I have a confession. I love to read, love the library and have little affinity for electronic gadgets. It all started about a million years ago when I was a kid. It seems that the first book I read by myself was “Call of the Wild,” and from that point on I was in love.
I grew up in the Denver area and just about wore out my library card and the staff at the Adams County Public Library. When I got my first job, I wore out my bank account by raiding Walden Books and buying history, mystery, horror and all sorts of other books. All of these books proved to be an escape for me from an odd home life and the fact I was kind of quiet, shy and had low self esteem.
I would, for example, read Edgar Rice Burroughs’ excellent John Carter series, and guess what? I would find myself on the surface of Mars in my mind, defending the beautiful Deja Thoris from some monster or other malcontent. I could be Joe Hardy, Nancy Drew or Jupiter Jones. I’d become Tom Swift, Conan the Barbarian or Doc Savage. I could see, feel and live what I read about.
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