While cleaning out the basement,  I came across the following paper from my ninth grade writing class.  (Actually, my voice student Andrew Spinelli is the one who came across this and – for all I know-  single-handedly saved this from being thrown into recycling.  So I am in his debt.) I give it to you exactly as I wrote it . . .  35 years ago.  I don’t blame you if you get bored and start skipping ahead,  but make sure you read the last paragraph:

Reading has always been a big thing in our family. My dad always has had a lot of books (He’s a minister) but they were always so scholarly and long that I never paid much attention. But just the fact that he had so many books awed me, and I was rather abruptly started into the reading world.

I started reading fairly early (earlier than most kids) but neither my mom or dad remember specifically when it was. I started reading my first words in first grade.  We had the Dick, Jane, Sally books with the 3 word sentences and 4-page stories.  Mom always had Dr. Seuss books around, and I still remember her reading them to me.

The first book I read alone was a Dr. Seuss book called Go Dog! Go!  I also read this book about a telephone pole that got bored and tried to be other things.  Toeady, I’ll come across one of those early books and will breeze through them in less than a minute. But I clearly remember stumbling and struggling through books like that.

But I enjoyed it.  I’d be fascinated by the simplest of stories. I especially remember a story in third grade about a steam shovel that was forced into a race with a bigger machine so see which could dig faster.  The steam shovel won, but was trapped in the basement he had dug. So he was changed into a furnace.  I remember that I thought the story was real and would constantly beg Mom and Dad about seeing this “world famous” steam shovel. It seems dumb, now, but I’m glad i was so interested in reading.  My parents really influenced me.

I specifically remember when i was in 2nd grade that I really got turned on to non-fiction. By the time I was in third grade, I was in love with the World Book Encyclopedia and would myself to sleep with it. i probably couldn’t read half the words in it,  but I still felt very intellectual.

Right now, I’m reading a lot of my Dad’s books that I sorta passed over before.  A lot of them still are too hard for me, but at least I’m really getting into it.

I like to read magazines a super lot. Especially newsweek, which I consider the very finest-made magazine in the U.S.  I read a lot of sports tooo, but only football and tennis. Newspapers always bored me, and I’ve never really enjoyed reading them too much.

Everyone in my family except my Junior High-age brother likes to read, and they all use the library a lot. I don’t too much, because I’m always forgetting to bring my books back.

I’ve always liked to read, and still do, though my interest in it is wilting a little right now. I guess since I’ve always had a lot of books around me, it’s just kind of rubbed off.  I suppose in a few years, I’ll have my own study with shelves and shelves of books for my kids to look at in awe.

Anyone who knows me and has been in my studio at the house knows that I do indeed have my own study with shelves and shelves of books.   And even that last phrase is true to the extent that you could call my voice students “my kids” – at least the younger ones – and that when they first walk into that studio, most of them get this rather awestruck look on their faces as if  they’ve just walked into the Smithsonian Institution.  So I guess I did a pretty good job of forecasting my future.

One thing that mystifies me a bit is when I mention how my interest is books “is wilting a little right now.”  I have no recollection of going through any sort of phase like that – none whatsoever –  but even if there was a little wilting phase as I began high school,  I would seem to have recovered from it rather decisively.   (To say the least.)

pictured above:  Me,  NOT in ninth grade –  but wearing one of my ties with books on it.