L.T. Flynt was a giant of a man. Towering over 6’4”, he cut an imposing figure. However, not once, not even as a blanket toting little girl, did I ever feel the least bit intimidated in his presence. Instead he reminded me of a round-bellied, jolly old elf. Every time his smile pushed his rosy cheeks into his twinkling impish eyes, you knew that a laugh was sure to follow. He was the pastor of our small church in South Park from three weeks before I was born, and until long after I left my home in Seattle to go to college in Portland, Oregon. Better than eighteen years of influence on my spiritual journey.

I knew that he loved me because he used to call me “Betty Ruth,” as if my first and middle names were one word. Everyone who loved me called me that. When I went off to college and came home for visits, he didn’t seem to mind that I was beginning to think for myself and would express my opinions in the “adult” Sunday school class. Nothing too earth shaking, mind you, but he always encouraged me to express myself.

I have a favorite picture of him. It was taken on the day he married my mother and father in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in 1931. My parents had to stand on the stairs to get near his height for the picture. I had another picture of him taken a year or so after he married my husband and I in 1967. Unfortunately, since we moved I haven’t been able to find it. It was taken when we stopped by to see him. I remember he was seated in a comfortable rocker recliner with a book in his hands. It’s that particular memory that has inspired this post.

Brother Flynt, as I affectionately called him, was a reader. It was his habit to read about forty books every year. That was an amazing number to me in those days. It was before we all carried around little computers in our pockets that have allowed us to have whole libraries of books streamed into our ears while we do other things like, driving, or walking, my personal favorite. Imagine, forty books a year!

So, he has inspired me all these years to be a good reader. One of my friends put a challenge on Facebook this year to post the name of a book, including a book cover, each day for a week without comment. I took the challenge, but I have to say that it was really frustrating. I mean, come on! Not being able to say why I had chosen each book? Well, I’ve decided to remedy the situation and begin to write a book review from time to time.

Obviously, I’m not the only reader out there, so let me encourage you to share some titles with me and why you have liked them. You are not too young to take in good books. Take it from my youngest grandchild, Enzo. He started reading at three and when he was asked a while ago how he happened to come by some rather obscure piece of information his answer was simple. “Books, books, books!”