Thursday, 14 August 2014

Books, Life, and the Unexpected

I had lunch yesterday with my buddy ever since our earliest days together at 32 Admiral Rd, Martha Chase Jackson Pagel. We had a great time jawing about our kids, my grandkids, and Martha’s expected grandchild (due in October to her older daughter, the lovely Christina.) Speaking of books we are currently reading, Martha waxed eloquent on the virtues of e-books. I doubt that I will ever be able to make that leap. I did buy an e-book device a few years ago but returned it within a few days. I realized that though the selection of books available for purchase through this medium is vast, that it was not satisfying to me. I don’t tend to read the latest titles that come out. Usually I will come across an author or a book in a serendipitous manner, from an article in the paper, or more usually, from browsing the offerings at a garage sale or in the bins out in front of local book emporiums.

For years I have purchased books inexpensively through the on-line used book site abe.com. Often the price is just $1 US plus postage; many of the contributing stores are in the USA so I have been able to further reduce my over-all cost by routing them to the home of my long-suffering brother-in-law, Terry Hall, in Portage, Michigan. He stacks them in a corner until our next visit, when I open my packages with all the glee and happiness of a Christmas morning.

It’s not just the text that attracts and satisfies me. I like the feel and the heft of the book, its overall shape and even its smell – excluding, of course, those that have spent too many years in someone’s garage or basement. Many, especially books related to history or biography, have photographs and maps to which one can easily refer throughout one’s reading to put the people or the places into sharper focus.

Last Friday on our lengthy and circuitous drive to Ottawa we passed through the lovely town of Tweed, north and slightly east of Belleville. On its main street the yard and sidewalks of an older house, now a designated heritage centre, was covered with shelves and boxes of used books. How could we fail to stop and peruse such bounty? We came away with roughly ten selections – several classic “therapy” books that I pick up and keep to give to appropriate clients, and, a set of five Time-Life books published in the 1970s in a series called The Old West. Each is filled not just with information about the western territories before and during the age of expansion by European settlers, but just as importantly, with maps, photographs, paintings, and the stories of explorers, pioneers, and the aboriginal peoples with whom they alternately collaborated, fought, and subdued. These materials flesh out with great immediacy the books Mark and I have read in the last year or so about the settling of the American west and more recently about Louis Riel and his “general,” Gabriel Dumont.

I was thinking this morning about a conversation I had with my granddaughter Emily as we drove her down to her dad’s place in Toronto on Monday night. Emily will be 14 next month. She is having many of the kinds of exciting, perplexing, and painfully difficult experiences of adolescence that we have all been through, albeit within the strictures and possibilities of our own particular era. Apropos of nothing particular I said to her that when you live as long as I have you have actually experienced many different lives. She wanted to know what I meant by that so I tried to explain that it seemed to me that I have many times lived in different places or circumstances each of which seemed to me just to be my life, without reflecting that the life that I was living could at some point be materially changed or even finished. There was my life as a kid with my family; my year and a half as a nursing student; my four years as a religious sister; my undergraduate and teaching experiences; working for three years in the recreation department at Sick Children’s Hospital; my 17 years as a part of the Therafields community; my 14 years with her grandfather, Maurice, as his girl friend and then wife, and the mother of our children; my years as a graduate student, teaching at Ryerson and at York U, and consultant work; establishing my psychotherapy practice and becoming registered as a psychologist; being with Mark these past 22 years; having grandchildren and growing up along with them, and etc.

I don’t think I went into as much detail as I’ve just outlined above, but I was trying to say something to her about the fact that life (and everything else) changes all of the time and often in ways that you really can’t foresee or imagine. Looking back we can trace the elements of our passage through time and its connecting threads, but rarely can we see ahead with anything like that kind of clarity. To me it seems of a piece with the collecting of books: you just don’t know what interesting pieces or people you might run across or in what unexpected directions they might take you.


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