When I was first becoming a "reader." I noticed that mom would record the title, author and date completed of the books she read in an old-style composition notebook. This was back in the 1970s. This inspried me to begin keeping a reading log too -- I never read as fast as mom, so my notebook filled far more slowly. When I got my first computer in the early 1980s, I transcribed the notebook into a database. That digital record has stuck with me for the past 40-plus years, traveling from one computer to another. Yet one more effect on my life from mom. 

Today I saw there was a new book from Doris Kearns Goodwin, an author mom enjoyed. I immediately thought, "Oh, I should get that for her." Then remembered my mother will not be reading any more books. 

Our mother loved books, kept them throughout the house as we were growing up. She instilled a love of books in me, though I am not sure if that was intentional on her part, or if I just gained that affection through osmosis. For me, it was always easy to find a gift for mom, whether at Christmas, Mother's Day or her birthday (or sometimes for no reason at all). I would see a book on the shelf at the book store and a little bell would go off, as it did with Goodwin's new book. "Mom would enjoy this."

And more often than not she would. I think my success in getting her books she enjoyed was due to two things: First, I did know her interests pretty well. But mostly I think it was a matter of mom's deep curiosity about the world and her willingness to absorb all kinds of information. She loved learning. I could probably have selected books blindfolded, and she'd still have liked them.

It was from mom's influence I became a reader. I think it was during our first summer in Hubbardton that mom made a rule that we could only watch an hour of TV for every hour we read. I was 13. When she first laid down this rule I thought I'd never be able to muster enough time with a book to watch any TV show. But a strange thing happened. I picked up a book that came in a box of paperbacks mom had bought at an auction for a couple of dollars. The book was a science fiction novel by Clifford Simak titled, Time is the Simplest Thing. I was mesmerized by the concepts and swept along in the mystery of the cosmos Simak presented. I tore through that book and quickly went on to others. Before long I had so much reading time logged, I'd never use it up on TV shows (especially since we only got two channels of fuzzy reception).