It's one thing to have a father who can't understand why you'd want to read a book when you could be digging dead leaves and bugs out of the rain gutters, but it occurred only recently to me that I never knew anyone else who liked books and reading throughout my entire life. School, college, grown-up-type life working at various jobs -- none of my fellow students and workers knew much about books, especially anything interesting (science fiction, fantasy, Forteana, science in general, true crime). 'Twas a lonely life . . . Well, not really. I read my books and wrote my own stories and drew my own comics, and I had no interest in sports, which wiped me off most people's radar, anyway, and vice-versa.
Once I reached the age of obtaining gainful employment, I got greedy in my book-collecting, but why not? As near as I could tell, they were only being printed for me!