The Raven and other thoughts

In the holiday spirit of Halloween, all I can think of is Edgar Allan Poe. He's really the reason that I ever took an interest in poetry. Well, actually, it's because my dad would read me Poe until I could read it myself. My first and favorite poem was "The Raven"; I was in first grade. I even memorized the first stanza or so. Anytime an opportunity came up with the "--or" sound, we would rhyme out loud, "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore!'"

In the evenings, after elementary school and before I got into after-school activities like bowling and band and basketball, I would change in to my pajamas and curl my lanky limps on my dad's lap. Together, we read books like The Mad Scientist Club and The Yearling. I was a fast learner when it came to reading, and I have him to thank. We read most every night, as long as we were done before eight o'clock when Mom would watch "Wheel of Fortune" and we'd all race to solve the puzzles before the contestants. Some nights, we only got a few pages read, but it always felt like an accomplishment.

It especially felt that way because I was still just starting to read. We had a few kid's books but not many, save for an entire Dr. Seuss collection. They were fine, but I liked the books that Dad gave me. They suited us in some way. They seemed boyish, but I loved being a Daddy's girl. I would read aloud until I got to a word that I didn't know or couldn't pronounce, and Dad would help me out.

I just got a flash of the To Kill a Mockingbird film scene of Atticus and Scout reading together. How lovely. (Dad, you give Gregory Peck a run for his money!)

Photo from: http://www.imdb.com/media/rm3306404608/tt0056592

So "The Raven" was way up there on our reading list. I wonder if my dad ever got tired of hearing that same poem again and again. I just loved the rhymes and the stanzas and the eery feeling that I certainly didn't understand at six and seven years old.

Sometimes, even now, as I age into my twenties, I still sit on my dad's lap when we're at the table after dinner or at a holiday get-together. At first he always whines that I'm too big for that, but then he laughs and wraps his arms around me in a squeeze, saying, "Aw! My Daddy's girl!" We don't read together anymore because now, I do the writing.

Here is a link to 'The Raven' by Poe.

Oh, and my dad's birthday was October 30th! Happy birthday, Dad!