Bogs seem to be fulled with question that the writers are answering for other people. I think it might be more interesting to answer my own questions. I might learn more.
1. What books are the first you remember reading?
I must have been reading before these but I remember reading Greek and Roman myths in the fourth grade. Our teacher read them to us during "Story Time" and I got hooked. By seventh grade I'd read most of the myths from Greece and Rome. I worked in the library during my study hall. I asked the librarian if she could recommend any to me. I'd read all she could think of including the Iliad and the Odyssey. She finally came up with The Golden Bough which I had to admit to her that I'd tried to read but found it a little too complicated.
This fourth grade Storytime led me to think I wanted to be a philosophy major at university. Nope. Only disagreements there. So I changed to psychology. Rat with wires in their heads didn't interest me at all. Finally I ended up a Social Psychology/ Cultural Anthropology major. Yep! Bingo! It seems I wanted to know why people acted the way they do.
2. What kid dreams did I have? I always left my window open at least a crack so Peter Pan could get in. The idea of flying off to Never Neverland seemed like a wonderful adventure to have. I probably thought it would be much more fun and less dangerous than running from my genetic father.
I am learning! The answer to number 1 leads to the reason much of my art and poetry has mythological elements. Number 2 might have something....or lots...to do with why the color of the sky where I live is so different from most people's sky color.
Here' a poem that shows my love of myths:
What did she feel, she who dared
compare herself to others,
who risked the wrath of Aphrodite,
challenging Beauty herself?
and Beauty’s insecurity responded,
changing her enchantment
into a different kind.
Medusa’s tresses began
to writhe upon her brow
shadowing her bewitching eyes.
Were Medusa’s eyes brown or blue or green?
When she saw the men who once adored her,
whose hearts she filled with warmth and joy,
turn into cold, gray stone,
what did she feel?
Were there tears in Medusa’s eyes?