Thursday Thoughts

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

As Arnold Says, I’ll Be Back
Bill and I are leaving this weekend for a big adventure, one that should generate a few blog stories. We are ultimately heading to visit our family in Vermont; however, we are taking an interesting and, hopefully, a fun route. We will fly into NYC, spend a night in the city, and then get on a train – the Vermonter – to travel directly to Montpelier where our family lives. I am mostly telling you all this because there is a likelihood – though not a certainty – that my blogging will be hit-or-miss. I have been quite faithful about my Monday – Saturday blogging, except for rare occasions that mostly involved hospital visits. But I might take a day or two of vacation. Don’t worry. I will be back! In the meantime, I will be kissing and hugging our two Vermont grandchildren.

August Round-up
August is a busy birthday month for us. Not only was Court born on August 8 and Jll on August 17, but we have a total of three – count ‘em – three grandchildren’s birthdays in August. Dagny opens up the festivities on August 7 (this year she turned 10); next comes Micah, who turned 4 yesterday (though he’s pretty sure he’s 5; quite insistent, in fact); Kaiya finishes off the celebrating on August 22, when she will turn 8. This year I have a perfect trifecta of being absent for the birthdays. I was in Estes Park for Dagny’s, Micah was in a car yesterday driving back to Vermont from a Chicago visit with his parents, and I will be in Vermont for Kaiya’s celebration. Dang. Still, they are all special……

Wrap it Up
Every year about this time, I lose my will to live when it comes to my garden flowers. They start looking leggy. Rain is scarce, so they require more watering. I am totally fed up to here of hauling hoses and watering cans back and forth. This year, in particular, I have given up. I will give my flowers a good soaking before we leave, and then will see how they fare in the week we are gone. Survival of the fittest and all. If God wants them to live, he will send rain. My vegetable garden is kind of sad. It was going great guns until a hail storm a few weeks ago pretty much did it in. My cherry tomato plant looks pretty good, but the tomatoes are scarce. My jalapeno plant has been providing peppers for a few weeks. My other pepper plant has peppers, but they are supposed to be orange and still aren’t. I might ask my neighbor to throw some water on my vegetable garden just to prove I’m not the Hannibal Lector of the garden world. Despite my crabby attitude, my petunias are pretty….

God of Wine: Who Knew?
Bill and I, in an effort to not produce any leftovers a couple of days before we leave, dined out last night. (I’m putting a good spin on the motive because the fact of the matter is that I simply didn’t feel like cooking.) As we waited for a table to come available at our neighborhood Italian restaurant – Piccolo’s – Bill noticed a Roman bust hanging on the wall in the bar area in which we were seated. “Who do you guess that is?” he asked me. Not knowing the first thing about Roman history, I guessed the only Roman I knew who might be on a bust – Julius Caesar. “I think it’s Alexander the Great,” Bill said. I would have been satisfied at that point, but he, of course, looked it up. “Nope, I’m wrong,” he said. “Alexander the Great isn’t shown with a beard.” “Really?” I faked interest. “Whatevah,” I actually thought. One would think it would be over, wouldn’t one? But while we were dining, the restaurant’s proprietor, Vince Canino, walked by. Bill called him over and asked him about the bust. Rather than looking annoyed like I suspected he would, Vince instead laughed and said, “I will give you one hint. He’s the god of wine.” Without missing a beat, Bill said, “Oh, Bacchus.” He was, of course, correct. “How did you know?” I asked him. “Oh, everyone knows that,” Bill said, at which point I wanted to dump my wine over him and let the god of wine clean it up!

Glick Glick
Finally, on our way home last night, we spotted the most beautiful full moon you can imagine. With my World’s Worst Phone Camera and my World’s Worst Photography Skills, I attempted to capture the image.

It reminded me of a poem my grandmother used to say when there was a full moon. Pardon my misspelled German words:

Mund, du bist so glucklich; glucklicher als ich.
Eins war ich glucklicher als du.
Er kusste mich, and du sas zu.

Which loosely means

Moon, you are so lucky; luckier than I.
Once I was luckier than you.
He kissed me, and you only watched.

