mom

Mother read me the same story/poem about Little Orphan Annie. It scared me in the delightful way good horror stories, read well, do. I think the same book included a poem about a woodpecker:

The woodpecker pecked out a little round hole
And made him a house in a telephone pole.
One day while I watched, he poked out his head,
And he had on a hood and a collar of red.

When the streams of rain pour out of the sky,
And the sparkels of lightning come flashing by,
And the big, big sheets of thunder roll,
He can snuggle back in the telephone pole.

(Elizabeth Roberts)

I looked it up to be sure I remembered the lines correctly and discovered the author.

I believe it is because of the stories and poems my mother read to me that I became an English literature major as an undergrad. That, and the fact that she encouraged reading above all else; I was delighted to oblige.

What a great Dad you are!