During Christmas vacation, I not only read blogs, e-mails and tweets, I read books:
- Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
- Matched by Ally Condie
- A Blunt Instrument by Georgette Heyer
- The New Capitalist Manifesto by Umair Haque
- Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
All were good, some were great. But that's not what I'm grateful for. Well I am, but even more fundamentally, I am grateful that I can read. That I can see to read, and that I know how to read.
Do you remember when you read your first words (mine were Run with Dick and Jane)? I was four. I also remember being eight, sitting in the car, and realizing that I could decipher billboards and street signs. My world had expanded, as if by magic.
I can read.
How did you feel when you realized you understood what words meant?
How would your life be different if you couldn't read?
