Reading to My Kids
“When they were little I read
to them at night
until my tongue
got tired. They
would poke me
when I started to
nod off after twenty pages
of Harry Potter
or Lemony Snicket.
I read (to them)
to get them to love reading
but I was never
sure if it was working
or if it was just
what I was supposed to do.
But one day, my
daughter (fifteen then)
was finishing Of
Mice and Men in the car
on our way to
basketball.
She was at the
end when I heard her say,
No, in a familiar frightened voice
and I knew right
away where she was.
“Let’s do it
now," Lennie begged,
“Let’s get that
place now.”
“Sure, right now.
I gotta. We gotta,”
and she started
crying, then I started crying,
and I think I saw
Steinbeck
in the back seat
nodding his head,
and it felt right
to me,
like I’d done
something right.”
—Kevin Carey, poet and writer, “Reading to My Kids,” The Writer’s
Almanac, Oct. 17, 2016
• Editorial Comment: Really? Does anyone read anymore?
PeezPix by Ted Pease
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