Reflections on Fatima

To understand Fatima, one must begin far away, across the continent in fact, in Russia.

'What underground currents will bind together the two extremes of Europe: this little Portugal, planted on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, and that immense Russia, at the other end of Europe?

For seventy years now these underground currents have existed. It was not through the invention of reputable ideologies, but through the simple confession of three humble children, to whom the Virgin Mary appeared here and to whom she spoke. And she appeared precisely in the year and in the month (according to the Russian calendar) in which the revolution established the dictatorship of the proletariat and the atheism of the State of Russia. None of the children had heard the name of this country before, lost as they were on the heights of an arid rocky mountain region, watching their flocks, belonging to families where letters were not part of the daily bread that was eaten. But it was these children who transmitted the message heard from the lips of the Lady:

"Russia will spread her errors, but finally she will be converted." The fulfillment of this prophesy...we see today in our midst, the first Apostolic Administrator for the Latin Catholics of the Republic of Russia, with his seat in Moscow, the Archbishop Dr. Tadeusz Kondrusiewicz.'

This is an extract from the homily delivered by Bishop Manuel Trindale on October 13th at the Mass celebrated in Fatima in 1991, on the occasion of the seventy-fourth anniversary of the final apparition of the Mother of God when Fatima welcomed the first pilgrimage from Moscow. (Fatima, Russia & Pope John Paul II, Timothy Tindall-Robertson, pp 115-122, The Ravengate Press)

There are no coincidences with God. One of the first things I read upon return from pilgrimage was a story from Inside the Vatican that the same pilgrim to Fatima, 'Tadeusz Kondrusiewicz, the Catholic archbishop in Moscow for the past 16 years had celebrated his last public Mass before his departure to Minsk, capital of Belarus.' (Dr. Robert Moynihan, MOSCOW, Russia, October 28, 2007)

So for sixteen years now, Russia and many dedicated Catholics--both there and abroad--have been rebuilding the Russian Catholic Church from the ground up. That there exists a church, any Christian church for that matter, in that former atheistic state is nothing less than a miracle. And yet it is true. Joyfully, many of us can say we lived to see Communism fall in the former Soviet Union. Russia is Russia once more. But we cannot forget, that but for the intervention of Our Lady, the faith of three young children and the prayers of millions, there would have been no church in Russia to rebuild.

All the ironies in the story struck me anew--the immensity of Russia and the smallness of Portugal. The supposed mightiness of the Soviet Union and the relative political insignificance of Portugal. The terrible losses suffered by the Soviet Union not only during World War II, but also under her Communist leaders, especially Lenin and Stalin. And what about tiny Portugal? Our Lady promised her mothers to keep their sons out of the second World War and she did, because of their faith and prayers.

Many of these things were on my mind and in my heart when I traveled to Fatima. I lived for nine years ('81-'90) in Europe during the Cold War. I left Germany just after the Berlin Wall came down and I remember what a happy time it was. Communism had been 'defeated' and the full terror of 'terrorism' was not yet understood, well at least not by me, and probably not by most average Americans I suspect.

But evil is always present in this world and one tyrant vanquished only made room for others to assume prime positions. I was just too naive to realize this then.

Since my return from pilgrimage a week ago today I've been trying to figure out how to write up Fatima--as a chronological monologue, as a travelogue, as a series of reflections on my photos or some other way--but so far none of my writing seems to be going anywhere. So I guess I'll just keep plugging away, praying and hoping God shows me how to document my journey, a pivotal place, and this incredible story. It's so miraclous, no mere words can ever do it justice.

So I beg for your prayers for this endeavor and also call your attention to something our group of pilgrims noticed while we were at Fatima.

There was no American flag. Can you believe it? In the processions, there were flags from many nations -- certainly not every country, but many -- but no American flag. It made me feel so bereft. I can't explain it--why the United States wasn't represented in this symbolic way. There were certainly plenty of other American pilgrim groups there besides even our small group, which mostly consisted of Catholics from California and Hawaii. I suppose each country's delegation brings their own flag, but I don't know the protocol for such things and did not have the opportunity to check this out given our limited time and resources.

