Many years ago I would travel down to the local library every few days and scan the stacks for any books that caught my eye. This was a leftover habit I shared with my mother back in Southern California. But she was the champ: she would walk into that library with a stack of books she had just read and would end up walking out of the library with a new stack of books to read.
My mother surprisingly had read most of the well-known classics and in her later years had turned to mysteries and then when those were all gone she took up those big fat historical romances with Fabio on the cover. It’s hard to believe but she would regularly read three of those romances in a single day. So when I suggest that she read a lot, it’s true. My mom didn’t always read books I would be proud to read and she was seldom up for a rousing discussion of the merits of English Literature, but she did read a lot.