My parents would drive us to Florida every spring in this big

Hear now the words of Anthony Doerr, spoken with the gentle reverence of memory: “My parents would drive us to Florida every spring in this big old, rusty Suburban, and we'd collect stuff on the beach for our aquarium back in Ohio; we had this big saltwater aquarium back in Ohio. Every time we found anything, any mollusk, my mom would bring out the guidebook and quiz us on what it was, so that stuff was built in early.” In these words, we glimpse the origin of a mind that would one day weave stories as luminous as starlight, a mind nourished by wonder, by curiosity, and by the steadfast guidance of family.

The quote speaks first of the shaping power of childhood. A rusty car, long drives, and seashells plucked from the sand may seem small things, but to a young spirit they are treasures beyond price. For it is in these moments of simplicity that foundations are laid—the love of knowledge, the curiosity about the natural world, the sense that discovery is not reserved for the scholar’s library but can be found in every tidepool and grain of sand. Thus, the great novelist reminds us that what is built early lasts forever.

The wisdom of the ancients agrees: education is not only the task of schools but the sacred duty of family. Socrates once declared that the beginning of wisdom is wonder. In Doerr’s story, it is the mother, guidebook in hand, who transforms seashells and mollusks into teachers, turning the play of children into lessons for a lifetime. What to others might be idle collecting became, through her hands, a journey into knowledge. This is the second teaching: that true education does not merely inform—it awakens.

Consider the tale of Charles Darwin, who as a child wandered fields and shorelines, filling his pockets with stones, beetles, and shells. Encouraged by mentors and family, he cultivated this love of collecting into a discipline that changed the world. The theory of evolution, born of voyages and observations, was first nurtured in the boy who marveled at earthworms in his garden. Darwin, like Doerr, began with the smallest things—mollusks, shells, the patient guidance of those who encouraged curiosity. The lesson is eternal: greatness often begins in the rust of old wagons and the sand of forgotten beaches.

The heart of Doerr’s memory lies not in the aquarium, nor even in the seashells, but in the union of family. The parents who drove, the mother who taught, the siblings who listened—together they formed a living classroom, bound not by walls but by love. This is why his words feel both nostalgic and instructive: they remind us that knowledge without nurture is barren, but when bound to the warmth of care, it flourishes into a lifelong passion.

The lesson, O seeker, is clear: cherish the small beginnings, for they may be the seeds of destiny. If you are a parent, fill your children not only with rules, but with wonder. If you are a teacher, remember that the smallest quiz, the simplest guidebook, may ignite a fire that burns for decades. And if you are a seeker of wisdom yourself, look back upon the gifts that were built into you early, and honor them as the roots of who you have become.

Practical is this counsel: take time to wander, to collect, to notice the overlooked. Keep a notebook, as one would keep a guidebook, to record the small marvels of each day. Share your discoveries with others, for joy multiplies when it is taught. Above all, nurture curiosity, whether in yourself or in those you love, for it is curiosity that transforms a rusty car ride into a journey of the soul.

Thus Anthony Doerr’s words are not merely memory but prophecy: “That stuff was built in early.” It is a reminder that greatness is not born in an instant but patiently constructed, seashell by seashell, lesson by lesson, love by love. Let us honor these beginnings, so that the hearts of the young—and our own hearts, too—may continue to be filled with wonder, learning, and the beauty of discovery.