Books save memories

A word of advice: never ask a reader to clean out a bookcase. Every once in a while we decide that one thing or another needs to be moved. Last week it was two bookcases that were relocated.

I began with the one in the hallway. It should have been so simple. The plan was to clear the shelves, then relocate the bookcase and put everything back. The job should have taken about 15 minutes or so.

I dusted assorted pictures and knickknacks before dumping them onto an empty chair. Then I began with the books. The problem was that I would pick one up and leaf through it before reading a couple of pages. An hour or so later only a handful of books made it to the chair.

When it came time to restock the shelves I tried to organize them by author. That didn’t last long. They looked better when they were arranged by size.

In the process of rearranging the books, I found several picture albums. These had to be gone through page by page. They were mostly family photos. We looked so young in most of the pictures. Again, it was a few more hours before the shelves were as empty as the ones in the grocery stores.

Between the albums and the books a job that should have taken less than an hour stretched out into one that lasted two or three days.

Each book holds old friends and experiences. I usually read my books several times. Each time I see something new. The best thing about books, aside from the feel and smell of them, is that I can read at my own pace. There aren’t any ads assaulting me. There are more than one or two sentences to a page. Books don’t crash just as I get to the good part. There are no demands to join this or that site and no privacy agreements to agree to.

I know that technology is the future and that paper books will one day be as obsolete as a typewriter is today.

Going through all those books reminded me of when the grandchildren were little. To this day I can still recite a good part of Green Eggs and Ham.

Once when I was at my daughter Beth’s, I was reading to her children. Beth was in the kitchen. She told the kids to be careful because I rarely read the books as they had been written. I would sprinkle their names into the story and add all kinds of things to the text. They said they already knew that.

It has been more than a year since I have seen them in person and longer than that since I have read to them. They are way too big to fit on my lap and too old to listen to story books.

One day they will throw out all the paperbacks I cherish. The hardbacks will join them in the trash. Someone will sort through the albums and wonder who those people were.

Until then, I will reread the books on the shelves and attempt to label the photographs. Just don’t ask me to hurry. It takes time to visit the old friends that live between the covers of books.