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First Memories of Reading


The first memory I have of reading was looking at the colorful comics in the Sunday newspaper. I don’t remember how old I was, but the comics seemed huge. I was so little that I spread them out on the floor to look at the pictures.  I had trouble turning over the pages without slipping, and tearing the pages. I remember my younger brother crawling on top of the paper and sitting on top of it, which annoyed me as I was unable to turn the page to look at more of the “funnies”.

I asked my mother, who always read the newspaper cover to cover, how do I know what the comics said? “Don’t worry about the words. Just look at the pictures. For now, make up your own words.”

Having the freedom to make up my own words inspired my imagination.

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One Comment

  1. You’re right about finding the freedom to make up your own words. Then the words become stories, and the stories become novels . . . so true.

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