When the flotsam and jetsam of my brain don’t warrant a whole post of their own.
Book Festival
Our local Public Broadcasting station and an area university celebrated literacy and the love of books this past weekend by hosting a Book Festival. It did my heart good to see the large number of people at the event. Yes, there were a lot of gray heads in the crowd, but also a decent number of young people, making me a bit more optimistic about the future.
Crazy for Chocolate
I don’t know where I first heard about Dubai Chocolate, but the combination of rich chocolate, creamy pistachio, and a crisp pastry layer sounded delightful… until I saw the price: about $15 for a 150g bar. As I was looking at the store display and wondering who was crazy enough to pay that much for chocolate, a young lady walked by, grabbed a bar, and said, “Wow, I have never seen these this cheap!” So, of course, I had to buy one too. And, yes, it was yummy, but no, I’m not crazy enough to buy another one.
Delivery Options
An item my husband needed was only available online from a big box home improvement store. He had three options of how to have the item delivered: 1) It would be delivered to the store for pick-up, shipping was free but it would arrive in several days; 2) For an $80 shipping fee, the item would be delivered either the next day or a day of his choosing; 3) The item would be delivered to our door the next day for no shipping cost. His choice was obvious… I wonder if anyone chose option 2?
The 80/20 Wardrobe
We are in the middle of a house project that required me to empty my closet. I am lucky to have a large closet, so normally it is fairly tidy, but now my clothes and shoes are stowed all over the house, stuffed in other closets and piled on various flat surfaces. In addition to feeling twitchy about the disarray, I am confronted with the fact that I have far too many clothes. Some of them are now in my “to be donated” pile, but I realize that I need to be much more realistic about what I’m likely to wear going forward. Like many, I probably only wear about 20% of my wardrobe and, especially in retirement, comfortable and casual wins. I have no illusions that I can offload 80% of my clothes, but I’ll be busy this weekend seeing how close I can get.
Several weeks ago, my husband and I spent a few days in Los Angeles. The main reason for our visit was to see family but we also wanted to explore the downtown area.
When I research an unfamiliar destination for things we might want to do, I often turn to the website Atlas Obscura. Unlike other tourism resources, Atlas Obscura highlights lesser known, but fascinating places of interests. They call themselves “The Definitive Guide to the World’s Hidden Wonders,” and I have found their recommendations invaluable.
That’s where I learned about The Last Bookstore.
Housed in a hundred-year-old bank building, The Last Bookstore is known for its huge selection of used books and a well-curated collection of first editions, rare, and vintage books (complete with the deep, musty smell that bibliophiles cherish). Customers can also browse through new fiction and non-fiction books, as well as an extensive selection of vinyl records.
Almost as impressive as the books themselves, are the way they are displayed and the visual delights sprinkled throughout the two-story building.
The marble pillars of the former bank’s atrium support a beautifully carved and painted ceiling.
A bank vault serves as one of several themed book nooks.
The stairs leading up to the second floor.
Harry Potter meets Fantasia.
The door into a genre-themed room; this one focuses on True Crime.
The Book Tunnel.
One of several Book Loops found among the shelves.
In a time when so many independent bookstores have disappeared – and even the huge chains that spelled doom for the indies are closing – The Last Bookstore has managed to hold its own. Even at an impressive 22,000 sq. feet, it’s not as large as Amazon, but it has a lot more heart.
If you love books, check out the What’s on Your Bookshelf? linkup, hosted by Donna, Debbie, Jo, and Sue.
And, if you love doors (and tunnels and mysterious loops), visit Dan’s Thursday Doors challenge to see more.
We all know that each of us comes with an expiration date. If we are lucky, and we remain in decent health, that date is well into the future. Others aren’t so fortunate. Since none of us are privy to the exact day we will take our last breath, hopefully we all live our best life until then.
In her debut novel, The Measure, Nikki Erlick asks: what if we could know how long we had to live? What would happen if a small box containing that information was mysteriously delivered to every person on Earth? Those whose boxes contained a short string learned that they had just a few days, months, or years left. Others found longer strings and, therefore, had lengthier timelines. The novel’s premise is fascinating, and Erlick does a great job exploring how this knowledge could impact individuals, relationships, and whole societies, including how different governments might react.
When my book club met last week to discuss The Measure, our hostess greeted us with an arrangement of small, unmarked boxes. We were told to pick one but not to open it until instructed. After a lively and stimulating discussion about the book (it received a solid 4 out of 5 stars from most of us), things got even more interesting. We went around the room and answered the question: Would you choose to open your box and why or why not?
