books, books, booksHusband and I came home with more bookshelves last night. I'm still unpacking books, trying to get them in the right place, trying to get them in some sort of reasonable order. Some of the way the books have landed have been entertaining, like a couple of volumes of Jim Morrison's poetry next to books on depression. When we got to OKC, we just started unpacking boxes, and most of my professionally religious books are still in the boxes from my office (note to self: I've gotten by without most of them for a very long time. What should this tell me?)
Of course I can't go through books without thinking about why I keep them or why I have them in the first place. Where I bought them. What was going on in my life when I first read them.
For example, I have a collection of the works of Bobbie Ann Mason. Why, you ask. Ms. Mason's writings, short stories and novels (most famously "In Country," which was made into a movie) are set in the Jackson Purchase area of western Kentucky, which runs right along the Mississippi River. I spent 2 summers in the Jackson Purchase learning that I wasn't cut out to be a professional archaeologist, and another summer as an employee of Murray State University as an intern at Wickliffe Mounds Research Center, which I discovered on some jaunts this spring is now owned by Kentucky State Parks. When I pick up those books I am reminded of being gawky and awkward (why do I have these books again) but also of those moments when I had glimpses of adulthood and adventures, when I had the possibility of changing life into something I wanted to live and not what others wanted me to do for me.
I could reminisce about most of the books I've moved around today, so I'll stop now.
p.s. and a happy blogiversary to Beth. I took a fabulous knitting class with her at Knitorious in St. Louis last fall, and I'm so happy to be able to follow her adventures, yarn and otherwise, online.