Barbara Bush's Family Reading Tips 1. Establish a routine for reading aloud. 2. Make reading together a special time. 3. Try these simple ways to enrich reading aloud with your children: --Move your finger under the words as you read. --Let your child help turn the pages. --Take turns reading words, sentences or pages. --Pause and ask open-ended questions such as, "How would you feel if you were that person?" or "What do you think might happen next?" --Look at the illustrations and talk about them. --Change your voice as you read different characters' words. Let your child make up voices. --Keep stories alive by acting them out. 4. Ask others who take care of your children to read aloud. 5. Visit the library regularly. 6. Let your children see you reading. 7. Read all kinds of things together. 8. Fill your home with opportunities for reading. 9. Keep reading aloud even after your children learn to read.
Barbara Bush (1925 -)
Source: The Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy
If you ask me to name the proudest distinction of Americans, I would choose . . . the fact that they were the people who created the phrase "to make money." No other language or nation had ever used these words before. . . . Americans were the first to understand that wealth has to be created.
What did they seek from him? What were they after? He had never asked anything of them; it was they who wished to hold him, they who pressed a claim on him - and they seemed to have the form of affection, but it was a form which he found harder to endure than any sort of hatred. He despised causeless affection, just as he despised unearned wealth. They professed to love him for some unknown reason and they ignored all the things for which he could wish to be loved. He wondered what response they could hope to obtain from him in such manner - if his response was what they wanted. And it was, he thought; else why those constant complaints, those unceasing accusations about his indifference? Why that chronic air of suspicion, as if they were waiting to be hurt? He had never had a desire to hurt them, but he had always felt their defensive, reproachful expectation; they seemed wounded by anything he said, it was not a matter of his words or actions, it was almost . . . almost as if they were wounded by the mere fact of his being. Don't start imagining the insane - he told himself severely, struggling to face the riddle with the strictest of his ruthless sense of justice. He could not condemn them without understanding; and he could not understand.
Never fear big long words. Big long words mean little things. All big things have little names, Such as life and death, peace and war, Or dawn, day, night, hope, love, home. Learn to use little words in a big way. It is hard to do, But they say what you mean. When you don't know what you mean, Use big words That often fools little people.
Husband and Wife Whatever I said and whatever you said, I love you. The word and the moment forever have fled; I love you. The breezes may ruffle the stream in its flow, But tranquil and clear are the waters below; And under all tumult you feel and you know I love you. Whatever you did and whatever I did, I love you. Whatever is open, whatever is hid, I love you. The strength of the oak makes the tempest a mock, The anchor holds firm in the hurricane's shock; Our love is the anchor, the oak and the rock. I love you. Whatever I thought and whatever you thought, I love you. The mood and the passion that made it are naught; I love you. For words, thoughts and deeds, though they rankle and smart, May never delude us or hold us apart Who treasure this talisman deep in the heart "I love you."
One dearer to me than all else in life had, for days, lain helpless, speechless. Consciousness was gone. We knew that the mortal mists were fast gathering; that the irremediable river must soon be crossed. The last morning of our watching was misty; the day emerged so wanly that we hardly knew that it had come. Suddenly the one we loved so dearly sat up in bed, a strange light on her face of a happiness past all our mortal joy. She stretched abroad her arms, crying in the radiant abandon of spiritual certainty, "The dawn! The beautiful Dawn!" Those were her dying words-glad, triumphant. And for me they hold the eternal promise of a sunrise. They glow with immortality. In every sense, our mortal dawn that day was anything but beautiful; but she saw the beginning of an immortal day. Believing in a God of infinite love and of infinite power, I find it natural to believe that death is not a disastrous sundown but rather a spiritual sunrise, ushering in the unconjectured splendors of immortality. . . . Sunrise suggests to me not only the power of God grandly to continue what He has begun but it also conveys the reassurance of the Creator's love returning to us daily, bringing joy and forgiveness; and to any reflective heart it intimates that no night is final; for, since with God all things are possible, His almighty love has, I confidently believe, prepared for us a radiant future beyond the sundown of death. And if I meditate but momentarily upon what He has done and upon what He does do, confidence in immortality is natural, reasonable, and, to my way of believing, to be counted upon as infallible as the sunrise.