Books

Ever since I was a baby, I have loved books and reading. My mom would frequently tell the story of how, three days after my second birthday we moved to our current house. To keep me occupied and safe, all she did was put my books in my new room and leave me there! Kept me content for a LONG time. My room is somewhat small, and as (especially since I discovered my university's bookstore with it's bargain book section and how to buy used books on amazon) I have been purchasing or receiving books for a long time, I came to the conclusion today that it was, once again, time to box up books and take them down to the basement. My two bookcases (one four shelf, the other three) had long since become COMPLETELY filled (double-lined, with more books piled ontop of the ones standing upright), which then led to two crates being turned into a makeshift bookshelf besides the bookcase. Then that filled, and I started two piles on top of the crates. And a large pile right in front of the taller bookshelf. Plus, four piles reaching almost to the ceiling on that bookshelf. I think it was friday night that one of the piles on the crates decided to fall (crates not being as stable). That was my cue to do some major rearranging and boxing-up. It was hard though...to me, books are like old friends, you can never have too many of them. With each one, as I boxed them I had to resist the temptation to start reading! Even so, I couldn't help it with some. As a result, the task took a lot longer than it probably had to. I still have the two bookcases doubled lined, with a FEW piled on top of them, but a LOT went downstairs. When we renovate this spring and summer, we are going to put in a library room for our (literally) thousands of books.

In reading these days, I seem to alternate between fiction and non-fiction. I finished a book called 'Saving Max' on friday and have been reading a memoir by Sue Martin called 'No way home' about her experience in the Barnardo Children's Homes in England during the 1940's and 50's. I first learned about the Barnardo homes back when I was about twelve years old through one of my all-time favourite Dear Canada books by one of my favourite children's authors, Jean Little. My copy of 'Orphan at my door' still remains a book I turn to occasionally when I am feeling very out-of-sorts. In fact, I kept all of my Dear Canada books still in a place of honour on my bookcases, although I did pack up the Dear America and Royal Diary books. It is VERY strange to see the top of the one bookcase...

Good books are like old friends. You can never have too many, and you can always start right back where you ended.