Don’t ask me why I can remember that poem because I can barely remember what day of the week it is. However, Grammie recited the poem enough to us that when Bec was a little girl, whenever there was a full moon, she would tell our parents, “Look, the moon is glick glick. Last night’s moon was glick glick.

Ciao.

17Aug2016

Way Back When

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

I have a friend who has been working on her family genealogy for many years, and has traced her husband’s family’s history back to the 1100s and her own family history, at least on her mother’s side, back to 1024. She has learned amazing things in the process. It is, she says, a process that continues to go on and on.

Alas, there have only been rudimentary attempts at tracing ancestral history on both sides of my family. However, our recent reunion seems to have attracted some interest in our family’s history by a few of my maternal cousins.

Genealogy, like gardening, is something I wish I liked to do. I simply haven’t the patience for it. On the other hand, I am interested – fascinated, really – in learning about my family’s roots. The furthest I have gone is to visit Ellis Island’s web page from which I have been able to find a bit of information about my paternal grandmother’s and grandfather’s immigration to the United States from Switzerland. Here, for example, is a photo of the ship, appropriately called America, on which they traveled the Ocean Blue to America…..

From that website, I also learned that my grandfather indicated his occupation in Switzerland as being a farmer. Seriously? A farmer? Who knew? I only knew him as a baker. The powers-that-be at Ellis Island also mistakenly put my Aunt Myrta’s name as Martha, although admittedly Martha might be the American version of her Swiss name.

Charles and Anna Micek on their wedding day.

On the other side of my family, every time I’ve visited my maternal grandparents’ gravesite in Columbus, I have noticed that in addition to my grandmother’s and grandfather’s graves, there has been an additional grave for someone named Balbina Micek. At the reunion, I learned from one cousin that Balbina was my Grandfather Charles’ sister, who died at the young age of 15. Another cousin indicated she had been told that poor Balbina’s father wouldn’t pay to have her buried (and it seems like there would be a story THERE), so her brother – my grandfather – had her buried in his plot.

Yet another cousin found this obituary in a long-gone Columbus newspaper dated September 1911 that stated: “Belle Micek, a fifteen year old daughter of Philip Micek, who lives on the island, died suddenly Saturday from an attack of heart trouble. The funeral was held from the house of her brother Charles Micek Monday morning, with interment in the Catholic cemetery.”

Ah ha. And at the risk of being accused of using what the nuns used to call the lowest form of humor (that being puns), I must say, THE PLOT THICKENS.

It is probably safe to assume that Belle is a nickname for Balbina. But what does an attack of heart trouble mean, and even more puzzling, where is the island? It’s Nebraska, for heaven’s sake. Landlocked, people!

Yet another cousin seems to have the answer to that puzzling question. Apparently there was a time when the Wood River and the Platte River came together, thereby forming an island of sorts. According to this particular cousin: It was once a very large “island” in the Platte River, prone to flooding, but very fertile. ….. It is where the Pilsno Church and Lone Star Bar are still located, …. there are still Miceks that own and farm what was probably the original homestead.

And it should come as no surprise to anyone that what would remain would be a Catholic church and a bar. Enough said.

I eagerly await my cousins’ further investigations, as I am clearly too lazy to undertake the task. Still, it is like a detective story, which, of course, is why it peaks my interest.

Stay tuned…..

16Aug2016

The New Kale

Posted in Recipes, Side Dishes by kzmclain

I often think about what it must have been like for my grandparents when they came to the United States from Switzerland six or seven years after the end of World War I. I’m sure they were sad to leave their country of origin. Grammie talked about being a young wife and mother and having to say goodbye to her parents, knowing full well that it was likely she would never see them again. She was right. While Grammie and Grandpa did return several times to Switzerland many years later, her parents were long gone and she never did see them again. And no email or Face Time. Whaaaaaaat?

Bill and I traveled around Europe – mostly France and Italy – for three-and-a-half months, and I can tell you that while we enjoyed every minute, we often felt like the proverbial fish out of water. We didn’t know the language. We couldn’t figure out some of the customs. We couldn’t find a good hamburger.

