tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post8762831624315040365..comments2024-03-10T16:42:34.106-04:00Comments on Collecting Children's Books: Mother's Day BrunchPeter D. Sierutahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09301507180150710089noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-62876770659753079142011-05-17T13:33:01.817-04:002011-05-17T13:33:01.817-04:00My mother made me a reader simply by keeping so ma...My mother made me a reader simply by keeping so many books in the house. The hundreds of books stacked on the shelves always had an aura of mystery and intrigue, of being forbidden fruits that I would have to pass a rite of passage to understand. And so aged 10 I determinedly struggled through Shakespeare and TS Eliot, not properly understanding them buy feeling as if I had gained an admission ticket to the strange world of grown-ups.Elli Woollardhttp://chitchatryhmes.wordpress.com/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-47631740023783540402011-05-10T08:07:58.346-04:002011-05-10T08:07:58.346-04:00"You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets..."You may have tangible wealth untold;<br />Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.<br />Richer than I you can never be --<br />I had a Mother who read to me."<br /> . . . . Strickland Gilliland<br /><br />(Of course it was my mom who made me a reader, but then later she was always saying "Go outside and play in the fresh air." She used to be afraid I would get rickets!--how, I don't know, since all I drank was milk and I took vitamins as well. Why would I want to go out in the sun and get a headache when I could sit somewhere cool and read? Ah, well...)Lindahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00684124498981972463noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-28324240299567650192011-05-09T21:30:13.196-04:002011-05-09T21:30:13.196-04:00My mother, children's poet Valerie Worth, who ...My mother, children's poet Valerie Worth, who received the NCTE Poetry Award for her Small Poems books, read aloud to me all of the Beatrix Potter books, over and over and over again. We had old Frederick Warne editions, which had blank pages where the quartos were stitched together. Whenever we got to the blank pages, we said together, "That's enough of nothing." She also read me many fairy tales from Andrew Lang's fairy books, and poems from Sung Under the Silver Umbrella, illustrated by Dorothy Lathrop. Appropriately, I now work in a beautiful, old Victorian public library, reading to children at story times. Thanks, Mama.Calliopehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07208284452879312774noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-88259683789133590202011-05-09T13:24:44.468-04:002011-05-09T13:24:44.468-04:00My mother was very good about never censoring anyt...My mother was very good about never censoring anything I read even though, like most obsessive readers, I consumed a lot of junk. The only book she ever took away from me (when I was around 11 or 12) was Lady Chatterly's Lover, and that was because I was reading the suggestive bits out loud to my best friend.Laura Canonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16574566234310522696noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-75957360521768444192011-05-09T08:53:32.638-04:002011-05-09T08:53:32.638-04:00Oh, the Moffats! One of my favorite families of al...Oh, the Moffats! One of my favorite families of all time! And yes, my mother and father both made me want to be a reader. They read everything from newspapers to poetry and read all kinds of books to my sisters and me. One of my mother’s books that we all read to ourselves rather than aloud was a beautiful old copy of ANNE OF GREEN GABLES that she had received as a prize for good grades in school. Re-reading that book takes me back to hot, lazy summer days on the front porch, with my mother nearby, somewhere in the house. All was right with the world.P. J. Grathhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12693462910472164289noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-12893602708644537922011-05-08T23:29:06.657-04:002011-05-08T23:29:06.657-04:00I too grew up with Milne. I especially remember No...I too grew up with Milne. I especially remember Now we are six. Currently I am reading it to my grandchildren.Esperanzanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-22159581535963952662011-05-08T20:57:27.253-04:002011-05-08T20:57:27.253-04:00Children made my mother nervous. As soon as I was ...Children made my mother nervous. As soon as I was old enough to read on my own, she sent me to my room to read. She was not a reader herself, but she understood how it could benefit her in other ways. I was quiet, not underfoot and she knew where I was. After a while, I was going to my room without being bidden. This ended up backfiring because when I was older and she began to enjoy my company more, I preferred to be alone with a book. I think she also made me a writer. She would throw my thank-you notes back at me with a withering "That's BORING! I'm not goning to waste a 3-cent stamp on that! Change it!"Bybeehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10061186489010154661noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7046320545497573335.post-79162871824578595352011-05-08T19:31:52.767-04:002011-05-08T19:31:52.767-04:00When I was five or six (this would have been 1976)...When I was five or six (this would have been 1976), my mom took a university class on children's lit, and read most of the books on the syllabus to my sister and me. She says I told her that I hoped she flunked! Under questioning, it was revealed that I assumed she would have to take the class over again, with a whole new set of really good books to read to us.grrlpuphttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09755649595417118072noreply@blogger.com