What makes someone a reader?

Doesn’t everyone love stories?

I think I was born loving books. In Beaver Dam, I loved the old stuffy, overheated public library when I was a child. The wide entrance stairway led to a foyer where you could go left to the adult area. Or, you could turn right and go up a creaky flight of stairs to the children’s room. It held a vague feeling of…expectation. Continue reading →