That latter fact is more important than you would think. While we loved the food we sampled during our travels, we often missed the familiar foods we grew up eating – hamburgers, fried chicken, barbecued spareribs. The reason they call these foods comfort food is because eating these foods make us feel comfortable.

So in addition to giving up family and friends and familiar customs, my grandparents had to get used to a whole new way of eating. They, like most immigrants, lived near others from their own countries of origin. Because of this, they probably were able to get some of the foods that were familiar to them. I remember, for example, my dad and my grandparents eating a highly suspect food with a wholly unpleasant smell called head cheese. Head cheese is not cheese at all, but more of a sausage or cold cut made from, well, the head of pigs or cows. Yummers, right? And just to add to the fun, it is set in aspic. You know, aspic – in and of itself a totally disgusting item. You’ll be glad to know that the brains, eyes, and ears are almost never included, according to Wikipedia.

Another delicacy that my grandparents and my father enjoyed was limburger cheese. I couldn’t even be in the room with them when they ate it. It smelled awful. More than awful. Much more than awful. And I once again looked it up on Wikipedia and learned why it has such a dreadful odor. It seems limburger cheese is made using the bacteria called brevibacterium linens. That, my friends, is a bacteria found on the human body and is responsible for human body odor.

I’ve got to stop looking on Wikipedia.

Recently I read that the vegetable kohlrabi is coming into fashion. The new kale, according to what I read. I mentioned this awhile back, and also said that I was having trouble finding the vegetable. In fact, I couldn’t find a single produce person who had ever even heard of it. But I was at lunch with a friend recently who had stopped at a farm near her home in Brighton, Colorado, to bring me fresh corn on the cob, and I mentioned my quest for kohlrabi.

“They had it at the Palizzi’s Farm,” she told me. “I would have brought you some but I didn’t know what it was!”

So I went to a nearby farmers’ market on Saturday where Palizzi’s had a booth, and lo, and behold, I found kohlrabi.

Why kohlrabi? I assure you that it wasn’t because kohlrabi is the new kale. Do I seem like a food snob? No, friends, it was because I remembered my grandmother making kohlrabi (which was and is often eaten in Germany and Switzerland) when I was a child, and I loved it.

The problem is that I couldn’t remember how she made it. I’m pretty sure it involved speck, a bacon-like substance that originated in Europe, which she got from her brother-in-law-the-butcher. I had enough trouble finding kohlrabi; I have no intention of starting a hunt for speck.

But I did find a recipe, and made kohlrabi last night for dinner. It was worth the hunt.

Ingredients
2 kohlrabi bulbs, peeled
2 T. olive oil
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
Salt and pepper to taste
¼ c. Parmesan cheese, grated
Process
Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.

Cut the kohlrabi bulb in half, and then cut the halves into half-moons. Spread on the bottom of a cookie sheet or a baking pan. Sprinkle with the minced garlic; pour the olive oil over the vegetables, and stir until coated. Season generously with salt and pepper.

Bake 10 minutes; stir the vegetables. Bake another 10 minutes. Sprinkle the cheese over the kohlrabi and bake another five minutes.

Serve immediately.

Nana’s Notes: I would definitely compare kohlrabi to turnips except they are much sweeter. They really were very good. And my grandmother DIDN’T use parmesan cheese, I assure you.

15Aug2016

Division

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

“It kind of sounds like some of your Thanksgiving dinners, doesn’t it?” Monsignor Fryer said in his opening remarks about this past weekend’s gospel reading from St. Luke.

Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. From now on a household of five will be divided, three against two and two against three; a father will be divided against his son and a son against his father, a mother against her daughter and a daughter against her mother, a mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.

Every time I hear that gospel reading I think, wow, that doesn’t sound like the let-there-be-peace-on-earth Lord and Savior with whom I’m familiar. What’s up with that?

