Archive for the ‘Books’ Category


I was searching through my bookshelves today for a particular book on writing.  I know it is there somewhere but I simply cannot find it.  I have 3 very tall, very wide, pine bookshelves that I love.  Now, some people have bookshelves that display books, artwork, family photos  and mementos all artfully arranged with plenty of white space around them.  They could be in a showroom.  Not mine.  They are jam-packed with books.  Some stand neatly side by side, their brightly colored dust covers intact.  Some stacked in piles, one on top of the other, some jammed in on top of others.  There are stacks of books in front of other stacks of books.  Every available space is taken up with books.  Even the tops of the bookshelves have books on them.  There’s not one photo, or piece of artwork, or memento from any of my travels anywhere on those shelves.

As I looked at the haphazard way I have arranged my books, several thoughts come to mind.  First I think I should organize them.  Take them all off the shelves, arrange them by author, or by genre, or by genre and then by author.  No, that’s too systematic for me.  I’m more of a random kind of person. Then I think I should probably go through them and edit my holdings.  Give away paperbacks I’ve read. Maybe take them to the lake for reading on rainy days.  Will I ever really re-read that Catherine Coulter book?  How about that book on flower arranging? Weeell, I might.  We have rainy days here too and I might need a diversion.  I could have a party, and need to arrange flowers in an artful way on the table.  I think I might be a book hoarder.  You see, books have always been my friends.  When I was a shy, plump girl, un-athletic and awkward, books were my shelter.  Whenever I opened the covers of a book, I was in another place, another time.  I was someone else.  As I got older and my yen for travel was sometimes overwhelming I could read about where I wanted to be, and for a bit I would be riding the Orient Express or sitting at a cafe in Paris.  I could have dinner with Eleanor Roosevelt and breakfast with the King of Siam.  I can fight the Battle of Gettysburg or dance in the halls of Versailles. When I need solace, I can pull Mornings with Thomas Merton, or even Chicken Soup for the Soul.  Whatever I need, my friends are there.

Giving away a book would be like giving away one of my friends.  And I keep making new friends. So in order to be able to find my friends easier, I guess I need to get more bookshelves.

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