As most of my friends know I love to read. I really don't have a certain type of favorite, I really just read anything. I pass books along when I'm done with them and I sometimes get the comment "You liked this? Really?". Well yes, as a matter of fact I did. Reading a book is kind of like spending the weekend with people that you don't know. A monitoring visit. A 300 page America's Funniest (or dumbest) Video segment. How the other half lives.
One of my favorite themes in a book is love. I know that you are picturing the covers with the shirtless, heavily muscled Fabio types holding a woman that looks like she hasn't eaten in a month, but really not this kind of love story. Ok I will read those too, but this is not what I'm talking about. What I'm thinking of is everyday love. Friends and family. Dogs and cats. Taylor and her cellphone. Just the everyday interaction with others. This is love.
I can't remember the lines exactly because it was a couple of books back and is currently being enjoyed by someone else that loves books, but the definition of learning to love was something like this. To know that loves comes in many colors. It may not be the bright red of passion or the cold black of unrequited obsession, but anywhere in between. Any shade or color that you can imagine. It really doesn't have to have a name or number, you just need to know that it's there. It's everywhere.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Discovering history
Today we celebrate the "discovery" of America by Christoper Columbus. I'm pretty sure the inhabitants that lived here thought that they had already been discovered, but he made it official. If the economy gets much worse I may choose a Georgia county to "discover" myself, but that's another subject. But the historical implications of Columbus' discoveries cannot be denied. Many hundreds of years later we call it simply home.
It's hard to imagine how rough and untamed this place was. No conveince stores, Walmarts or football stadiums. Food was not previously killed for you, but there was plenty. Jobs were scarce, but there was plenty of free parking. Good and bad. The locals hated us, but we were bigger than them. We took their lunch money. Comparing yesterday to today obviousily does not work. Apples and oranges. But try as we may to think that the modern us is our identity, it just doesn't add up.
My father lived during the depression. I know what the depression is because I studied about it in school. I also read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Vern and while they seem totally different, they are both equally hard to imagine. These are both chapters in my personal book of history. They both shaped who I am today. I am a product of my history.
I can buy a large and expensive home if I have the money, but I grew up in a two bedroom one bath home. I love the big home, but I loved the little one I grew up in too. It's where I came from and part of my history. I don't hide from small homes out of embarrassment.
The famous saying by George Santayana "Those who cannot remember the past are condemmed to repeat it" brings to mind ill planned wars, slavery and government atrocities. But these are just the big, popular "pasts". The true pasts are your own. Your personal history. Your first grade teacher. The dog that ran out from under your buddies porch and bit you. The first love that smashed your heart and the true love that you are still with. The good and the bad. Leave out a chapter and the book changes.
Remember that we are a work in progress. Don't try to mask where you came from and the mistakes you've made, learn from them and keep going. What you hated, others loved. What you loved, others hated. The gun makes a different sound when it is fired in your direction. Who knows, if the book is good enough, they make a movie out of it!
It's hard to imagine how rough and untamed this place was. No conveince stores, Walmarts or football stadiums. Food was not previously killed for you, but there was plenty. Jobs were scarce, but there was plenty of free parking. Good and bad. The locals hated us, but we were bigger than them. We took their lunch money. Comparing yesterday to today obviousily does not work. Apples and oranges. But try as we may to think that the modern us is our identity, it just doesn't add up.
My father lived during the depression. I know what the depression is because I studied about it in school. I also read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Vern and while they seem totally different, they are both equally hard to imagine. These are both chapters in my personal book of history. They both shaped who I am today. I am a product of my history.
I can buy a large and expensive home if I have the money, but I grew up in a two bedroom one bath home. I love the big home, but I loved the little one I grew up in too. It's where I came from and part of my history. I don't hide from small homes out of embarrassment.
The famous saying by George Santayana "Those who cannot remember the past are condemmed to repeat it" brings to mind ill planned wars, slavery and government atrocities. But these are just the big, popular "pasts". The true pasts are your own. Your personal history. Your first grade teacher. The dog that ran out from under your buddies porch and bit you. The first love that smashed your heart and the true love that you are still with. The good and the bad. Leave out a chapter and the book changes.
Remember that we are a work in progress. Don't try to mask where you came from and the mistakes you've made, learn from them and keep going. What you hated, others loved. What you loved, others hated. The gun makes a different sound when it is fired in your direction. Who knows, if the book is good enough, they make a movie out of it!
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