My eyes close as I finish reading
and I muse on his observation that
"it is enough to realize that every common object in this small sunny room
will outlive me - the mirror, radio, bookstand and rocker"
And my husband's calf skin briefcase....
Arthur 's essay is entitled
'Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Briefcase"
and his insight and wonderful expressiveness leave me wondering at
At one time I had all of Chris Arthur's "Irish" books, - the Nocturne, the Willow, the Haiku
and the Elegy, but gradually, over the years. I have dispersed them
amongst our children in the hope that they will be blessed by his imagination
and the creative path it follows.
Now, of course, as my shelf life has been extended into the 10th decade,
I want them all back, to read again.!!!!
This copy of "The Shoreline of Knowledge" which I am now reading
came into my possession through "Thrift Books"
A great place to explore, and if you're lucky, to find such treasures
(as this book is) and so many other children and adult books
long out of print and difficult to obtain through modern sellers.
Of course, the fact that I am replacing these books that I once gave away
is doing nothing for my determination to clear the shelves.
Instead I am buying books like "The Digital Undertaker" and
"Lasting Words" - books that are more in keeping with my present
spot in life. I am reading C.S. Lewis and Thomas Merton instead of Joanna Trollope
What I need is a good rollicking book by Erma Bombeck or Alexanxder
McCall Smith, - something along the lines of "Candles and Cake".
Before I go along the hallway to the Loom Room and my weaving
I get out my husband's calf skin briefcase and think of all the papers
it has held in his long life of devoted community service -- the establishment of
Okanagan College, Agricultural and Sheep Breeder's papers, things pertaining to his
work with Air Cadets and Education and I think what a fine, generous man he was
and how this calfskin briefcase is such a worthy symbol of his leadership and integrity.
And I think about how lucky I was that Easter Sunday to have gone walking with a friend
by the North Saskachewan River, slowing down so that I could have the pleasure of