Worlds of adventure
Mom and dad in the front room
Journeys of the mind.
This is all I have left of the hundreds of books that lined the bookshelves of my parents home. I’m sad to say that because we have so many of our own and a total of seven bookshelves throughout our home, when my mom passed in April of 2013 we could only keep a few. I had to decide which books meant the most to me and spoke most clearly of my parents love for reading, their favorite authors, the genre that most accurately reflected their styles and tastes, or at least what I remembered them to be.
It’s fair to say that they were readers of a variety of books, mostly fiction with an historical anchor. They loved Clavell, and Michener, and LeCarre, and Robert Ludlum’s ‘Jason Bourne’. My mom and dad did read Lustbader’s version, but they pined for the ‘real thing’ after the death of the original author of the original trilogy. They would have hated the movies had they stumbled into a theater to watch them. They also liked Ken Follett, whom they posthumously introduced to my wife in the form of one of their books that we brought home. His Pillars of the Earth started her own love for the author and has led to us buying and reading others of his since. Mom and dad, were readers. They loved the adventures that stories and books contain, ready to sweep us off into adventures and high stakes intrigue between their covers and at the turn of every page.
Yesterday passed the seventh anniversary of my father’s passing in 2010 and the things I remember about him have mostly to do with his books and reading. I carried to work with me his Zippo lighter and wore the watch mom gave me for Christmas many years ago. But among all the stuff and things that are still scattered around the house reminding me of them, in have memories of them on my shelf that I can pick up and retrace their steps in my own as I read what they read. I can hear their voices, see their faces as they were buried in their pages and consumed in the reading of these books, now on my shelf that were once in their hearts. And as I do, both the stories and my parents come alive again.
We miss you mom and dad. But we have your memories on a shelf and in our hearts. As long as we do, you will always live in our home.