There were several factors in growing up in such a huge family that made every one of us (11 siblings) love the written word. First of all, Mom had an affinity for reading just about anything that passed within her peripheral vision. If it was blowing across the street and looked like it might have some written word on it, she would stop it with her foot and look to see what it said.
So, it would be logical that she would always find a way in her day to read a few pages of her chosen book of the week. And, that she did. There had to be a way to corral all of these children and keep them quiet long enough to get several pages read and digested. Since she was usually pregnant, nap time was a must. There was always a nap time. Nap time was seldom ever missed at our house … every winter, spring, summer and fall. She always started the little ones out with Little Golden Books, Little Black Sambo, The Ugly ducking, Peter and the Wolf, The Three Little Pigs, The Little Train that Could and The Gingerbread Man. In the fall and winter, most of us were in school. The younger kids at home were corralled and put down for naps after lunch, whereby she made a special time to read to these preschoolers until the last one nodded off to sleep. Then she would pick up her big Steinbeck, Hemingway, Zane Grey, Larry McMurtry or Louis L’Amour, just to name a few.
Suffice to say, she always had something to read, and encouraged all of us to do the same. To do this, she read classics to us at nap time. Through the Looking-Glass, Kidnapped, Black Beauty, Treasure Island, Tom Sawyer and The Hobbit were just a few. Mostly I remember naptime in the summer.
In the summer time, from the time I was about six years old, all of us were required to part take in nap time. First, Mom would crank up the old swamp cooler in the window, and then she would situate herself in the middle of her bed with the two youngest; one on either side. Usually the two beside her were of different temperaments, and she held a switch in one hand, mostly to warn them to be still and quiet so that she could read. Everyone else was situated on their pallets on the floor.
With the switch in one hand, and the other holding the current book propped up against her usually very pregnant belly she would begin to read. On occasion, one of the two on the bed would squirm. If it was Georgie, she’d give him a little warning swat with the switch. If it was Danny, then she would tickle his back with the switch. One by one we would all fall asleep. This went on every summer until we were of junior high school age.
Joanie was the first to be excused from nap time. She was allowed to go off to the privacy of her own room and read quietly to herself. And, she was most happy do so. When Anne and I reached that age, we were given the choice of going to lie down in front of the fan in the living room, or some other quiet activity in another part of the house until nap time was over at 3 p.m. We older ones also had the option of walking to the recreation center around 3:30, when the Book Mobile would be there. It was always a really special treat to check out library books in the summer.
I will always remember how much I enjoyed being read to at nap time. Those stories inspired imagination and encouraged us all to be avid readers. Every one of my siblings has a great appreciation for the written word, and the desire write, whether it is a journal, blog or a diary. I think it all goes back to being read to. Just to be read to as a child is probably the greatest inspiration to read that there could be.
