What Daddy Taught Me About Reading

"Make sure you read the good stuff."

So glad to have been raised by a father who reads a lot. My father reads newspaper in the morning, and oftentimes, when we'd visit him at work, he's still reading. He'd read the map, and he's quite familiar with history, too. In fact, he's better than I am at remembering dates. He'd tell me stories about royal families and how wars ignited. He's my first story teller. My favorite, actually.

When I was in the third grade, a box came. It wasn't wrapped or anything. It was just a plain, brown box that contained twenty-two encylopedias, from A-Z, with two dictionaries. It was my birthday and I had wished for a doll. When I was in the sixth grade, he came home with a thick, white book. I learned it's a thesaurus and we'd read together in the afternoons when he's not working. When I grew up, I rarely open those books anymore. But he was supportive, always have been, but also made sure I read the 'good stuff'. He never saw me reading Harlequin romances. 😂

When I wrote a feature article for the school paper for the very first time, I went home rushing to him. He skipped the other parts and went on and read what I wrote. He smiled and said, "just one page?" I said there's a word limit.

What my father taught me about reading is that it is never a waste of time. But most importantly, he taught me that if I can read, then surely, I can also write.