Most of us have a number of "firsts" tucked away somewhere within our remembrances. Among those might be first day of school, first date, first kiss, first roller coaster ride, and other firsts, both good and bad.

One first that stands out among all the others for me is the first book I loved. The House That Jack Built was my first. I'm not sure of my age, but it was sometime before I was old enough to stand by the gravel road and catch the school bus to that faraway land called school.

I loved the repetition, I loved the rhyming, and I loved the illustrations. I grew up on a dairy farm, but I remember being baffled and concerned about the "cow with the crumpled horn." Our gentle cows had no horns, much less a horn that was all crumpled. I couldn't read at that point, but I learned to recite the book, and I believe if asked, I might be able to do it even today.

I no longer have the old book I loved so much. I don't know what became of it. Two younger siblings came along after me, so it probably simply gave out and went to book heaven.

I wish every child could be fortunate enough to love a book so much he would remember it years down the road. I hope you'll read a book to a youngster today. It might turn out to be his "first."


No comments:

Post a Comment