Sometime in the summer, a silver-bearded prophet came to my house. He discerned pain here, he said, staring into my mother’s eyes. The prophet held her hands and spoke softly until she told him about her nightmares, about how she was a Christian woman but lived in pain and slept without peace. Strolling into the living room, the prophet laid a stack of cards across the coffee table. These intuited the sources and meanings of dreams, he said as we sat on the couch. He arranged the cards in a way that made my mother cry. For Satan roamed free through the house, the cards showed, through the witchcraft in the books.
We didn’t read Harry Potter, Mom replied.
But there’s where so many Christians were fooled, the prophet said. I remember leaning
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I forgot about the books I had hidden. Every day, I did my homework mechanically. I went to bed on time. Then, I read every book I had left three times or more. I memorized “The Hollow Men” before I knew what it meant. I can still recite the biography of Florence Griffith Joyner. I still know every short story written and illustrated by Joni Eareckson Tada.
When I finally cleaned my room, I found Heir Apparent. I stared at it for a while, in its hiding spot. I held it to my chest and smelled the pages. I decided to relocate it to my bed so I could read it later that night, which is when I found the two Artemis Fowl books. I read all three, cover to cover, overnight. Then, I returned them to their hiding places. I did this at least once a week until my mother forgot what those books were about, and then I placed them in the science section of my library. My mother says she has not had a nightmare since.
The prophet died the year that I went to college. After that, my mother forgot why she, as she remembers, banned the Narnia books. A giant version of all seven books in the series sits on the coffee table in our new house. My sisters read it, but I have not. I haven’t re-read anything that
I chose Florence Joyner because, she is an Olympic gold medalist, american sprinter, and she change the way of Track/Field. She has set and held records in the 100 meter and 200 meter events. Florence Joyner nickname “Flo Jo” as the fastest women on earth. She started trends and helped others.
Florence Joyner also known as “Flo Jo” was born as Florence Delorez Griffith on December 21st, 1959 in Los Angeles, California (Biography.com Editors, “Florence Joyner Biography”, The Biography.com website). In 1987 Florence Griffith married her spouse Al Joyner which was a fellow athlete and the brother of famed athlete Jackie Joyner-Kersee (Biography.com Editors, “Florence Joyner Biography”, The Biography.com website). Florence broke records and even set records due to the speed that she carried with her. Later on in her career she and her coach Bob Kersee were under the media speculations because a rumor was out that she she was using performance enhancing drugs to improve her times (Biography.com Editors, “Florence Joyner Biography”, The Biography.com website). In september of 1998 at the age of 38 Joyner died unexpectedly after suffering from an epileptic seizure(Biography.com Editors, “Florence Joyner Biography”, The Biography.com website).
“How Reading Changed My Life” is the book from where the piece of fragment that we read was taken. This book was written by Anna Quindlen. I was able to relate to Quindlen’s perspective and strongly agree with her. Although children have more extra time to read their favorite books over and over again, adults were children and if they liked to re-read books in the past because the book was in their interest, they will also reread their favorite novel in the present.
There I was. An undersized 3rd grader, meeting with the school librarian, who was probing at my ability to read and comprehend the book I chose for that week. It was during this particular week in which I refused to join the class in their sticky hand raid, but rather, shift through my new library at home. It was the weekend prior in which my grandmother purchased a white box from a garage sale.
The thin rustic pages scrape past my loose fingers as I sit engaged. My heart pounds harder and faster with every word my eyes pass over. My ears hear nothing, even within booming noise. My complete focus is on the book that lays in my hand with a laminated cover, and I have no choice but to submit to the content. My breath tastes of spearmint and the aroma of fresh paper floats past my nose. I couldn’t resist but delve into the worlds and mysteries that books hold. Once opened, everything around me becomes a distant blur. I am hooked. Books have always created an escape for creativity and fancies to run free. Books are used as a medium for reason. Books are formative to the development of human beings. In my instance, books changed my life.
Looking back on my childhood with adult eyes there is one thing that is clear to me. The devil prowled around my home, seeking to devour. He brought about many attacks on me as a child, through my family. Some of the earliest memories I have as
One day, a package arrived at my door. I opened it. Inside was a leather-bound book covered in strange symbols. I opened the book, and the every page inside was covered in words written in an odd language. There were images of horrific demons and phantoms shown throughout.
Similar to my freshman year, I read a series of a book that I just couldn’t put down. That no matter what I was doing, I had to keep reading. This was the summer of my freshman year in college. I read The Program series by Suzanne Young and was so into the books. I would finish the first book, The Program, then start onto the next one and the next one. I didn’t even realize that I had finished the whole entire series until I couldn’t find the next book to the
At an early age I remember reading the most fascinating books. I’ve had many people in my life influence my love of reading. Those people were My parents, teachers and my tutors. My earliest memory of reading was when I was about five years old. My mother read to me “Oh The Places You’ll Go” By Dr. Sues. Today, that book still means so much to me even being eighteen years old. On my graduation day, our princle started her speech with a quote “Congratulations! Today is your day. You’re off to great places! You’re off and away.
The way I’ve gone through literature in the past and how I have gone through it now, have changed drastically. In fact, it has changed quite a bit. When I was once a wee lad, I used to read a lot. Mostly likely I would’ve read most of the time because my mother would make me read the same book over, and over, and over all the time. The book that we read together is Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. If I had my own copy today, I’d read it quite often on my own due to the current situation with my mother. This book had meant so much to me since I was a child because of the personal story that was created through the pages, the story of the bond between my mother and I. But, I believe that after reading
Especially when I was sat at the dining table, cramming hundreds of word in my brain before the next day, the due date for every second grader to read a whopping total of a thousand words. Given we had a few months to do this, but even at a young age I practiced the art of procrastination. This happened frequently during elementary school years, me freaking out, frantically turning pages of book after book. Words turned to squiggles that just got tossed into the dump of useless knowledge in my brain, as I hastily glanced over the pages. Pages with sentences that stretched for miles, with seemingly no end. Sweat beading at my forehead and fingers trembling, the dining room getting smaller and smaller, with that gross old book smell filling the atmosphere, my mind seriously hurt and my eyes strained, whether it be from the mush of words getting shoved into my mind, or my mom scolding me as I tried to read. Something about how procrastinating throughout school would get me working at McDonald’s? I wasn’t sure. I just knew that I hated reading.
Ron Padgett, the author of Creative Reading, recalls how he learned to read and write as though these things happened yesterday. Like Padgett, I tried recalling my reading and writing history.
The Chronicles of Narnia are the most influential books, and movies, of my childhood. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was the first fictional world I found myself exploring. The characters were the first ones I really fell in love with, and they were the first ones I found myself crying over. One of my earliest memories is sitting on my mom’s lap before bed, listening to the story of the Pevensie siblings meeting Mr. Tumnus. We never read completely through the book, but she still managed to hook me.
Although reading literature when being forced and for educational purposes has withered my once love of reading, I can still vividly remember where my love of reading began. My comfy living room couch holds my