I have always justified Jesus’ words, according to St. Luke, as his reminding us that he came to earth not to just make the people feel good. He came to SHAKE THINGS UP. He came to encourage people to break out of the status quo. His aim was to make people feel uncomfortable and to stand up for their faith and their belief in God despite their discomfort. It isn’t enough to simply follow the Ten Commandments, he said to his followers. You have to leave your comfort zone and work hard for what God teaches and what you believe.

Msgr. Fryer took my thoughts a bit further, and applied Jesus’ teachings to today’s world. Today’s world, where people are sort of forgetting about faith in God and the teachings of Jesus. Today’s world where it seems like the further people get from God, the more messed up things get.

Jesus preached to his followers that it was their responsibility to preach his word to the world, even if it meant that they were going against the beliefs of their friends and family. And Jesus tells us to do the same thing. Stand up for God’s word. Fight for what you believe is right and for the will of God. In this day and age where people seem to believe that anything goes if it feels right to you, standing up for God’s word is even more important. And often more difficult.

There’s no question that very often being a Christian puts you in a position where you get push-back. As people grow further and further away from God, it becomes more difficult to stand up for what you believe. Do you think that I have come to establish peace on earth, said Jesus.

Bill and I talked about the gospel and about the homily after church. We talked about how every day we hear from our friends and co-workers and television and social media that we have to be tolerant and accept everyone’s beliefs because it is the right thing to do. But very often the so-called tolerance seems to only goes in one direction. We are expected to support everyone’s beliefs, but that support doesn’t seem to have to go both ways.

I think that’s the very thing about which Jesus was speaking. It doesn’t matter if you get push-back. Stand up for what you believe is right. And don’t judge others. Challenge, don’t judge.

And PEOPLE! Love your mother-in-law, no matter what!

13Aug2016

Saturday Smile: Team USA

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

I am smiling today because football season started on Thursday, and I do love me some football. Even preseason. What the heck!

But this week what’s making me smile most of all are the Olympic games. A friend of mine said it best on Facebook: “Our country might be a hot mess politically but we kick A$$ at the Olympics.”

And so we do. I am particularly fond of women’s gymnastics, and so, well, what can I say? The women’s gymnastic team is wonderful. Simone Biles is absolutely amazing to watch. I don’t know how anyone can leap in the air that high. And I was so happy for Aly Raisman when she earned the silver medal. I cried when she cried.

Since my grandkids swim, I have become interested much more in swimming events. Simone Manuel’s gold medal win took my breath away. While I recognize the importance of her being the first African American woman to win an individual gold medal in swimming, I was happy mostly to see a 16 year old girl be the victor — and an unexpected one at that. I loved that the announcers were talking, nearly to the end of the swim, about just how AWESOME the two sisters from Australia were. Suddenly they recognized what was happening right before their very eyes. The look on Simone’s face as she recognized her achievement made me happy. Imagine being only 16 years old and taking home a Olympic gold medal to put on your wall!

As for the gold medal ceremonies, well, needless to say, I cry every single solitary time they play the National Anthem and raise the flag. I don’t know how the athletes keep it together.

Great work, Team USA! Keep it up.

Have a good weekend.

12Aug2016

Friday Book Whimsy: Under the Influence

Posted in Book Reviews by kzmclain

Under the Influence, by author Joyce Maynard, is a book about recovery. Following an unpleasant divorce, Helen is lonely and vulnerable. To compensate for her sadness, she takes to drinking a glass or two, and then three, and then a whole bottle of wine each night after putting her 7-year-old son Ollie to bed. Circumstances requiring her to drive her son to the hospital after such a night lead to her getting a DUI, and eventually to her losing custody to her ex-husband and his new wife. Helen is devastated.

One night, while working for a caterer at a party, Helen, now sober, meets Swift and Ava Havilland, a charismatic couple who take Helen under their wing. She is swept up in their high-energy and exciting lifestyle and becomes creepily devoted to them. So does her son Ollie.

Readers learn in the first chapter that the relationship is not going to be a good one and will not end well. That increases the tension in this compulsively readable novel. Maynard is about as good a storyteller as it gets.

