Childhood Reading Experience Annecdote
It was the summer of 1987; relaxing on the ottoman in the living room of my grandmother’s home in Pasadena. The cool air was circulating from the vents above and sounds of laughter and chitchat were emanating from the adjacent rooms. Only three years old at the time, I was sitting there trying to entertain myself while the adults were occupied elsewhere. I noticed a bookshelf across the hall in another room, and being so curious as I was, proceeded toward the office in amazement, as the towering shelves stacked with literature seemed to overpower my presence. I immediately took notice of the bright color of a single book in particular, which just happened to be inches from my short reach.