Still, it makes you wonder, 'Why did no one from our great nation bring an American flag to include in the procession?' If I had had a flag with me or been able to get my hands on one--no matter what size--I think I'd have hopped in the procession myself just to insure our representation. It really was a very sad day for us.

So I write this in hopes that you will spread the word about this travesty. And if you, or anyone you know, is traveling to Fatima next year or the next, or anytime in the future, will you please, please, please, bring, carry and display an American flag in the procession?!

I cannot tell you how sad I felt not to have our country visibly represented in that otherwise beautiful tribute to Our Lady. I also cannot help thinking it made her sad. I know she loves us too. She is our Mother, Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of the Americas. We were there. Our flag should have been there too.

God bless you and God bless America!


"God has been very good to me, for I never dwell upon anything wrong which a person has done, so as to remember it afterwards. If I do remember it, I always see some other virtue in that person." ~~Saint Teresa of Avila

Our Lady of the Rosary and "Lepanto"

by Gilbert Keith Chesterson

Started and Finished on: 8 October 2007

October is the month Catholics celebrate as the month of the rosary--that special prayer to Our Lady, Mother of God. And October 7th is the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary because on that day in 1571 a famous battle was fought at Lepanto. The people of Venice credited Our Lady of the Rosary with their success. In their own words, "Neither strength, nor arms, nor leaders, but the Rosary of Our Lady made us the victors."

Pope Pius V honored their belief by instituting an annual feast in honor of Our Lady of Victory, which Pope Gregory XIII later changed to the feast day we currently celebrate on the date of the victory itself, October 7th. The name of the feast day was also changed to Our Lady of the Rosary.

Today I finally read the epic poem by G. K. Chesterton about the famous battle of Lepanto. Although I've enjoyed Chesteron's Father Brown mysteries, Orthodoxy, The Man Who Was Thursday and The Everlasting Man, I had never gotten around to reading this very accessible poem. If you've overlooked this very short and delightful work, be sure to check it out. You'll recognize some names you've heard before.

One test of a good read for me is if the book -- or poem -- gives me leads to other good reads. And Lepanto certainly did that. Here are just a few of the books and topics I now want to read or learn more about as a result of my brief visit with this poem: 1.) study/learn more about King Philip of Spain; 2.) finish Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes; 3.) read Don Juan by Lord Byron; 4.) read The Ballad of the White Horse by G. K. Chesterton, and 5.) read Wisdom and Innocence: A Life of G. K. Chesterton by Joseph Pearce.

Below are just a sample of some of my favorite quotes by the man sometimes called The Prince of Paradox:

"What embitters the world is not excess of criticism, but an absence of self-criticism."

"Impartiality is a pompous name for indifference, which is an elegant name for ignorance."

"When learned men begin to use their reason, then I generally discover that they haven't got any."

"Reason is always a kind of brute force; those who appeal to the head rather than the heart, however pallid and polite, are necessarily men of violence. We speak of 'touching' a man's heart, but we can do nothing to his head but hit it."

"If there were no God, there would be no atheists."

"Love means loving the unlovable - or it is no virtue at all."

By the way, "Thanks to Aunty Belle" for the tip! If not for your timely reminder, I'd have not put the two events together. God bless you!

****

Vanity Fair, Part 1

by William Makepeace Thackeray

"Ah! Vanitas Vanitatum! Which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?" —Vanity Fair

If I were a little more eloquent I could have written those words myself today. I have a lovely day and no pressing business. I was all set to listen to my Librivox downloads of Vanity Fair while I ironed, did some mending, and just generally enjoyed a slow day of light work, when I discovered that I was up to Chapter 39 of the 40 chapters I had on hand. Time to get the rest from Librivox. No such luck. Their website seems to be down. And so it goes...the best laid plans of mice and men. Oops! Wrong book!

Time for Plan B. Hmmmm...looking at it again, the quote doesn't quite fit after all. Well, it's still a cool quote. So, instead of listening to more of the story--which by now I'm well into--I shall write about the novel instead. Come to think of it, it's probably very fortuitous, as Vanity Fair is a tremendous book and I was beginning to wonder how I was ever going to get any words around it. Two -- nay ten -- blog posts won't begin to do it justice. But as I must begin somewhere, the title is as good a place as anywhere.

