I do not remember much about learning to read. As a child, I spent most of my time outside, exploring landscapes that became World War II battlefields, plane crash sites, and South Pacific jungles. I don’t remember being read to by my parents. There was no TV in those days, but I remember listening to the radio. First grade [there was no such thing as Kindergarten] was like a big play group — finger painting and talking to my friends are what I remember most. Our teacher, Miss Henry, was just out of college and she read to us every day. I listened from the corner most of the time, where I was sent for talking too much. We must have been a wild and wooly bunch, because she quit teaching at the end of the year and went to work at Richs
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