When I was a kid, my earliest memories were of my house in the Ponce de Leon Federal Housing Project in Ybor City, Tampa. No, it wasn't the barrio, today Ponce de Leon is a dismal and dangerous slum, but when I was growing up there it was a poor, but decent working class neighborhood, mostly Cuban (there was a large immigrant Cuban population in Tampa since the turn of the century, way before Castro). The closest analogue I can think of is the Yiddish-speaking population of New York in the early 20th century.

The previous tenant had left several books in our apartment. They were "Uncle Wiggly's Automobile", a child's book about talking animals--Uncle Wiggly was a huge rabbit in a top hat, frock coat and pince-nez glasses (no doubt some subliminal capitalist hero-figure), "The Lone Ranger and Tonto" (we listened to the Lone Ranger on the radio so I knew who he was) and "Worlds in the Sky", a spookily illustrated astronomy book for adolescents by a woman named Fenton. I made my mother read all three to me, but it was the last one that really grabbed me, I made her read it over and over again while I followed the words along with her. By the time I started first grade, I already knew how to read, and had developed a pathological interest in astronomy.

You're right. Reading is the key. Without it, nothing else can happen, and all bets are off.

PS As an aside, our Ponce de Leon apartment (probably built right after the war) had solar water heating. The southern sides of the gables had large glass panels in which water was circulated through black pipes, surrounded by mirrors. It provided enough hot water for household use, even on cloudy days (as long as you didn't take Hollywood showers). Another glimpse in to the past I will record while I'm here; we had a corner grocer that still sold things on credit. He wrote up your purchases on little notebooks (both grocer and customer had one) and on payday accounts would be settled. A typical order for us would be a pound each of rice, beans, lard, coffee, sugar, a loaf of Cuban bread, and some meats and canned items. I was very proud that I was trusted with this important assignment. And the grocery was such a neat place, with neat smells of exotic Spanish spices and delicatessen meats. I used to love plunging my arms into the barrel of black beans up to the elbows, feeling the odd sensation as the hard little frijoles tickled my skin.