THREE IMPORTANT BOOKS
We are into our fourth day of that predicted early winter with school-closing snow on the ground under brilliant sunshine. Sun Valley must be absolutely gorgeous and busy with the onset of the ski season. I remember its icicles that reached from the eaves of buildings to the ground, a new experience for me and for many of my German students. Today is a day for erecting a snowman for those who indulge in such. But also a great day for writing (and later on, reading) and that's what I'm here to do--write about a certain lot of books.
Perhaps every one of these books I have mentioned onblog before for they comprise much of my favorite reading of all time. It is interesting to know most of them relate to World War II. About a week ago I took them to the Executive Director here for her and her husband to enjoy. After she saw the stack, she said, "I may have to quit my job to find time to read these." On Friday I checked on the reading. She said she's into the novelette The Silence of the Sea by Vercors [pen name]. Her husband is reading Wine and War by Donald and Petie Kladstrup. This is nonfiction, one of those hard-to-put-downables. One can learn much more about WWII from this book than from the typical textbook about the war.
Man's Unconquerable Mind by Gilbert Highet, is not about WWII, but about any war, one could say, and especially one in the future. My blog (in 2010) about this book, which I call MUM, ranks fourth in the line-up of my most popular blogs. It also garnered an excellent comment from a reader. When the E D saw this title, she said, "This is what I need."
To be continued when time allows.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Sunday, November 9, 2014
BELIEVE IT; IT HAPPENED
Just before the early winter that is forecast strikes, let me tell you about the magnificent sight you might have missed last Thursday night. It's possible the memory of this might help to keep you warm--if you saw it!
As Amy started driving me home from shopping, it was dark and getting darker by the second. The sky ahead of us was a gorgeous deep periwinkle blue (at least by my eyesight). But at the 7:00 location behind us the sky was a spectacle as if millions of light bulbs were turned on. This was not the usual beautiful streaked sunset, but one that spread up as high as it was wide. I could hardly believe it, for it was so beautiful. But more was yet to come. In the last minutes of our drive, right in the middle of this marvel appeared a splotch of navy blue, as if God had put His signature on His art work. I shall never forget this. I hope you are one who saw it too.
Just before the early winter that is forecast strikes, let me tell you about the magnificent sight you might have missed last Thursday night. It's possible the memory of this might help to keep you warm--if you saw it!
As Amy started driving me home from shopping, it was dark and getting darker by the second. The sky ahead of us was a gorgeous deep periwinkle blue (at least by my eyesight). But at the 7:00 location behind us the sky was a spectacle as if millions of light bulbs were turned on. This was not the usual beautiful streaked sunset, but one that spread up as high as it was wide. I could hardly believe it, for it was so beautiful. But more was yet to come. In the last minutes of our drive, right in the middle of this marvel appeared a splotch of navy blue, as if God had put His signature on His art work. I shall never forget this. I hope you are one who saw it too.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
AN EPISODE WITH SENATOR RAND PAUL
Almost as soon as I arrived from the hospital to the Rehab center last April, a visitor surprised me, carrying a bouquet of yellow tulips and a large orchid-colored envelope. I recognized him as Rand Paul, Senator from Kentucky. Not long before my accident, I had seen and heard Rand Paul speak on television and I was most favorably impressed by what he said. Of all the names floating around of those who might run for president, I decided Paul was the best of the lot. And now he was visiting me in Idaho! The orchid-colored envelope was addressed to me and stamped, but had not been posted. He carried it. He told me about the tulips. Two years ago he had planted 100 tulips in his yard and left them in the ground all year long. This year he had a thousand! He wished I could see his yard with them in bloom, of course.
All this time, I knew he was in Idaho unofficially campaigning for the presidency. Why choose to visit me? Perhaps he knew about my blogs and maybe I could get him a vote or two from readers. He was surely visiting other people in my state. Perhaps he had a plane at our airport, loaded with bouquets of yellow tulips.
When my friend Amy came that afternoon, she saw the flowers but when I wanted to show her the orchid-colored envelope, it was nowhere to be found. I described it to her: he had written all over the front and back of the envelope. About himself, his family, his state. Campaigning! What a gem this piece of paper would be when he was in the White House! But where was it?
Finally those drugs I'd been dosed with wore off and I realized--when he returned the next day--the tulip planter was none other than the head of therapy at the Rehab, not Senator Paul at all! And no orchid-colored envelope existed. But orchid is one of my favorite colors and I love yellow tulips.
