actual books, just the independence of walking to Post by ourselves. We would pick out a few random books that had interesting covers or titles to take home (to prove we had actually been to the library) and half the time they were left unopened until their due date. Word of advice: “Fear of Flying” is NOT about airplanes! That was one we picked up off the bestseller shelf and the librarian let me check it out! I remember reading only a little of it and being so embarrassed and shocked I wouldn’t stack it with my other books for fear that filth might rub off or something! I hid it under my mattress until time to return it and then pushed into another stack of books so the librarian wouldn’t know “I” brought it in!
I do remember loving the Clifford series when I was younger. That was one of the few books we actually owned. Another was Pippi Longstocking and Madeline. Bedtime stories were not a ritual or tradition in my family and occurred rarely.
The oldest memory I have of an actual book was a tiny copy (about 4-inches square) of The Night Before Christmas that was read to my brother and I every Christmas eve until we were grown. It is one of the few standing traditions that never wavered over the years. It was always stored away with the decorations and brought out again when the cookies were set out for Santa. We were never allowed to touch it (might tear it or get a fingerprint on it) and had to sit perfectly still and quiet while my mom read the story just before bed. There was no discussion or questions. We just knew when that book came out it was bedtime before Santa came!
When I was in 6th grade I had an amazing English teacher, Michael Murray, who taught me that reading can be done for recreation as well as learning. What a concept! When our class behaved and everyone turned in our homework as assigned, he would read aloud the stories of the ancient Greek and Roman myths. Needless to say, it was a rare occasion that someone didn’t have their homework! We absolutely reveled in those stories! He suggested titles for me to get at the library to show me the fun side of reading and I was hooked! I really don’t remember any of the early books I read, but once I picked up one of my dad’s Stephen King novels, there was no turning back. My father (oddly) always had a book with him but had never discussed or promoted reading to us…ever. He was engrossed in Stephen King, Peter Straub, and the like, so there was never a shortage of macabre reading material for me lying around. I think that first novel was “Carrie”…a wonderful little story any 11 year old girl should be reading…at bedtime…in the dark! I had already read at least three of King’s novels before my mom got wise. After assuring her I was not having nightmares (big lie!) she said she “guessed” reading is good for me, especially the volume of material I was putting away, and gave me permission to continue. She didn’t read them until I was older. She thought they were mostly “little ghost stories”…ha! I read everything that man published up until 1989. I read several other authors during that time, as well, but Stephen King was always my favorite. This was all before I was a Christian, obviously, but I am still impressed at the vivid imagery that man is capable of evoking with just a few keystrokes. No other author composes tales like he does and reading his works was inevitably quite advantageous for me. (see what I did there?)

Becca Hill said...

I was a horrid beginner! All I remember was how well my best friend could read & I wanted to be like Kelly Sturm Hammer! But I was in the " black bird " group and probably never moved up. Now I know it was probably because of my very absent mother who NEVER read to me. I can't remember reading childhood books EVER in my childhood. Now, I hoard them & still buy & read them nightly... Even to my junior high boys!

Lanette said...

Day 3 BOOK

The main book in my life as a child was the Bible. My mother always loved to read, especially the Bible. She always taught me and my brother the Bible.

Another significant memory I have is I can remember staying all night with my Mammaw and Pappaw Lane (Marvin and Harold Lane). I know it is funny that my grandmother's name is Marvin. My family has had our many laughs over it but the funniest part is that she was a welder at a factory and my grandfather sewed as a professional tailor. My Pappaw Lane went to his reward in Heaven almost a year ago come November 23rd. He was an extremely Godly man. He never went to bed without reading the GOOD BOOK. I'm sure that is why my mother passed down that same Christian heritage to us. In turn, me and my brother have also passed it on to our children. There is no other book to stand the test of time like God's Word.

My favorite story books as a child was Charlotte's Web and Little House on the Prairie.