It was 1961 and I was in the fifth grade. My marks in school were miserable and, the thing was, I didn’t know enough to really care. My older bother and I lived with Mom in a dingy multi-family house in Detroit. We watched TV every night. The background noise of our lives was gunfire and horses’ hoofs from “Wagon Train” or “Cheyenne”, and laughter from “I Love Lucy”, or “Mister Ed”. After supper, we’d sprawl on Mon’s bed and stare for hours at the tube.

But one day Mom changed our world forever. She turned off the TV. Our mother had only been able to get through third grade. But, she was much brighter and smarter than we boys know at the time. She had noticed something in the suburban houses she cleaned books. So she came home one day, snapped off the TV, sat us down and explained that her sons were going to make something of themselves. “You boys are going to read two books every week,” she said. “And you’re going to write a report on what you read.”