The term "vanity fair" originates from the allegorical story, The Pilgrim's Progress, published in 1678 by John Bunyan, where there is a town fair held in a village called Vanity. And, it is believed that Bunyan's source for his fictional town's name comes from the book of Ecclesiastes and the opening statement, 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.'

Thackeray has written a satire and let's be honest, satire's are not easy to write because they lack universal appeal. You walk on a knife's edge of humor--sharp, narrow and treacherous. While satire is usually meant to be funny, its real purpose is instruction. The author wants to hold up a mirror to an individual, group, or event and show--by means of irony, derision, ridicule or simply the unfolding of circumstances--heretofore hidden or unacknowledged vices, follies, abuses or shortcomings.

In Vanity Fair, Thackeray is satirizing all of humanity, from the highest to the lowest. Whereas Dickens usually targeted the wealthy and/or those in power, our author does not share the Dickensian' illusion that the poor are without vice. He is a believer in original sin--all of mankind is born capable of evil; though underclasses may have less opportunity for vice, when occasion coincides with motive, poverty is no guarantee of virtue.

Hence the subtitle of the book, A Novel Without a Hero. Thackeray's characters for this reason are less easily typecast than many other fictional characters of the time period. There is no hero, nor heroine. Perhaps that is also why I find his characters more real, more believable than those of his literary contemporaries, who usually had clearly defined heroes and villains.

As to the main characters, however, an interesting discussion developed on the Yahoo British Classics Book Group last month when we read this book. (Yes, yours truly is behind everyone else. The rest of the group has moved on to Agnes Grey and I'm still pluggin' away at September's read.) Many of the ladies in our group saw a strong similarity between the novel's female antagonist, Becky Sharp, and Gone With the Wind's Scarlett O'Hara. Likewise, there were recognizable likenesses between Vanity Fair's female protagonist, Amelia Sedley, and Melanie Wilkes from GWtW.

Becky Sharp is by far the most interesting and memorable of our novel's characters and in that sense I concur with her being compared with the indomitable Scarlett. She is feisty, selfish, manipulative, cunning and always (at least so far) manages to get her own way. I realize this rampage of ruin which she is wreaking on everyone can't last forever, but so far, she seems unbeatable. Amelia, on the other hand, is mousy, insipid, sweet to the point of being nauseating and consequently gets used by people and circumstances. In that sense I do not agree that she is like Melanie Wilkes who was supposed to be and in fact seemed to be, a genuinely good person, meek, in the Gospel sense of the word, but certainly not stupid.

What I found most interesting in our group discussion was how all the ladies saw themselves in either Becky or Amelia. And whichever they considered themselves in their early years, they were striving to be more like her opposite as they aged, i.e., an outgoing opportunist as a girl, wanted to become more reserved as a woman and the consummate wallflower of youth, longed to blossom into a forceful woman to reckon with in her later years. I wonder if that would be true if a larger sample of women were to read and discuss this book. In any event, just because our author is male, doesn't mean he doesn't understand the female psyche; indeed, he captures our ability to wound each other perfectly as well as the deeply regrettable inability of some to ever forgive and forget.

'But those who know a really good woman are aware she is not in a hurry to forgive, and the humiliation of an enemy is triumph to her soul.' (p441) How sad! And yet the women have no monopoly on this human sinkhole of fear--the real opposite of love. The father of one of the young men in our story also severs ties with his only son for the usual reason parents of the day cut their offspring, because they fail to make the expected and presumed 'correct' matrimonial alliance. Thackeray must have known from personal experience the pain and waste associated with such loss, especially when death forever makes reconciliation an impossibility. Even then this hard-hearted old man refuses to see the error of his way, thus inuring and perpetuating vengeance onto the next generation, his own grandson. But the book isn't over yet, so I may be getting ahead of myself. As the saying goes, 'Where there is life, there is hope.'

But if Vanity Fair were only full of the dark and the bleak in the tide of human affections, it would not be ranked in the top one hundred books ever written in many lists still today. What is it that we love about it? Certainly it is full of wry humor, witty dialogue and clever escapades. It is set at the time of the Napoleonic Wars, primarily in Great Britain, but moves to the continent for the infamous Battle of Waterloo and then returns to England again. So it provides a contextual backdrop for the satirical commentary as well as giving us rich insight into a fascinating time in history, with all its associated mannerisms, customs and idiosyncrasies.

