Comics

They were only comics.

Well, comic books.

My older brother Steve would set me on his lap in the living room. We always perched in the rocking chair furthest from the kitchen, the one that spun all the way around (& drove mom crazy when we did it). The comics tended to be either from the Marvel or DC universes—Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Spiderman, Green Lantern, The Phantom….

At the age of two & three I had dreams of flying through the air, swinging from Spidey webs, magic lassoes or bat cables, having eyes with x-ray & heat vision, & transforming from little ole me into a superhero who fought crime, defended the defenseless & stood for all that was good & true.

But I also had a question. How did Steve know which balloon to read when & in what order? He would point to the pictures in each panel as he read, but not to what was written.

I had a working hypothesis. He moved from one panel to another left to right, top to bottom. Probably the words & balloons worked in the same manner. But how could I know for sure?

I didn’t want to ask him. I wanted to figure it out for myself. So one evening I went to mom in the kitchen & asked her to teach me the alphabet. She wrote it out for me on a sheet of paper & told me what each letter was & how it sounded. I promptly sat down at the dinner table & began to practice.

I have no idea how many sheets of paper I burned through sitting at that table while my brothers watched tv. But before too long I knew my ABCs—both how to print them & how to sing them. That, of course, was not enough. I also wanted to know how to write them in that fancy way where you don’t lift the pencil from the paper between letters.

I could never remember capital “Q”. “Just like the number two,” mom answered every time I asked.

Mom would sit with me in the living room, helping me to sound out words. Before long she began buying children’s books with the promise that as soon as I had read one all the way through, it was mine.

At the age of four I started building my library of Little Golden Books.

Comic books—not even graphic novels, just simple comics. A brother taking the time to read them to me. An unspoken curiosity sparking a toddler’s investigation. A mother willing to help me learn long before I was in school.

I’ve loved reading ever since.

And it still feels good to know that I was correct at such a tender young age. Left to right, top to bottom, turn the page & keep on reading.