I didn't mean to, but I was at the mall waiting for my hair appointment and I wandered into the book store. I got three paperback books off the "3 for 2" table, paid for them, and walked out feeling a little guilty, but not much.
You will have to forgive me; I have already forgiven myself. We are leaving for Watervale next week, and the thought of a week at Watervale without a stack of new books to read was too dismal to contemplate.
So what did I buy? What brought to an end my year of not shopping?
"The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini, recommended by my sister;
"The Road" by Cormac McCarthy, recommended by my new boss and an Oprah's Book Club selection; and
"Blink" by Malcom Gladwell, the author of "Tipping Point", a book I really enjoyed.
This doesn't mean that I am going to go crazy with shopping. I plan to overlook this little lapse and continue to resist mindless shopping for the balance of the year. Not buying new things has helped me to appreciate the things I already own.
Two poems today, just because I like them:
Lending Out Books
Hal Sirowitz
You’re always giving, my therapist said.
you have to learn how to take. Whenever
you meet a woman, the first thing you do
is lend her your books. You think she’ll
have to see you again in order to return them.
But what happens is, she doesn’t have the time
to read them, & she’s afraid if she sees you again
you’ll expect her to talk about them, & will
want to lend her even more. So she
cancels the date. You end up losing
a lot of books. You should borrow hers.
The Fiddler of Dooney
William Butler Yeats
When I play on my fiddle in Dooney,
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.
I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.
When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state,
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;
For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance:
And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With "Here is the fiddler of Dooney!"
And dance like a wave of the sea.
