Fall colors are turning, the wood stove stoked and little slivers of frost on the pane. I live in Pennsylvania in 1953. School was starting and I was a bright, eager reader. I was 6 years old in the first grade. The chubby hands lugged the book, almost as big as the size second grade.
My mother and I read fairy tales, Aesop’s fables and Uncle Arthur’s bedtime stories by heart. I love to read. So, the texts were easy for me in the first grade. I spouted words and phrases constantly. I went to the second grade and debut as a reader.
The room was sizeable, filled with kids, and I read Henny Penny. Henny was a chicken with extreme paranoia, the fable goes. Disaster is imminent. The teachers and children were impressed. I continued reading.
Harbinger Henny Penny exclaimed, “The sky is falling!” She bopped the acorn mistakely to her noggin. "A piece of sky fell on my head!" said the fowl.