I cannot speak for the critics but one of the things I love about these old books are the words--words which have gone out-of-fashion. Those delicious words which are so expressive and can insult -- or praise -- with such finesse and panache. It seems such a pity that the average American vocabulary is dwindling every day. Some of my favorites from this book include: odious, hobbledehoy, discomfited, peccadilloes, mésallianiance, pluck, cordiality and dandle, to name but a few. What treasures we are denying ourselves when we drop these from our correspondence and conversation. Yesterday I worked on using the first and my favorite, 'odious' as often as I could. What fun and so much better than resorting to smaller and less descriptive adjectives.

Ah! I just checked and Librivox is back up, so I'm off to download more chapters. Part 2 shall have to wait! (to be continued...)

Gift from the Sea (RR)

by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Started: 26 September 2007
Finished: 2 October 2007


There is so much I'd like to say about this book, but I think it's best to just let this marvelous lady speak for herself. Some of my--and other's--favorite quotes include the following...

'After all, I don't see why I am always asking for private, individual, selfish miracles when every year there are miracles like white dogwood.'

'By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class.'

'Don't wish me happiness-I don't expect to be happy it's gotten beyond that, somehow. Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor-I will need them all.'

'For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.'

'For sleep, one needs endless depths of blackness to sink into; daylight is too shallow, it will not cover one.'

'Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after.'

'Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.'

'I believe that what woman resents is not so much giving herself in pieces as giving herself purposelessly.'

'I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable.'

'I feel we are all islands - in a common sea.'

'I have been overcome by the beauty and richness of our life together, those early mornings setting out, those evenings gleaming with rivers and lakes below us, still holding the last light.'

'I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.'

'If you surrender completely to the moments as they pass, you live more richly those moments.'

'It takes as much courage to have tried and failed as it does to have tried and succeeded.'

'Life is a gift, given in trust - like a child.'

'Men kick friendship around like a football, but it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces.'

'One can never pay in gratitude: one can only pay 'in kind' somewhere else in life.'

'One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach. One can collect only a few, and they are more beautiful if they are few.'

'The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere.'

'The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was, nor forward to what it might be, but living in the present and accepting it as it is now.'

'The punctuation of anniversaries is terrible, like the closing of doors, one after another between you and what you want to hold on to.'

'The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.'

'The wave of the future is coming and there is no fighting it.'

'To give without any reward, or any notice, has a special quality of its own.'

To be able to write like that...Wow! Give yourself a treat! Give yourself 'Gift from the Sea'!

*****

Abandonment to Divine Providence (RR)

by Jean-Pierre De Caussade

Started: 13 September 2007
Finished: 26 September 2007

There are some books which are almost too good to be able to describe.

It is the same way with people--some are too incredible for mere words, no matter what the words. When I was in the military, I could write an Airman Performance Report or an Officer Evaluation Report on those who worked at average or even above average level, but when it came time to writing annual evaluations on those people who were superstars, no words could ever do justice to such individuals. I'd struggle for days, stay up nights and feel dissatisfied with whatever I wrote in the end. Please bear that in mind here--this is just such a book.

This 33 karat diamond of a book wasn't published until a hundred and ten years after the author's death. Father Caussade never knew he wrote this book; what we read today was originally a collection of letters written when he was the spiritual director to the Visitation nuns of Nancy in France--as well as notes from talks he gave them.

Born in 1675 in the south of France, there is almost nothing known about Caussade--no picture survives, no physical description, and very few facts. But we do know he was born during an era when the Catholic faith was rich and vibrant; he grew up in the shadow of such giants as St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Francis de Sales and St. Jane de Chantal. In fact, although he was a Jesuit, his writings reflect more Carmelite and Salesian spirituality, than they do Ignatian influence.

One of the many beautiful things about this book is its simplicity. Another is its brevity. I have read both versions--translations--depicted above, Sacrament of the Present Moment, being the newer of the two. I prefer the older, but each has its place. Both titular phrases are Fr. Caussade's own words for the profound yet childlike concept he is trying to teach us. Remain in the here-and-now; that is where the incarnate Christ dwells.

