I wasn’t the best in the class, but I was a bright kid. But that was through the ears, not through the eyes. I listened, and I enjoyed being able to put things together in my own way.
I never learned to read. I faked it. I went all the way to college and couldn’t read. Now, I could read – pour over a title of a book and maybe read the initial sentence, but I had no staying power. I was so hyperactive that it was difficult for me to concentrate. If you can’t concentrate, you can’t read.
And it became exceedingly difficult when I got to college; sort of like walking around with a bird egg in your pants pocket, hoping not to break it. I went to college in order to probably learn to read – that was my number-one goal – and secondly, to change the odds in my life that I would remain locked to a garden in Hiawatha, Kansas.
