RE_5539

I LOVED this chapter! It made me think alot about my family and how THEIR experiences shaped and molded my own. My father is one of sixteen children. His dad was about 30 years older than my grandmother. She was his second wife. His first wife died in childbirth. My grandmother was a teenager when she married him. They lived on a farm and relied on what they grew (animals and vegetables) for food. Needless to say, they were poor. They lived in southern West Virginia and raised their family during the Depression. My dad never finished high school. He was forced to quit school to help take care of the family when his father for sick. This is something he is very embarrassed about. Going to school was very important to him. This is why he pushed my sister and I to not only graduate from high school, but to go to college. My dad worked from the age of 14. When he was 17 he lied about his age and got a job working underground in the coal mines. He worked in the mines until he was disabled at the age of 50. I didn't have a real understanding or appreciation for the efforts he put in to take care of his family until I became an adult. I couldn't imagine going underground where there is no sunshine to work in small areas to remove coal. While the conditions are much better in these modern days, it would still be an unbearable way to make a living.

I remember my dad reading to my sister and me when we were little girls. It wasn't a process that he seemed overly comfortable with. Don't get me wrong. My dad can read. It's just not something he did for pleasure. He read for a purpose.

My mom also grew up in southern West Virginia. Her dad was a coal miner and her mom did odd jobs to make extra money, like doing laundry or ironing. They lived in a "coal camp" when my mom was small. (A "coal camp" is a town where the houses are owned by the coal company. The miners lived in the houses, a nice way of saying shacks, as part of their payment for working in the mines.) Her family was poor when she was young. As she got older they earned more money, but were still "working class." They didn't make enough to send their children to college. My mom always wanted to go to college. She had a penchant for writing and wanted to be a writer. And she loved to read! I remember her taking my sister and me to the library. She would let us check oiut "as many books you want" from the library. This is one of the things that made me to love to read. (To this day my mother, sister, and I trade books.) Reading for pleasure became a hobby I learned from my mother.

I never really thought that my mom and dad's life experiences affected my literacy acquisition, but now I see they did. Had I only been exposed to my dad's view of reading, I probably never would've learned to enjoy reading. It's amazing how life experiences dictate so much of our being.