'Short books often have great power.'¹ This one is a perfect example. There is one central theme and it is -- give or "abandon" yourself to God/Divine Providence -- and no harm can come to you. "Be Not Afraid," as Jesus said, and Pope John Paul II reiterated in his late twentieth century pontificate. The book is a series of meditations, meant to be consumed in small bite-sized pieces and then savored or contemplated. That is why it is perfect both as an audio book and a devotional. It constantly circles back to the gentle reminder we have but one three-fold duty--to abandon ourselves to His Will, trust Him in everything and live in the Present Moment. Such a sweetly elemental principal! We humans want to complicate everything; He wants to simplify things. We want to hold on to our problems; He wants to relieve us of them.

Recently, I have been filling my poor head with facts from confusing technical reading which doesn't clarify or solve anything. Fortunately, at the same time, I have also been listening to my Ignatian Press tapes, while driving in the car, of Mark Taheny as he reads Abandonment. Talk about peace and transport--peace in transport. I look forward to my time alone absorbing these Christ-like words which reassure me that all I need to do is surrender to Him and love. Do my Christian duty always and forget about what others think about me. If I am misunderstood, so much the better--so was He. And when I slip up and fall into sin--which I will do (as we all do)--I throw myself on His Loving Mercy.

Let go of the past. Forget about the future. Be in the present. He is taking care of everything else. All things work together for our good if we let Him work in our lives. What does not make sense now, does not matter. If He wills it, it is--that is enough.

As with most spiritual books different parts are helpful with each read. On this particular listening I was struck by the sixth and seventh sections of Chapter Six:

(6) An abandoned soul is not afraid of its enemies, but finds them useful allies.

'I am more afraid of what I and my friends do than anything done by my enemies. There is nothing more prudent than to offer no resistance to one's enemies and face them with simple abandonment. This is to run before the wind and stay at peace. Simplicity is always victorious when faced with worldly wisdom and easily avoids all its tricks without understanding them or even being conscious of them. God makes the soul take such suitable measures that they completely confound those who seek to trap it. It benefits by all their efforts, and what is meant to degrade it only increases its virtue.'

(7) An abandoned soul never need try to justify itself by word or deed. God does that.

'The huge, unyielding rock that shelters the soul from all storms is the divine will, which is always there, though hidden beneath the veil of trials and the most commonplace actions. Deep within those shadows is the hand of God to support and carry us to complete self-abandonment. And when the soul has arrived at this sublime state it need fear nothing which is said against it, for there is no longer anything for it to do in self-defense.'

These are not the complete sections, but I have quoted enough to convey the gist of each. The reminder to me was that the reading I had been doing--at someone else's request--was looking for a worldly solution to problems. Listening to Fr. Caussade I remembered that at core, all problems are essentially spiritual because we are spirit. One of my favorite sayings is, "We are spiritual beings having a human experience." Yes, I am a sinner; we all are. We sin every day by our thoughts, words and actions, but God forgives us for all our sins, so long as we truly repent. The only sin He can't forgive is the one for which we are not truly sorry.

I am eternally grateful for this wonderful little book--which I have already read many times--and to which I hope to return many more times. God bless you Father Caussade!

*****

1 John Beevers, translated by with an Introduction by, Abandonment to Divine Providence, copyright 1975, Image Books, Doubleday.

The Glass Castle

by Jeannette Walls

Started: 17 September 2007
Finished: 23 September 2007

"Thanks a lot Mom and Dad for the happy childhood! You've ruined any chances I ever had of becoming a famous author!"

So reads a favorite T-shirt which my children and I love.

Jeannette Walls joins the ranks of Dickens and many other beloved authors who owe their first foot in the door of the world of Literature to regaling their abysmal childhood.

What is it about the unhappy child, the child-survivor, the child-made-good against-all-odds that inspires us so?

The Glass Castle is the story of the Walls family: Rex and Rose Mary, and their four children, Lori, Jeannette, Brian and Maureen. Rex and Rose Mary were married in 1956, which happens to be the same year my parents were married; the make-up and order of children in their family also mirrors the order of my own birth family: girl, girl, boy, girl--even to the spacing of the years.

