November’s books take us on a river, to the Old West, to a deserted island, to London, and more. Week 1: Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome This delightfully humorous book seems surprisingly modern, considering it was published in 1889. As the title indicates, three young men decide a two-week boat trip up the Thames River is just what they need to get rid of their aches and pains. They pilot their own boat, they camp, they…
Is there a term for a grandma who buys her LEGO-crazed grandson a set that she fully intends to keep, once built? (He will, of course, be welcome to visit it any time he likes.) I sprung the challenge on Cameron during our Thanksgiving get-together on Saturday. His response was almost poetic: Goose! If you buy it, I’ll build it! Within minutes, our Master Builder was hard at work, with his trusty sidekick, Papaw, at the ready. (Farmer Gary has…
The year 1953 was a tough one for Mom. She was a newlywed, but her dear Hap was overseas, serving in the Army during the Korean Conflict. In one of her daily letters to Dad, she proclaimed, “After you get home, I don’t ever want to see a stamp again!” Of course, anyone who knew her is chuckling right now; Mom was a true and faithful letter-writer. She stayed in touch. So imagine her heartbreak when one of her favorite…
From the fictionalized horror of Ray Bradbury to an Agatha Christie crime novel, to the unforgettable history of a Holocaust survivor, this was a month full of unsettling stories. Week 1: Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton One word: Bleak. This classic New England tale details a life in which hope is just a waste of time. Revisiting Ethan Frome turned into a match of memories, as both Gary and I read it as high-school class assignments long ago. I remembered…
Does anyone really use a dictionary anymore? I mean a real dictionary. Hard-covered and hefty. With hundreds and hundreds of tissue-paper pages. Tiny type. Here’s Mom‘s copy, now in our home: I weighed it. Thirteen pounds. Measured it, too: 11.5″ x 9.5″ x 5″. Thousands of pages … … starting with Mr. Webster: Researching Mr. Webster a bit, my favorite quote is that he was instrumental in giving American English a dignity and vitality of its own. He served in…
Upon retirement 27 months ago, I committed to read at least four books per month. That evens out to about one book per week. Sometimes I get behind and other times, ahead. As this month came to a close, it looked like I could squeeze in an extra book (or three). Sept is the French word for the number seven. Septem is the Latin word for the same. Do they still teach about the old Roman calendar in school? Anyway,…
As August’s reading comes to an end, I managed to squeeze in a fifth book. Kinda wish I hadn’t, though. Week 1: The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene If memory serves, this title provided my introduction to Graham Greene back in high school. It was summer and Mom handed me a book from her vast collection. High school was a very long time ago, so this re-read was a comfortable one. I didn’t remember a thing, other than…
Most of July and a third of August are considered the “dog days” of summer. Although none of this month’s books could be called dogs, Betrayal has an unforgettable bite, while Cranford gets those Victorians’ tongues to wagging. Week 1: Betrayal by the Investigative Team of The Boston Globe This is an easy book to put off reading. But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? After watching the movie Spotlight several times, I knew it was important to read…
A busy month, with our trip to Connecticut to clear out Mom & Dad’s house, but books managed to wave their pages as me, seeking to soothe my sore muscles and aching heart with an escape to wonderland. A side note: Farmer Gary puts me to shame when it comes to level of voracious reading. While in Connecticut, he kept a pile of newspaper circulars to read when he had a few minutes. We’d canceled Dad‘s newspaper and magazine subscriptions,…
Not long after Mom and Dad moved to Madison, Connecticut in 1995, they discovered a treasure. No, it wasn’t Hammonasset Beach State Park, just a few miles away. It wasn’t the many opportunities for fresh seafood in the charming oceanfront community. And it wasn’t even the discovery that there was a Girl Scout two doors down, who would keep them supplied with Thin Mints for years to come. It was the bookstore. And not just any bookstore. An independent bookseller….