The Havillands frankly gave me the creeps. I think that is the author’s intent, which is why we learn from the get-go that the relationship is doomed. But we have all met people who are so interesting and so much fun that even if we know it isn’t good for us, we love being with them. Swift and Ava made Helen feel loved.

I enjoyed watching the character grow throughout the book. She meets a very good man, and the author does a great job of seeing how Elliott helps Helen to recover. The story’s climax is disturbing and predictable all at the same time.

The end, while somewhat mysterious, is satisfying.

When I grow up, I want to write as well as Joyce Maynard.

Here is link to the book.

11Aug2016

Thursday Thoughts

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Controlled Chaos
We literally came home from our sisters’ weekend in Estes Park to a house full of children. Don’t worry; I knew them all. Court and his wife had asked if we would watch their three kids for a couple of days while they had a relaxing getaway in celebration of his birthday. I agreed. The only caveat was that when they got dropped off Monday morning, I wouldn’t be there. Instead, Papa Bill would be the babysitter. I called in reserves, asking Addie if she would come help her Papa with the kids. When Bec and I walked in the door Monday just before noon, the house was in relatively controlled chaotic shape, and Bill had a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. But the kids were happy and having a great time. I got there just in time to make lunch. After that, Addie once again took over. I will tell you that after Mom picked up the kids Wednesday morning, I turned on mindless television and proceeded to fall asleep.

Solitude
The other thing that took place Wednesday morning was that Bec, who has been visiting for a few weeks to escape the Arizona heat, left to head home. After the kids were gone and Bec was on the road, the house was like a morgue. Once I get a bit of my wind back, I will start housecleaning and doing laundry. In the meantime, however, I got a pedicure. Ah, pedicures….

Hot Time
A couple of days ago, in the midst of the madness from unpacking from our Estes trip and being hit, oops, I mean blessed, with the grandchildren, a Murphy’s law situation happened. Suddenly late in the afternoon, I realized that I was perspiring so much that I looked like Albert Brooks in the movie Broadcast News. I went over to the thermostat, and noticed that not only was the temperature not going down, it was in fact going up, up, and up. I went over to the vent and felt tepid air coming out. Though we placed a call early next morning to the air conditioning company, they only made it to our house yesterday afternoon. As I write this blog post, I am comfortably cool. Sorry to everyone who had to endure our heat wave, especially at night.

At the Zoo
On Tuesday, Bec and I took some of the grands to the Denver Zoo, including Addie to provide moral and physical support. It was quite hot, and we were all worn out by time we made it all around the zoo. I had packed a lunch for everyone, and we enjoyed it in the shade. But just before we left, I treated all the kids to Dippin’ Dots. They were all very happy, and I was once again puzzled as to why anyone likes Dippin’ Dots. Here are some of the precious faces….

There was a great deal of discussion about who would ride on which animal. I’m not sure Cole had much input. He just needed to be on an animal near his sisters and cousins so that Addie could keep a watchful eye. The dolphin it was…

Mylee and Maggie Faith find a shady hidey-hole.

And so do Kaiya and Cole.

Besties….

Ciao!

10Aug2016

Ancient Arts

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Way back in 1917, a young unmarried girl from Kansas moved from her safe home in Kansas to the Rocky Mountains where she bought a cabin out of which she began to sell art. Largely Indian art. Quite a brave move for a single woman in those days. I would like to know a bit more about what made this young woman undertake such an adventure.

As the years passed, this came to that which came to the other, and ownership eventually fell to one Charles Eagle Plume, an American Indian, who expanded the store’s Indian art and brought it to what it is today.

Almost a hundred years later, Bec and I visited Eagle Plume’s, a purveyor of beautiful Native American arts, crafts, and jewelry located in Allenspark, Colorado. We had been told about the trading post the night before while sitting around a campfire with a group of others also staying at the Deer Crest Lodge in Estes Park. Mention genuine Indian-made turquoise jewelry, and we are so there.

The fact of the matter is that we were looking for something a bit different to do with our time. We had been in and out of the various candy stores and souvenir shops purchasing taffy and candy apples and all manner of gifts. We were in the mood to do something a bit different, and visiting Eagle Plume’s seemed right up our alley.

