Last night, I laid in bed, trying to sleep, but an occurrence from earlier in the day was bothering me enough that I kept replaying it and wondering if I handled it correctly and what I might have done better. You know those circumstances when you think you did everything right, but somehow, the end result wasn't quite what you wanted.
Anyway .. as I lay there cycling through it time and again, and trying to distract myself with sleepier thoughts, the rain pattering down and the melting snow forming tiny rivulets that gurgled and chuckled below my window on its way to who knows where .. well, they caught my attention. I remembered the Thornton W. Burgess books that we read as kids, particularly the one called "Along Laughing Brook." Those books absorbed my attention, each new one was a delight and a treasure. I can still recall the names .. Reddy Fox, Grandfather Frog, Sammy Jay, Chatterer the Squirrel, Buster Bear, Joe Otter.
It struck me that our parents, particularly my mother, instilled a love of reading in me simply by having books around to capture my attention, the creative and free spirit longing for expression. I remember those little books, I remember the Pollyanna series, the Hardy Boys set, the Enclyopedia set whose volume on Fairy Tales I quickly bookmarked and read voraciously. Books and reading were never pushed at us ... I remember Ralph getting caught with a flashlight reading under the covers at night .. so I must not be the only one that has a love of a good story.
As we got older, the books we read matured a bit I suppose. I took up the Louis Lamour westerns that Dad read, the Harlequins that amused mom and the Agatha Christie books that used to keep her up late at night, spooked by strange noises. Yea, those spooked me in turn. Even now, give me a good detective story with fantasy characters, and I'm hooked.
Seems to me that the best way to get kids interested in reading is simply to be a reader.
For those of you not introduced to the delightful whimsy of Laughing Brook and the Green Forest, I give you an excerpt from "The Adventures of Old Mr. Toad."
Old Mother West Wind had just come down from the Purple Hills and turned loose her children, the Merry Little Breezes, from the big bag in which she had been carrying them. They were very lively and very merry as they danced and raced across the Green Meadows in all directions, for it was good to be back there once more. Old Mother West Wind almost sighed as she watched them for a few minutes. She felt that she would like to join them. Always the springtime made her feel this way,--young, mad, carefree, and happy. But she had work to do. She had to turn the windmill to pump water for Farmer Brown's cows, and this was only one of many mills standing idle as they waited for her. So she puffed her cheeks out and started about her business.
Anyway .. as I lay there cycling through it time and again, and trying to distract myself with sleepier thoughts, the rain pattering down and the melting snow forming tiny rivulets that gurgled and chuckled below my window on its way to who knows where .. well, they caught my attention. I remembered the Thornton W. Burgess books that we read as kids, particularly the one called "Along Laughing Brook." Those books absorbed my attention, each new one was a delight and a treasure. I can still recall the names .. Reddy Fox, Grandfather Frog, Sammy Jay, Chatterer the Squirrel, Buster Bear, Joe Otter.
It struck me that our parents, particularly my mother, instilled a love of reading in me simply by having books around to capture my attention, the creative and free spirit longing for expression. I remember those little books, I remember the Pollyanna series, the Hardy Boys set, the Enclyopedia set whose volume on Fairy Tales I quickly bookmarked and read voraciously. Books and reading were never pushed at us ... I remember Ralph getting caught with a flashlight reading under the covers at night .. so I must not be the only one that has a love of a good story.
As we got older, the books we read matured a bit I suppose. I took up the Louis Lamour westerns that Dad read, the Harlequins that amused mom and the Agatha Christie books that used to keep her up late at night, spooked by strange noises. Yea, those spooked me in turn. Even now, give me a good detective story with fantasy characters, and I'm hooked.
Seems to me that the best way to get kids interested in reading is simply to be a reader.
For those of you not introduced to the delightful whimsy of Laughing Brook and the Green Forest, I give you an excerpt from "The Adventures of Old Mr. Toad."
Old Mother West Wind had just come down from the Purple Hills and turned loose her children, the Merry Little Breezes, from the big bag in which she had been carrying them. They were very lively and very merry as they danced and raced across the Green Meadows in all directions, for it was good to be back there once more. Old Mother West Wind almost sighed as she watched them for a few minutes. She felt that she would like to join them. Always the springtime made her feel this way,--young, mad, carefree, and happy. But she had work to do. She had to turn the windmill to pump water for Farmer Brown's cows, and this was only one of many mills standing idle as they waited for her. So she puffed her cheeks out and started about her business.
Jimmy Skunk sat at the top of the hill that overlooks the Green Meadows and watched her out of sight. Then he started to amble down the Lone Little Path to look for some beetles. He was ambling along in his lazy way, for you know he never hurries, when he heard some one puffing and blowing behind him. Of course he turned to see who it was, and he was greatly surprised when he discovered Old Mr. Toad. Yes, Sir, it was Old Mr. Toad, and he seemed in a great hurry. He was quite short of breath, but he was hopping along in the most determined way as if he were in a great hurry to get somewhere.
Now it is a very unusual thing for Mr. Toad to hurry, very unusual indeed. As a rule he hops a few steps and then sits down to think it over. Jimmy had never before seen him hop more than a few steps unless he was trying to get away from danger, from Mr. Blacksnake for instance. Of course the first thing Jimmy thought of was Mr. Blacksnake, and he looked for him. But there was no sign of Mr. Blacksnake nor of any other danger. Then he looked very hard at Old Mr. Toad, and he saw right away that Old Mr. Toad didn't seem to be frightened at all, only very determined, and as if he had something important on his mind.
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