The Magic of Reading

The book that Bucky the Dog is reading is a bit smaller than the tip of your thumb.

Some of the happiest times in my life have been spent with a book, either reading alone, reading to a child or listening to a new reader discover the magic of reading. One memory I cherish is one of my sitting on the floor, reading aloud from A.A. Milne's book, Now We Are Six, as Tall Son and his friends were gathered around, dressed in pajamas and robes before bedtime. Never mind that they were visiting on college break, they hung to every word of Milne's poems. This was their favorite:

When I Was One
by A. A. Milne

When I was one,
I had just begun.

When I was two,
I was nearly new.

When I was three,
I was hardly me.

When I was four,
I was not much more.

When I was five,
I was just alive.

But now I’m six,
I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six now,
forever and ever!

P.S. It is a tradition in our family to give each child a copy of "Now We Are Six," on their sixth birthday.

A Good Book and the Right Chair

At the Bunny Bungalow: a 1930's club chair, recovered in leather from Installations Antiques

A good book, the right chair and the time to indulge in idleness; what a luxury...or is it? For some of us reading is a necessity; a way to feed our imaginations; to expand our horizons; to connect with like minds that affirm our perspectives; or to discover minds that are startlingly strange to us, that give us different views of ourselves and of the world. In books, the writer opens up, revealing secrets that would not, could not be shared face-to-face over a cup of tea. Reading is such an intimate tête-à-tête. And the voyeur in us pushes us to turn the next page.