I lived for a time in a household with a mentally challenged adult called Rosie.

A member of the Opportunity Workshop, Rosie was, for all intents and purposes, illiterate. Given time and encouragement, she could write ROSALIE FOX. Then with great pride she would present her effort, and expect to be congratulated.

Sometimes she would create a page full of characters, some of which were letters of the alphabet we all use, some of which were meaningful to her alone. Then she would present them for me to read. Naturally, I would have to confess that I couldn't read them.

"Ain't that something'', she would muse. "I can't read either''. That Rosie couldn't read was a source of distress to her; so much so that my daughter Jessica, herself just a primary student, took it upon herself to teach Rosie.

Armed with a pile of Sesame Street picture books and a store of love and patience the two commenced to tackle the problem.

I learned a lot watching those two go at it. Rosie is at least thirty-five years my daughter's senior. They laughed and giggled all the time, and whenever Rosie correctly identified a letter or read complete words, there would be a noisy interruption for praise and mutual congratulations.

I thought about those two while I was listening to Mrs. Janet Kemp address a forum on literacy, at the Bermuda College. Mrs. Kemp is the director of The Reading Clinic, and she was explaining a graphic to the audience that she had projected on to a screen with the overhead projector.

It showed the viewers the skills involved in reading and suggested important questions parents could ask of teachers to help understand just where their children might be experiencing difficulties. Parents could use the schema to help their children onwards towards literacy.

It was specifically when Mrs. Kemp said the words' constructing meaning that Rosie came to mind. Readers have to bring something to the process. They have to internally `construct' the meaning of the text they attempt, drawing on all their previous language experience.

"What it all means'', was Rosie's habitual question to Jessica, and often to her friend and employer, Margaret Carter, and to me. Rosie lived in a language-rich environment in which she was a welcome participant in every conversation.

Often these conversations concerned the doings of the Anti-Apartheid Committee, Human rights Legislation, the affairs of Bermuda Physically Handicapped Association. She was respectfully addressed by dozens of articulate, passionate people who answered her questions in the best and most appropriate language they knew.

Rosie's understanding of the world around her grew as she came to understand that her curiosity would be acknowledged and responded to with kindness and respect. Her vocabulary grew tremendously, to the point where another friend, a most literate and articulate man, Willard Fox, would openly marvel at this.

What does it all mean? Rosie's question is profound. Applied in the broadest and deepest sense it asks questions we can not answer without referring to History, Philosophy, Theology and several branches of the Sciences.

And that, to me, is what is so exciting and so scary about literacy. Often it has been put to us in commercial terms. Learn to read and write so you can get a job. Learn to read and write so the information technology revolution won't pass you by. But it isn't said often enough that you should learn to read to find out what it all means, and who we are, and what our place is in the scheme of it all.

The last time I saw Rosie she still hadn't learned to read -- but she hadn't given up either. And she still wanted to know: "What does it all mean?'' You inspire me Miss Fox. When I read, I read for you too, and I keep your wonderful and provocative question in mind.