Saturday, October 16, 2021

It’s hard to find a great book Sow there!

It’s been a few years since I fell in love with a book. It’s definitely my own fault. I allow too much non-literary media in my life. When I went back for my education certificate, I leaned over the textbook. When I taught, we read delightful children’s novels and noticed little fiction and poetry.

There are hardly any bad reasons for reading. However, really reading love is a special treat.

I eat news at night, which does very little to help me understand all the problems that I can’t solve except help.

Then there are books for research. I spent some winter in “The New Western Garden Book” – for fun – and other things about dirt. There is much to be learned from flipping leaves and eating crackers on long winter nights.

Sometimes we read books because we think we should. We go through the reading recommended by others because we want to find common ground. These are not bad reasons and no one can take away what you have learned. Still, a great book can touch you in those quiet places that you hide from yourself.

Henry Kissinger’s “diplomacy” has been sitting next to my bed for the past five years. It was the last book when Handsome Woodsman died. When time passed, and some dull pain subsided, I wanted to share the same words he thought. Kissinger was an intelligent man, and of course nothing lost the relevance of what he wrote. However, once I passed the bookmark of the handsome Woodsman I realized that Kissinger was also dull and hardworking.

I still keep “diplomacy” in my bed, not out of nostalgia, but if I have trouble sleeping.

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Most of the time, I know, like most people, I succumb to electronic distractions that go away in my time, then move on a bit more, until I can’t sleep because of the blue-screen overload.

Recently, my friend Chrissy Delia Owens recommended the book “Where the Crowds Sing”. He posted on Facebook that he thought the book was beautiful. It was a simple statement, something resonated. Also, Chrissy is pretty.

When I saw the book in my honest mother’s garage, I snatched it.

Sigh.

After flipping the last page, I am in no hurry to read another book. I came back the next night and read the last few pages a second time.

After reading this book I thought if I could spend time with another book soon, it would be treacherous. The author combines the heartache of nature and loneliness in a way that reminds us that we are never really alone.

I used to think about the characters when I lay in bed in the morning. My mind shifted to the picture in the book, helping me relax during my workday. When it rained this week I turned off all the noise in the house so I could hear.

Before the book ended, I was careful not to rush. I waited until just before bed, to read a little so that the words would stay still. I let the words wash over me and carry through my week. Before I nodded, I would ask for pictures of the author in my head, such as Good Night Kiss.

Thanks Chrissy. The next time you say a book is beautiful, I understand exactly what you mean.

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