Some of us, including me, opted to leave our boxes closed. A few said they might have opened it when they were young but not now (most of us are 60+). I chose to leave my box closed because I felt that knowing exactly when I will die could negatively impact my mental well-being. If I found out that I only had until next October, for instance, I’m afraid that I’d spend my last few months worrying rather than enjoying the time I had left.
Others said that they’d absolutely open their box. A few cited current health issues or having children and/or grandchildren as reasons for their decision. Some knew that their curiosity would get the better of them, although they’d probably have to have several stiff drinks before opening their box. Interestingly, even though we all knew these particular strings had no magical powers, as the boxes were opened, there was relief if the string was long, disappointment if it was short.
Image curtesy of Pixaby
So, I’m curious. What would you do? Would you choose to know when – although not how – you will die?
If you’d open the box, would having a short or a long string change anything about how you’d choose to spend the rest of your life? Would you take more risks if you had a long string? Would you be more cautious if it was short?
If you would choose to keep your box closed, why? Would you have made a different decision at another time in your life?
Full disclosure: At the end of the evening, before I drove home, I opened my box out of curiosity. My string was long… whew.
Linking up to What’s On Your Bookshelf? hosted every month by Donna, Debbie, Jo, and Sue.
This story was inspired by a writing challenge hosted by D. Wallace Peach, who blogs at Myths of the Mirror. Her challenge: write a poem or story about a TBR (To Be Read) pile – those books many of us have accumulated but haven’t read yet.
I am also submitting my story to the What’s on Your Bookshelf? blog link-up hosted by Donna, Deb, Jo, and Sue. Hopefully fictional book collections qualify 😊.
To Be Read
It had taken nearly eight months, but Jane finally made it through the TBR pile that had been stacked by her bedside. As she picked up the remaining book from the floor, she could see the ring of dust her pile had created on the carpet like the chalk body outline in a crime novel. Her daughter would be pleased that she could finally vacuum the floor properly, but Jane couldn’t help feeling the loss of her friends.
She opened her book and started to read.
At first, when Anne invited her mother to come live with her, she had resisted. Jane valued her independence and knew that their individual daily habits could cause friction. But when Jane’s health deteriorated to a point that even she realized that she could no longer live alone, she consented. Within a few weeks, Jane’s home had been emptied and put on the market. Anne told her mother she could keep anything she wanted, but Jane knew her daughter’s house was small, and space was already at a premium. A few items of clothing, her favorite teacup, and her pile of books was all she brought with her.
A few weeks after Jane moved in, Anne realized the large stack of books by the side of her mother’s bed would be a permanent fixture. Clean, orderly spaces calmed Anne and gave her a sense of control. Books should be on shelves and floors kept clear of clutter. Knowing that her mother would bristle at her beloved books being referred to as clutter, Anne tried to appeal to her practical side.
“Would you like me to find space on my bookshelves for all of your books? That way, you can see each one easier.”
“No, thank you, dear. I love to see all my books out in the open, patiently waiting their turn. They give me something to look forward to.”
“But, what about your safety? Books on the floor could be a hazard. You could trip on the pile and break your neck.”
“What a novel way to die,” Jane replied.
“Very funny Mom, but I do worry about you.”
After several similar conversations, Jane finally agreed to read her way through the stack of books and not add any more. Anne assured her, after the pile was gone, she could check out all the books she wanted from the library or download them to her Kindle. Knowing that this was probably the best compromise she could hope for, Anne willed herself to stay silent despite her continued dismay at the pile. She vacuumed around it as well as she could and – when her mother wasn’t looking – she tried to neaten the stacks.
Over the next several months, Anne was happy to see that her mother was keeping her word. Slowly the TBR pile shrank in size and the floor around her bed started to clear. Anne was confident that, once the pile was gone, her mother would see the wisdom of keeping the area clear.
Before going to bed, Anne opened her mother’s bedroom door to say goodnight. She wasn’t surprised to see that Jane had fallen to sleep reading. She was still wearing her glasses and the bedside lamp was on, casting a ring of light around her. The book she was reading had tumbled out of her grasp onto the comforter. She looked so peaceful. Anne marveled at her mother’s joy of reading and was happy that, despite her poor health, she was still able to do what she loved.
As Anne crossed the room to her mother’s bed, she smiled when she noticed that there were no more books on the TBR pile. She made a quick mental note to make a trip to the library as promised. Anne reached for her mother’s glasses and was startled when her hands brushed Jane’s cold face. She quickly tried to find her pulse but felt none. Her mother was dead.
Anticipating this time would eventually come, Anne knew what she had to do. Holding firmly against her grief, she picked up her phone to call 911.
Anne sat down on her mother’s bed to wait for the paramedics and allowed herself to feel the full weight of her loss. Through her tears, she looked around the room and hoped that her mother had been happy living with her. Curious to see what her mother had been reading, she picked up the book from the bed.
