My love of editing came from my love of writing.

And my love of writing came from my love of reading.

I have always loved to read.

My mother taught me to read when I was around three years old. She noticed my curiosity about the letters on my alphabet blocks and invested in a set of magnetic letters—the kind one places on the refrigerator—and a Fisher-Price miniature schoolhouse with a magnetic roof on which to place the letters. She then showed me how to form different words with the letters: CAT, SAT, HAT, MAT…or SET, GET, WET…and so on. I remember how much fun that was.

My mother also read to me a great deal when I was preschool-aged. We took frequent trips to the local library to check out books. As I recall, my favorite was Peter Rabbit. I have wonderful memories of my mother reading that Beatrix Potter masterpiece to me. My eyes still get misty when I see a can of Enfamil with the drawings of Peter Rabbit’s family on it. (I find it revolting that Hollywood made a hyperactive children’s movie out of that book that, to my understanding, had nothing to do with the story.)

My love of books extended into my elementary years, when there were times when I would go over to a friend’s house and, instead of playing with Barbie dolls like my friend wanted to do, I would pull a book off of her shelf and start reading it. (Great social skills, eh?)

Fast forward more than 40 years. I am currently reading The Power to Change by Craig Groeschel, Rising Sun by Michael Crichton, and various passages in the Bible, plus all of the work that I am editing. And I could not be happier about it.

What are some of your earliest memories of reading?