J.W. Nicklaus resides in a place not entirely fit for human habitation about five months of the year. No pets to speak of, only the apparitions from which all romantics suffer.
An Arizona native, he’s been from one coast to the other, and a few places in between. College brought an AA in Journalism with a minor in Photography, and a Bachelor of Science in Telecommunications. His work experience has run the gamut from Creative Director for a small advertising firm in Tucson to a litigation support bureau in Phoenix (and assuredly some awkward stuff in the mix).
Snow has been featured prominently in his stories, perhaps because of the seasonless cli-mate he lives in. Nature was meant to be enjoyed and experienced, not hidden from the senses. So to that end, he hopes someday to live amongst those who are able to live through four true seasons, and not just blast furnace and warm.
He enjoys the occasional Arizona Diamondbacks game with his son, as well as watching him grow up. The experience of being a single dad has taught him far more about himself than he ever thought possible.
Within the expanse of every waking moment, he hopes his guardian angel keeps its arms open wide and heart ever watchful, for there but for one true Hope goes She.
A collection of short stories, each a splinter's reflection of the human condition, firmly centered upon our oft tenuous, sometimes tensile bond with Hope, and careening flirtation with Love.
Fifteen stories: From the wispy fog of a love lost at sea, to an orphaned child who delivers a present of her own during a war-torn Christmas. These stories are gentle reminders to each of us of what it is to be human, and certainly of our affinity for the slightest glint of Hope.
GUEST POST:
Stacks of 'em. Row upon row of shelves happily choked with books of all sizes and a dizzying cornucopia of titles. Mom made sure my brother and I made frequent visits to the library when we were younger, and yet I can't possibly recall the first book I ever checked out—or read for that matter.
What I can recall was unrelenting encouragement towards reading in our household.. Spending time in the library was something I always looked forward to, for a couple reasons: (1) it was quiet and welcoming, and (2) a good part of the year in Arizona it's hot enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk, so the library was a cool retreat.
Four very specific things come to mind as I consider the question of loving to read or write.
1. RIF (Reading Is Fundamental)
2. Scholastic magazine and book ordering in class
3. Read-A-Thons
4) Schoolhouse Rocks
Numbers one and four are, believe it or not, distantly related in my world. For many years I watched Saturday morning television—I bet many of you did too: HR Puff'nStuff, Land of the Lost, Hanna-Barbera cartoons, Bugs Bunny/ RoadRunner Show, The Pink Panther, etc. Many of those Saturday mornings we'd see PSA's (Public Service Announcements) for RIF and the RIF mobile's as they'd wend their way through the state. I never went to one, but even at that time I thought it was pretty cool to bring reading to kids who might not otherwise get much exposure to its pleasures.
Schoolhouse Rocks taught the basics of language structure through the guise of entertainment. Remember A Noun's A Person, Place or Thing, Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, Get Your Adverbs Here, and Conjunction Junction? I still do. To this day I can trace my familiarity with how a bill becomes law back to I'm Just A Bill. Mixed in with all the animation were the PSA’s for RIF. Thankfully their efforts continue to this day at RIF.org.
I can't speak for the school you went to, but in my elementary school years they used to hand out a 'magazine' from Scholastic Books (I believe it was them) from which we could order books and they'd be delivered to the classroom. I certainly don't remember my parents ever saying I couldn't order any books. I couldn't wait for those books to arrive! Get home and show them off, then go plunk down on my bed and start reading—which was normally the same place where I did my reading for those Read-A-Thons. Do they do those anymore? You'd get people to pledge a certain amount for each book you completed in a one or two week span and the money collected went to some worthwhile charity (or maybe even the schools themselves; I never really cared, I was just reading).
Time, and the educational system, have a way of stifling the pleasure to read. Eventually you have to read stuff you wouldn't ordinarily dream of picking up given your druthers. But here's the key: A lot of that dreaded required reading opened up completely new avenues I never would have considered traveling. We read books like Homer's Odyssey, The Iliad, All Quiet On the Western Front, and To Kill A Mockingbird. I'm not going to tell you that I suddenly ran amuck and absorbed any piece of classic literature I could find, not even close. But it did give me a deeper appreciation for fine writing. Eventually I wound up reading the likes of Ernest Hemingway, John Steinbeck, and Mark Twain, authors who have undoubtedly influenced my own writing style to some degree.
I'm not quite certain that anyone is born a 'reader'. I'm more inclined to believe that a love of reading is a factor of developmental environment. My parents have, as near as my faintest memory allows, always had a book to read, and I've always encouraged my son to read. If ever he found a book he was interested in I'd always buy it, regardless of cost. Even now, he's reading some of the same books I read in school. I fervently hope that he, too, tends to the glowing embers of pleasurable reading, and will never be further than a page away from immersing himself in the wonders of imagination and flights of thought that reading can quietly provide.
Thanks for the opportunity to guest post, Naida! This has been a lot of fun!
Thank you J.W. Nicklaus for stopping by! Yes I do remember watching Land of the Lost and the Hanna-Barbera cartoons. And I do remember R.I.F and Schoolhouse Rocks. Thanks for the great guest post.