But there the similarities end. My father was an excellent provider, loving husband, good father, devout Catholic and always hard-working and sober. My mother was a devoted wife, dedicated mother, faithful Catholic and a home-maker extraordinaire, even if her heart wasn't in it so much for the Martha Stuart aspect of it as to make sure she kept a clean home, provided us with nutritious meals and clean clothes. My parents considered our education a priority and ensured we attended the best private or public schools they could afford--up to and including four years of college.

Contrast this with the Walls' family and you have a difference so marked as to make me get down on my knees and thank God for my parents. And yet, Jeannette Walls today is a famous author and winner of numerous awards for this tale of courage in the face of overwhelming adversities. Would I trade places with her? Not for a second!

Beginning with her earliest memory of being severely burned when she caught herself on fire while cooking her own hot dog at age three, Jeannette relates her family's unique saga which is travelogue, adventure and a series of believe-it-or-not vignettes. Many times throughout my reading of The Glass Castle I found myself wishing parts of the narrative were not true, as one small happiness or gain after another was crushed, mutilated and/or eliminated. The family sank further and further into poverty and degradation as the children grew up and became aware of all the world around them had to offer...and which was denied to them.

I suppose my reaction says more about me than the book. Rose Mary Walls would have blithely dismissed my compassion and concern with a wave of her hand, "That which does not kill us, makes us stronger," and gone back to her painting. That was the sort of mother she was--a self-professed "excitement-addict".

Rex Walls was an alcoholic, four pack a day smoker, who led--or drove--himself and his family from one place (home?) to another all through Jeannette's early childhood until they were finally forced to return to his hometown of Welch, West Virginia. But from another perspective, he was also a misunderstood genius who, when he was sober, taught his children physics, geology, philosophy (of sorts) and a love of life.

The four Walls children grew up fast--as children of such parents must if they are to survive. They learned to take charge of their own fates and get what they needed. Perhaps it is the secret of their later successes.

The Glass Castle is ironic in that a castle is supposed to provide protection, whereas -- as anyone knows -- glass is both see through and easily shattered, a metaphor for the family life Rex and Rose Mary built for their four children, who joined together to work hard and help each other escape their own parents.

My own beloved parents just celebrated their fifty-first wedding anniversary this month. Although our family is far from perfect, it is rich in humor, wisdom, stories and trust. Thank you Mom and Dad for building our family on the solid foundations of Faith, Hope and Love!

This book was loaned to me by a friend and I am grateful, but it's worth mentioning this is a book you wouldn't regret buying. Had it been my copy, I'm sure it would be heavily highlighted by now. As it is, I have it annotated with numerous post-it© tabs which I'll go back and glance at one more time before I remove them and return the book (sniff) reluctantly to its owner. It was a DEAR book. (See previous Blog entry.) It was also a dear book from a dear person! Thank you!

****1/2

What is D.E.A.R.?

In my daughter's first school they had a concept called, Drop Everything And Read, or D.E.A.R. At various times during the week there were scheduled and even unscheduled, spontaneous DEAR times. In the classroom this meant, 'close your textbooks, pull out your library, or whatever book you were reading for the Accelerated Reader (AR) Program, and begin reading'. No homework or other schoolwork was allowed during DEAR time. Strangely enough -- for my children (and me) -- many students positively hated DEAR time.

But the idea caught and tickled my fancy. In actuality, I had been practicing 'DEAR' all my life, but just hadn't had a name for it. Most of the happiest times of my life were DEAR times--pun intended!

In fact when I went to school, I'd frequently gotten in trouble for doing something very similar to what schools today are trying to encourage students to do...read!! The irony of it was not wasted on me.

When family or friends offer me a book, I usually try to practice DEAR. (In fact, several of the books on my To Be Read list are recommendations from Loved Ones.)* I don't recommend, buy or share books offhandedly; I do it with love, much thought, care and attention. So I really hope those I share my selections with will read what I give them.

Therefore, when someone gives or recommends a book to me, Booklady, how can I do any less?

So when a friend asked if I wanted to borrow her copy of The Glass Castle and I said, "Yes," I knew DEAR was required. However, with my parents visiting us from out-of-town for the first time in 6 years, it wasn't possible to drop everything--but I could certainly drop all the other books I was currently reading--and I did.

Next entry...The Glass Castle!

*While my father was visiting he reminded me of another book he wants me to read, The Resurrection of the Shroud.