I learned to read in Spanish first.

When I arrived at my first grade classroom, I did so without any preparation or idea of what would be taking place there. The school I went to belonged to my aunt, my mother’s sister-in-law, and I thought it was just a fun family thing.  Living in Venezuela, all parties were fun family things, and I thought this was just an extension of that. So when I arrived in the classroom and a primer was put in front of me with the teacher sitting by my side trying to drum into me that letters actually meant something, and that combinations of letters formed words, I was at a loss.

Once I understood what the teacher was trying to get across, I breezed through that primer so that I could get on to the next book, the one that had stuff about the history, geography, and civics of Venezuela in it.  And I wanted to be able to sit with my dad and read the newspaper just like he did. And I wanted to read comic books, not just look at the pictures.  And books!  Wow! I would also be able to read books! And I was off!

At first, learning was something that happened in school, reading the various text books – and 50+ years ago in Venezuela, we had text books starting in first grade.  It was also clear to me that learning happened from reading the newspaper, too.  My dad was the smartest man I knew and he read the newspaper every day, front to back.  I remember how proud he was when I read my first article out loud to him!  Made me pretty proud, too!

Books, on the other hand, were to escape.  I loved them.  They took me to a whole other world.  Mostly because the books my parents bought for me were what they considered appropriate for a little girl:  fairy tales and myths and legends.  I loved curling up in a chair with my book and imagining the worlds and the actions that were being described.  It was like having a movie screen in my head…and I loved movies, too!

Over the years, I realized that I could learn from books, and so I evolved from reading for entertainment to reading with a purpose: to gather information.  As you can imagine, 50+ years encompasses a LOT of reading–and a lot of different reasons to read!

I read your blogs, as many as I possibly can, because I’m interested in what you have to say. Each one of you perfect expressions of self has a unique way of experiencing and understanding this dream that we call life, and I’m interested in knowing how that’s unfolding for you. Even though we may have similar feelings and understandings about certain things, the key word there is “similar.” They are not the same.  They can’t be the same because our frames of reference are not the same. And while I’m comforted by our similarities, I revel in our differences.  “Ah,” I might think, “so THAT’s how So-And-So experienced that particular thing. I would have never thought of that!”

I suspect that I’m not much different from anyone else in that respect: we all read because we’re interested. I already know what’s going on inside my head and that’s what I’m attempting to write and express.  Another point of view, however, is ALWAYS interesting.  I don’t have to like it.  I don’t have to enjoy it. I don’t have to agree with it.  And I ALWAYS learn something from it!

So, I urge all of you: Please keep writing so that I can keep reading! Write what’s true for you.  Write your hopes and dreams, your doubts and fears.  Write it all because someone, somewhere will read it and be enriched. Be generous with your thoughts and ideas. Remember that when someone judges your writing, they are judging from and for their own experience–it really has very little to do with you, personally. Even as writing is a very intimate, revelatory experience, so it is for the reader as well: what it reveals to the reader about the reader, not the writer.

Hmmm, I’m going to sit and ponder that for a while…and then I’ll go read YOUR blogs!