Authorial_04_LA_FINAL_low_with watermark

Walt Disney gave us more than a
whole new world. He gave us magic.
A high-definition dreamland of make
believe where kings and queens, and
prince and princesses live among
mysterious creatures. Maître d’ turns
into a candelabra and a puppy into a
footstool. Pumpkins and apples are
more than what meets the eye. A
teenager rubs a lamp in the middle of
a desert and out comes a blue genie.
Round and round we go, spellbound,
as Disney’s creation takes us to the
land of far, far away. But like most
magicians performing tricks, behind
the curtain, he, too, had a secret.
In the real world, he lived as an
undiagnosed dyslexic.
Like most children who grew up
during the golden age of print and
television, my early memories of
learning to string words together are
with the characters of Disney and
my father. Every day after school I
would turn on the TV or take out my
storybooks. He would sit next to me
and listen. There were times I would
read something wrong, intentionally,
just to check if he’s really listening.
This went on in my learning years.
It was only when I got older that I
started to notice the things that my
father would never do. The whole time
I was reading to him, he never once
opened a book. He never wore a watch
like most fathers do in my school. And
there are words that are easy for me to
say but never as easy for him.
In an interview with Janice Tingley,
author and illustrator of children’s
books Nolan’s Dream and Nolan’s
Monsters, she shares that she already
knew she was different. She grew up
with dyslexia and she had been pained
authorial magazine | 13