Reading

I love to read. Always have. I blame my parents, in a good way. Between bedtime stories, watching both Mom and Dad reading a wide variety of books in their spare time, and receiving books for birthdays, Christmases, and just because, I learned that books were to be explored and enjoyed. A person can learn a lot from books.

It was on one website that I frequent that I learned about another cool site called Goodreads . Maybe you've heard of it. Or not. But on Goodreads, a reader can keep track of books she or he has read, is currently reading, wants to read (oops, must add the Narnia series!), learn about what others are reading, what others feel are must reads and what can be passed on. One can connect with friends on the site and get emails when books (and comments on these books) are added to friends' lists.

At the moment, I'm reading several books, a habit I got into as a kid during summer vacation. Getting home after the last day of school, I'd grab a stack of five books, read the first chapter of the first book, stick in on the bottom of the stack, read the next book's first chapter, then the next book...You get the idea. When I'd finish one book, it would go back on the bookshelf, another stuck into its place, and the reading would go on. By mid-summer, I might be on chapter one in one book, chapter ten in another, five in the third...Drove my mother crazy.

"How do you keep all the stories separate?" she'd ask. Just do, I'd tell her. She'd wander off, sighing, happy, I'm sure, that at least I was reading.

"I wouldn't worry about it," my grandmother told her when she relayed it during one of Grandma's visits. "I used to that all the time." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "I still do." If it was good enough for Grandma...

Two of the books I'm currently working on are Seasons of Real Florida, by Jeff Klinkenberg, and Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake, by Anna Quindlen. Both are interesting reads, similar in some ways, way different in others

Klinkenberg's Seasons..., as with his other books, is a collection of his columns first published in the Tampa Bay Times (formerly the St. Petersburg Times). He introduces the reader to all sorts of interesting characters and Florida locales. His writing makes the reader think that Klink has the perfect job: wander the state, meet cool people, see cool places, and then write about them. Jeff, if you ever decide to retire, please put in a good word for me at the Times!

Quindlen's Lots of Candles... is also a collection of short essays. (She wrote for the New York Times for several years; several of her non-fiction books are collections of some of these essays.) Her essays tend toward her observations on life.

In one of the essays in Lots of Candles..., she mentions being a control freak, to the point of having a local anesthetic when having a hysterectomy. The surgeon, knowing a control freak when she saw one, told Quindlen that she would not be allowed to talk while the surgery was going on. I really had to laugh while reading Quinlen's description of being a control freak, as I've been there. I, too, tend to be a bit of a control freak, as well as a bit of a slob.

An aside: When Paul was alive, he played Felix Unger to my Oscar Madison; we used to joke that if anyone ever did a remake of The Odd Couple using a married couple, we'd be perfect. While I'm not enough of a slob to be on an episode of Hoarders, it's only because I am a control freak. And maybe the two apparent opposites feed into each other: I can never keep my home as neat as my mom used to, or as neat as I'd love to, so why bother? But then the control-freak-ness kicks in and...

There have been times when I've been in my friend Kevin's cab and told him that I wanted to go somewhere, then proceeded to tell him exactly how to get there. Kev will usually give me a look and ask who I think is doing the driving. If I mention wanting to be in control, he'll tell me that I'm simply neurotic. Nothing like having someone know you too well...

Kevin reads a lot, too; over the years, I've noticed numerous books in his cab. (Cab driving does give one down time between calls.) He's recommended several books, and I've told him about several, even handing him a copy of Elie Wiesel's Night, a book he devoured in a day or two before passing it on. (It was an extra copy and I'd told him to pass it along.)

Paul was a reader, too, liking a variety of books from Tom Clancy and mysteries to short stories. But there were several times when I'd buy a book for myself, put it on the table, then not be able to find it later. "Oh, I started reading it," Paul would say. "You really need to read this: it's great!"

We'd discuss books, what we were reading, what stood out in the book, what inspired us for a variety of reasons...

It's a rainy Saturday, the last weekend in the out-going year. I intend to do some house-cleaning (it's that control-freak thing), but I also intend to get royally lost in a couple of books. Will I read about more quirky Floridians? More Quindlen musings? AWOL on the Appalachian Trail on my Kindle? Who knows...maybe all three. It'll drive Mom nuts, but at least she'll take comfort knowing I'm reading!