I realized today that it’s been a long time since I’ve tried to take on any challenges. It’s time that changed.
I have always been a voracious reader. When I walked into a library or bookstore as a kid I started drooling like a 400 pound man in a Golden Corral. By the time I was around 6 years old I had devoured every single book my parents had given me and Mom was forced to surrender her sizable Stephen King collection – by 7 I’d finished them all.
I remember the very first book report I ever delivered in school. The kid before me had just rocked his presentation of Green Eggs and Ham. As he passed me on the way to his seat he allowed himself a smug little smirk in my direction – he knew that’d be a tough act to follow.
I gathered my things and strolled to the front of the room. Turning to the class I unveiled my visual aid with a flourish, a posterboard Crayola marker drawing of a viking beheading a cannibal in battle. Eyes visibly widened as they took it in. I quietly cleared my throat.
“My book report will be on Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crighton,” I explained.
The look on the teacher’s face was fantastic.