She was surprised to see that it was the book by Mitch Albom she had given her mother when her dad died. Anne had hoped the messages found in The Five People You Meet in Heaven would provide her mother some peace after losing her husband.
“Oh Mom, you knew, didn’t you?” Anne cried. “You knew it was at the bottom of your stack, and you saved it for last.”
Anne saw a pink post-it note peeking out of the book and opened it to the marked page. A paragraph had been highlighted and her mother had drawn little hearts and stars around it.
“Lost love is still love, Eddie. It just takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t hold their hand… You can’t tousle their hair… But when those senses weaken another one comes to life… Memory… Memory becomes your partner. You hold it… you dance with it… Life has to end, Eddie… Love doesn’t.”
When Anne heard the knock on the door, she closed the book, kissed her mother’s forehead, and tousled her hair one last time. Before going to the front door, she walked into her bedroom and placed the book on the floor by her bed, to be read later.
I’ve always been a big fan of libraries and, since my retirement, my library card has gotten quite a workout. So, I was thrilled to learn that this week, April 8 – 14, is the 60th annual celebration of National Library Week. Sponsored by the American Library Association, National Library Week was created to recognize the contributions of our nation’s libraries and librarians and promote library use and support.
The theme for this year’s National Library Week is “Libraries Lead”
Although most libraries will have their own locally-tailored events, the national celebration has identified four areas of focus for the week:
On Monday, the list of 2017’s Top Ten Most Challenged Books (compiled by the Office for Intellectual Freedom), was released. Of course, these ten books represent just a few of the many, many documented book challenges. If you click on over, you will probably be shocked at the books listed. You may also be surprised and saddened by the reasons given for their attempted – and sometimes successful – censorship.
Today is National Library Workers Day, a day to recognize the valuable contributions made by all library workers.
Wednesday is National Bookmobile Day. This day recognizes the contributions of our nation’s bookmobiles and the dedicated professionals who make quality bookmobile outreach possible in their communities.
Thursday is Take Action for Libraries Day which is a national library advocacy effort observed for the first time in 2017 in response to proposed cuts to federal funds for libraries.
I love my neighborhood library
I’m thrilled that today is National Library Workers Day. I don’t know about your library, but mine is staffed by the nicest people. They certainly deserve a hug or, maybe better, a big tin of cookies or some other treat to tell them how much they are appreciated.
Today, this week, always, I am grateful for our libraries. I don’t think there has ever been a time when the important work they do has been as threatened. They deserve our heartfelt appreciation and, even more, our active support.
I spent a lot of time in my neighborhood library as I was growing up. I remember going with my mother at least once a week to check out books; usually borrowing two or three at a time. When I got older, I’d meet my friends there and we’d often do our homework sitting at the wooden desks they had scattered around. It was always kind of a magical place: not only did they have what seemed to be a never-ending supply of FREE books, but the building felt safe and familiar and the librarians were always a helpful source of information.
For some reason, I stopped going to public libraries in my young adulthood. I never stopped reading, but my books mostly came from bookstores, yard sales, or were passed on to me by friends. Later, of course, I also started purchasing books from online sources.
After my husband retired two years before I did, he became a library devotee. Each time he visited our local branch, he’d came home with four or five books. Then about a week later, he’d return to drop off what he had read and get a new supply.
When I retired one of the first acts of my new-found freedom was to get my very own library card. That day I learned that a lot had changed during the many years of my absence (not that I was surprised, it had been a long time). The only downside is that I had to come up with YET ANOTHER username and password because so much can be done online now. I can research books, order them, and renew them all on my computer. How great is that?
I am now happily rediscovering the magic of the public library. We have a beautiful, brand new, main library downtown, but there is something so special about the local neighborhood branches. Familiar faces can usually be found staffing the front desk and they are always pleased to recommend a title or two based on our individual tastes.
Some people have questioned the need for public libraries in our modern world. Just about everything can be found online, they argue. Maintaining brick and mortar buildings housing books made from paper is an expensive anachronism. I wish those people would visit my local library sometime. I think they’d be amazed at what they’d see and would understand the need for this great resource.
Our latest finds, including a book by my newest favorite author, Barbara Kingsolver.
Budget shortfalls often hit our public libraries hard. Hours are curtailed, staffing is reduced, and services are cut. Even though the public often gives their libraries higher ratings for effectiveness than other local services such as parks and police, they are mostly unaware of financial difficulties facing them.
I am so grateful for those who ensure funding through taxes, local support, private philanthropy, and library “friends” efforts, so that our public libraries can be kept open and operating. They understand the value and the magic that books hold for all of us.
Retirementally Challenged 