In the beginning...

    My love of reading has roots deeper than my own experience.  My mother even claims it's genetic-- her grandmother was a reader, her mother is a reader, she's a reader, I'm a reader.  If I ever have a daughter, I hope she'll be a reader.  It's the best thing I could pass on to the next generation.

     I have loved books since before I can recall.  My earliest reading memory:  my father soothing me to sleep with the fluid, melodic nonsense of Dr .Seuss.  He would read them to me every night until I knew the stories by heart.

     My interest grew with age.  I began reading anything I could get my hands on, and by the end of my primary school days I could read (and comprehend) at a high school level.  By the end of middle school, my reading had no limits.  I read Stephen King's horror.  I read Jean M. Auel's Earth's Children series.  I read Little Women; Go Ask Alice; Weeping Willow and anything else that was handed to me.  In high school I read all the assigned reading and asked for more.  My brain was always hungry for new books. 

     I am much the same today.  I browse book stores (new and used), yard sales, library sales, the internet.  My Amazon.com wish list is pages and pages long, filled with books I want to devour.  On my shelves are three dozen books patiently awaiting their turn.  It will come soon enough.  I'm always hungry.