All posts by Dona

So many books…

I feel like I’ve written this post before. I have a lot of books — books cause only mild guilt when I purchase them. When I can purchase them for a discount, for instance at Costco, all the better. Add that to being in two book groups and the long wait-time for popular books at the local library. Nearly every room in this house has a book or two (or a dozen) waiting to be read.

Besides the bookshelf filled with double-shelved books in my bedroom, most of which I want to read, I’ve got Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand sitting on my (bookshelf) headboard, face-down, open to the page I stopped reading a couple of nights ago. On my dresser is Let the Great World Spin, the book both book groups read and discussed that I got halfway through and found too boring to finish. (I don’t like books that are made up of short stories, even if they are connected by something). On Dean’s side of the headboard of the bed is The Siege of Krishnapur, another bookgroup read that I got partway through. I do plan to read all of these books.

In the living room I have more bookshelves filled with mostly read, but some unread books. On the table next to the couch are two more books. One is a bookgroup book, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, and a book I bought to read for fun, Fingersmith. I’m on page 23 of Henrietta Lacks and find it, okay but not exciting. I really want to read Fingersmith. but don’t feel right starting it with so many other books partway read.

The family room holds more bookshelves with double-shelved books as does Clare’s room. My office has work-related books I should read, especially since I’m planning on going back to work full-time in the fall.

It is not that I don’t have time to read — I have oodles of free-time, but I spend it on the Internet or watching television. Is it possible that I don’t like to read anymore? Has the Internet or aging changed my love of the written word?

I blame part of it on belonging to book groups — I don’t read non-book group books when I have a book group book to read out of guilt but don’t like the assigned books so don’t read at all.

I’d quit one or both book groups but they are pretty much the extent of my non-family related social life. Without them I’d be even more of a hermit.

This is an ongoing question, and a real problem for me — not the number of books in the house, but the number of books I want/need to read. Something needs to change and I don’t know what it will be.

Update: I read more of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks last night (about 1/3 of it) and am out of my reading slump. I’m really enjoying it now. Let’s hope it lasts!

Kidding aside: Some not so random thoughts

Note: This post is a response to posts by (in order of how I read them) Indigo Bunting, Mali, Lali, and Bridgett.

I gave birth to two children. I wanted them and I had them. I’d have three if the stars had been aligned a little better.

There was a time — throughout my twenties and into my early thirties that I thought I would not have children. My husband and I were a child-free/less couple for a decade and when I think back on that time it was fine. We were fine. We would have been fine had we not had children. However, the minute I was given the go-ahead to have children, my life changed completely. Pampers commercials made me quiver with anticipation. When we had our first child we were so smitten we tried (and were successful)  for a second before the first was a year old.

I know people with no children either by choice or not by choice. I know people with one child. I know lots of people with two or three children. I know people with many children. I know people who adopted children. I know women who had children on their own. I know same-sex parents. None of these people should be judged, especially based on the decisions they made or didn’t make regarding offspring.

Last night, after writing an emotional comment on Indigo Bunting’s blog post, I thought about why this topic makes me so emotional. I think it goes way back to an episode of All in the Family in which Mike and Gloria proclaim they’ll never have children because of overpopulation. This was the first time I’d heard of this concept and it upset me. I wanted to grow up and have children, but I didn’t want to be a cause of overpopulation.

I have felt a lot of guilt in my role as mother*. I felt guilt when I worked when my daughter was an infant. I felt guilt when I didn’t work when my son was an infant. I felt guilt when I read books for pleasure instead of taking the children to the park. I felt guilt for going back to work when my son was a toddler. I felt guilt for what I fed them and then what I didn’t feed them. (you get the idea) I didn’t, however, feel guilt for having them in the first place — overpopulation be damned.

I try really hard to be non-judgmental. I try to remember that everyone has a secret history. I rarely ask questions of anyone except the best of friends questions that might be considered personal — especially regarding children.

So the idea that people who have children are selfish upsets me — perhaps akin to what someone who didn’t have children feel when they’re called selfish. It goes both ways.

While writing this and thinking about the posts that inspired it — I kept remembering two sayings I’ve thought about concerning parenthood. One was a teeshirt I saw in a card and gift store (incidentally the one in which went into labor with my second child) that I thought was funny. It had a drawing of a woman with a shocked look on her face. Under the drawing was a quote: “Oh no! I forgot to have children!” I remember a heated discussion I had with a friend (who had two children — I might have had one at the time — or none) about the saying. She was appalled and could not figure out why I thought it was funny.

The second is a Brian Andreas print/saying that I gave my mother for Christmas one year — shortly after we had our first child. It goes something like this: “There are lives I can imagine without children, but none of them have the same laughter and noise.” I always felt bad that my Aunt Ginny had to see that whenever she visited my mom’s house — she always wanted children, but she and Uncle Jack never did.

*I’ve never used this phrase to exclude people who are not mothers. To me, it just means in my life as a mother as opposed to when I was not a mother.

Happy Birthday Saul Korewa, wherever you are

I am writing this on the last day of February, 2011. It will be posted on the 55th anniversary of the birth of a unique person. He won’t turn 55 years old today, however. And that’s the bad news.

The good news is that Saul was. He was a good person and cared deeply about his daughters. He was a teacher. He was a religious leader. He even was a TV movie actor.

In the earlier days of the World Wide Web, long before the phrase “social media” was a term and it was considered okay to get to know people solely online, we “met” via a piece of software called ICQ that had a unique “random” feature. One of us, probably Saul , pushed the random button and found my profile and requested a chat. We hit it off immediately. We talked nearly every day (mostly about raising kids) for at least a year — possibly more — until he went off the grid and moved to a remote “ranch” in Nevada.

He loved the da Vinci painting Ginevra de’ Benci. He fiercely defended his faith. He didn’t always follow rules. He was a good son and a good father.

About a year ago we reconnected on Facebook, but he’d disappear for months at a time because of loss of Internet access or a misplaced or lost cell phone. Our last conversation was about how proud he was of his girls and that the middle daughter might go into education and he wanted her to talk to me since I’d been a teacher.

Every so often I’d check out one of his two Facebook profiles (yes, he was a rebel) to see what he was up to, or if he’d checked in recently. Today, knowing his birthday was coming up (remember this is being written February 28), I checked his profile and found a message from one of his daughters saying he’d died in December in a house fire.

I used to tease him about being older than I was. Very soon that won’t be the case. I’ll bypass him. I’m sure he’s laughing about that somewhere.

Since he’s devoutly Jewish, I suppose I shouldn’t think of him at that table in Heaven with my Uncle Don, JFK and my Dad, but if he’s there, he’s sure to be telling some fun stories.

On December 20th he posted a photo of  a composite of the recent total lunar eclipse and tagged me as one of the phases. He died a week later. It’s comforting, somehow, to know he thought about me a week before he moved on.

(photos snagged from the Internet)