Why I Love to Read
By Kay Kendall
I can’t recall a time when I didn’t love to lose myself in
books. Reading is so much a part of me that I take it for granted—like breathing,
sleeping, eating.
stop to question why you are doing that activity. Certainly that was true for
me and my passion for books for the longest time. Lately, however, I’ve
wondered why I developed this habit of avid reading. Why books and not
something else? And to say merely that I ENJOY books and that’s why I read begs
the question.
reading?
around from subject to subject, questioning what it notices, absorbing everything
and wanting to learn more. When nothing is going on around me, then I spin
stories. This also was true for me as long as I can remember.
playmates. As a member of the baby boom generation, I had plenty of other children
nearby and was fortunate in that regard. However, when I was forced to take an
hour-long nap every afternoon during the summer, I never slept. I was always so
bored and entertained myself making up stories to while away the time.
didn’t have many. My home lacked a television set until I was eight years old.
However, there were plenty of books. My parents read constantly and gave me books to
read. I suppose my mother must have read to me initially, but I must confess
that I can’t recall back that far. Both sets of my grandparents gave me books,
but as to which came first, those gifts or being given books because I showed
interest in them, I cannot say. The Carnegie Library was my home away from home.
when I read. I consumed books like candy. I was hungry for escape and
entertainment and learning. I have always loved learning new things—mostly about
people, not so much about science and technical things. I wanted to learn about
all the people in the world and how they differed and what made them so.
wanted to learn about the whole wide world. By default, Dallas, Texas, became my
mecca as we motored there several times a year to see my paternal grandparents.
They were also keen readers. Perhaps reading was a part of my DNA. My Texas grandparents kept every issue of The National Geographic that entered their home over the course of many decades, and their set of Harvard Classics lives today in my own living room.
never did and don’t now. This difference puzzled me for some time, but these
days, when I look at next-door neighbors and see how little the parents read, I
surmise that their children won’t become readers either. I don’t see magazines
or books in their home, and I’ve been going over there for more than a decade,
so I should know. The two children appear to read only when they’re doing their
homework or playing games on iPods. They get lost in their digital world the
way I used to get lost in my literary one and still do.
What your parents do informs who you are. For example, my son and his wife (an
English major in college and now a technical editor) are raising my two
grandchildren in a home stuffed with books. My daughter-in-law read to their
first child almost from the moment he was born. He taught himself to read by
the age of four and now at age seven tears through at least three books a week.
To protect the family budget, an E-reader was purchased in order to keep the
costs down of supplying my grandson with books to read. His online wish list
always holds at least twenty books.
I love to read—but I am sure of one thing. This love of mine has already gone
on to the next two generations. And I am content.
why “experts say” reading is good for us.)