We were greeted at the door by exactly the woman you would expect to work in such a store in the mountains of Boulder County. She was friendly and enthusiastic and knew endless amounts about Indian artwork. The first thing she did was introduce us to a Lakota woman who was creating jewelry and teaching the art of quilling that weekend. The Lakota woman told us about the jewelry she makes out of porcupine quills. Her work was absolutely beautiful, well worth the steep price tag on the pieces, but beyond my pocketbook. We were, however, highly appreciative of the intricate nature of taking little beads made out of porcupine quills that she had dried and dyed, and turning into beautiful earrings and necklaces.

We moved on to peruse other genuine, but less expensive, earrings, necklaces, bolo ties, and other artwork. We also followed out nose to where we had been told fry bread had recently been made. There is nothing that can capture our attention quite like fried bread dipped in honey. Yum.

We enjoyed our visit to Eagle Plume’s immensely, and as expected, each purchased some Native American jewelry. It seemed like the thing to do….

Before leaving, we noticed the teepee located behind the store, and wondered if perhaps the friendly clerk (who, for all I know, might be the owner), lived in this tent in the woods. It seemed quite possible….

It was Boulder County, after all.

9Aug2016

Redrum, Flip Flops, and Other Distractions

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

There are a few things you can count on: death, taxes, and the Gloor sisters leaving their mark on wherever they visit.

This time it was Estes Park, Colorado.

We have been visiting this mountain community since we were in dirndls and Mary Janes, and know it like the backs of our hands. Even so, we find ways to dig up new adventures.

Jen, who still has to deal with that nasty distraction called a job, didn’t arrive until Friday evening, so Bec and I had an afternoon to kill. The weather was overcast, but we took a quick drive into Rocky Mountain National Park anyway so that I could try out my shiny new Senior Parks Pass — the single good thing about turning 62. Ten bucks for a lifetime national parks pass. Smokin’ deal.

Bec mentioned she had never been inside the Stanley Hotel — the haunted hotel made famous by the 1980 movie The Shining. I, on the other hand, had spent one long night many years ago during a work-related three-day meeting. I’m not proud to admit that I was so terrified after one night that I requested permission to sleep in another hotel the next two nights! Upon hearing my story, Bec asked “What was it that scared you?” “Someone walking down the hallway at 3 in the morning,” I told her. When I realized how dumb that sounded, I quickly added, “and some rattling chains.” You had to be there.

Anyhow, we went to the Stanley and had an It’s-5-O’clock-Somewhere martini at the very cool Cascade Whiskey Bar off the lobby. No twins chanting redrum, I’m happy to say, and the martini was cold (and not from ghostly drafts).

We grilled enormous rib eye steaks that night after Jen arrived and finished the day with Fireball whiskey shots after a toast to our absent brother.

We woke up Saturday morning to more overcast skies, but took a stab at finding a precious parking spot at Bear Lake in RMNP. The angels were smiling upon us and we pulled up just as a car left, so we got the opportunity to walk around Bear Lake in homage to our mother. Mom was not a hiker, but she loved the mountains and this particular walk was one of her favorites. And for good reason because the terrain is flat and the scenery is spectacular. Cheers, Mom…

We spent a quiet rest of the day watching hummingbirds battle for what they don’t seem to realize is an endless supply of nectar as provide by the Deer Crest Lodge’s staff. Another nod to Mom, because she loved hummingbirds. I, on the other hand, do not. A bit too darty for me. We ended the day with Italian food and Fireball shiskey shots around the fire pit which we shared with others also enjoying the fire, with a toast to our absent brother.

Jen left after church and breakfast, and Bec and I took a drive to nearby Allenspark to visit a Native American jewelry shop we learned about from our friends around the previous night’s campfire, told to us in appreciation for sharing our Fireball. But before we reached the shop, we stopped at Lilly Lake and walked the perimeter. There are few things we haven’t seen in the Estes Park area and this was one. It was beautiful….

Bec and I concluded our last full day in Estes by visiting the Alluvial Fan, a rocky waterfall resulting from the 1982 Lawn Lake Flood of Rocky Mountain National Park and Estes Park. The trail, we recalled, was short — a mere .3 miles up to the waterfall. We don’t need no stinking closed-toed shoes.

For the most part, we didn’t. But right at the end of the short trail, it gets quite rocky and a bit vertical. We were okay, but certainly the flip-flops we were wearing wouldn’t have been the shoe of choice for real hikers. We got up to the top. As we enjoyed the view, a young couple came down from their close-up view of the waterfall. The young man jokingly said to us, “Which rock up there are you going to walk to?” We laughed accommodatingly, and pointed to a rock way up above us. His friend, a young woman, looked down at our flip-flop-clad feet and said, “Hmmm, looks like you wore your hiking shoes too….” Touche…..

At least this time there were no rattlesnakes.

Bye, Estes. See you in the fall during bugling season!

8Aug2016

Book Worms

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

My nephew Erik’s family has a game they often play at dinnertime. One of the kids will start the game by asking something like, “Mom, what’s your favorite television show?” or “Dad, what’s your favorite place you have ever visited?” They then go around the table, each answering the particular question. Then the next person asks a question. And so forth.

It is, I presume, under this circumstance that my great nephew Carter, who is 8 years old, recently asked his mom a question that tickled her so much that she posted it on Facebook. “Mom, what is your favorite smell?” She answered that she liked the fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla candles. “What’s yours?” she asked him. “I love the smell of a new book,” he answered. “I just love that smell.”

That is a child after my own heart. There is nothing like the smell and the feel of a new book. A hard back book with its perfect cover that creaks as you open the book wide. A paperback book that is smooth and unblemished with a perfectly uncreased binding.

Having said that, I will remind you all that I have confessed that I no longer read paper books, opting instead for ebooks every time. There are pluses and minuses about reading books off of my iPad. In the plus category is the fact that I never have to worry about running out of books. When I finish a book, I always have another book available. I can, in fact, carry with me many, many books. Also, I have a book at hand even in the case of an unexpected circumstance requiring me to wait since I have my kindle software on my phone as well as my iPad. If I want a book, I can get it immediately by going to Amazon and buying the book. And these days there are many books available electronically through the library, though it often requires a wait period. But that is also true of paper books.

But the minuses of reading electronically is that you miss out on exactly what Carter said he likes – the smell and feel of a new book. And please understand this fact: for book lovers, reading is a tactile experience. I love – well, loved – the look and feel of a new book.

The other day I was talking with someone about occupations. Being old and forgetful, I don’t even remember who I was talking to and why we were talking about jobs.

“What would you do for a living if you had it to do over again?” asked Whoever-It-Was-With-Whom-I-Was-Having-This-Conversation.

That’s easy. I would be a librarian.

I would suck at the part about doing research. Research makes me impatient and cranky. And, I know, I know, that’s probably the largest part of the job. But I would excel – EXCEL, I TELL YOU – at the part about talking about books and shelving books and checking out books. Touching books. Because I love books.

All of the above thoughts popped into my head recently because I had cause to actually enter a library building, something I probably haven’t done for over a year. That’s remarkable, because I am one of the world’s biggest users of the library. I have been since I was a little girl. I remember what it felt like to walk up the concrete stairs of our old library in Columbus. The steps were actually somewhat concave from the hundreds and hundreds of people who had climbed them over the years. I remember what the old, heavy wooden door felt like as I pushed it open. And yes, Carter, I remember exactly how it smelled.

But I have little need to actually enter a library these days because I do it all over the internet. I reserve books. I check out books. I download books. I read books. I return the books. All on my computer or my iPad.

The 21^st century is convenient and easy in many ways, but there are many things that I miss as I move into a more and more modern society.

Nana's Whimsies

Musings of a Baby Boomer….

Author Archives: kzmclain

Thursday Thoughts

Way Back When

The New Kale

Division

Saturday Smile: Team USA

Friday Book Whimsy: Under the Influence

Thursday Thoughts

Ancient Arts

Redrum, Flip Flops, and Other Distractions

Book Worms