Almost as soon as I arrived from the hospital to the Rehab center last April, a visitor surprised me, carrying a bouquet of yellow tulips and a large orchid-colored envelope. I recognized him as Rand Paul, Senator from Kentucky. Not long before my accident, I had seen and heard Rand Paul speak on television and I was most favorably impressed by what he said. Of all the names floating around of those who might run for president, I decided Paul was the best of the lot. And now he was visiting me in Idaho! The orchid-colored envelope was addressed to me and stamped, but had not been posted. He carried it. He told me about the tulips. Two years ago he had planted 100 tulips in his yard and left them in the ground all year long. This year he had a thousand! He wished I could see his yard with them in bloom, of course.
All this time, I knew he was in Idaho unofficially campaigning for the presidency. Why choose to visit me? Perhaps he knew about my blogs and maybe I could get him a vote or two from readers. He was surely visiting other people in my state. Perhaps he had a plane at our airport, loaded with bouquets of yellow tulips.
When my friend Amy came that afternoon, she saw the flowers but when I wanted to show her the orchid-colored envelope, it was nowhere to be found. I described it to her: he had written all over the front and back of the envelope. About himself, his family, his state. Campaigning! What a gem this piece of paper would be when he was in the White House! But where was it?
Finally those drugs I'd been dosed with wore off and I realized--when he returned the next day--the tulip planter was none other than the head of therapy at the Rehab, not Senator Paul at all! And no orchid-colored envelope existed. But orchid is one of my favorite colors and I love yellow tulips.
Monday, November 3, 2014
ONE VOTE FOR A BOOK
The Executive Director here said about 20 minutes ago that her husband says All the Light We Cannot See is the best book he's ever read! And he has read many, many books. He almost dreads reading the last ten pages, lest the story may not turn out the way he wishes it to. But it will be all right; the author wields a deft pen.
The Executive Director here said about 20 minutes ago that her husband says All the Light We Cannot See is the best book he's ever read! And he has read many, many books. He almost dreads reading the last ten pages, lest the story may not turn out the way he wishes it to. But it will be all right; the author wields a deft pen.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
ANOTHER LOST GENERATION
A whole generation of Americans does not know much about World War II. That is because teachers in public schools did not teach them about that war. They began the class year of American History from the beginning, most likely following some teacher's manual, seldom straying from the textbook. One of my dicta is that a good teacher knows when to stray from the textbook.
Teachers aside, people who have not seen war first-hand, up close and personal, have only a weak idea how horrible war can be. Those who return from the actual fighting don't usually like to talk about it. Therefore, Killing Patton may give some education in this matter. The chapter I read last night is an example. How horrible the conflict, how great the writing.
I did not explain who Patton was in my earlier blog about this book. Suffice it to say for now that he was one of the most highly illustrious American Generals conducting the war in Europe in the 1940's. If anyone reading this says, "Oh, that was before my time [and it's not important to me]," I'll remind such a reader that "History repeats itself." The difference might be only the location. It could happen here.
A big movie called "Patton," I believe, won awards years ago. George Scott won an Oscar for his role as Patton, and a great job he did. I also believe Scott much later apologized for getting the award or perhaps for merely playing the part. Perhaps O'Reilly and Dugard's book will bring back the movie, and maybe a little more knowledge can creep into some heads that don't read.
A whole generation of Americans does not know much about World War II. That is because teachers in public schools did not teach them about that war. They began the class year of American History from the beginning, most likely following some teacher's manual, seldom straying from the textbook. One of my dicta is that a good teacher knows when to stray from the textbook.
Teachers aside, people who have not seen war first-hand, up close and personal, have only a weak idea how horrible war can be. Those who return from the actual fighting don't usually like to talk about it. Therefore, Killing Patton may give some education in this matter. The chapter I read last night is an example. How horrible the conflict, how great the writing.
I did not explain who Patton was in my earlier blog about this book. Suffice it to say for now that he was one of the most highly illustrious American Generals conducting the war in Europe in the 1940's. If anyone reading this says, "Oh, that was before my time [and it's not important to me]," I'll remind such a reader that "History repeats itself." The difference might be only the location. It could happen here.
A big movie called "Patton," I believe, won awards years ago. George Scott won an Oscar for his role as Patton, and a great job he did. I also believe Scott much later apologized for getting the award or perhaps for merely playing the part. Perhaps O'Reilly and Dugard's book will bring back the movie, and maybe a little more knowledge can creep into some heads that don't read.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
BOOKS UPDATE
This evening must not go by without my writing at least one blog. About books, of course.
I loaned my copy of All the Light We Cannot See to the Executive Director here where I live. She told me her husband took it right over and was reading it. (He reads several books at a time, also my custom.) She said he finds it a slow read. That must be because of the particular vocabulary Doerr uses in the novel. In spite of that, Doerr's book is a finalist in the National Book Award coming up in mid-November. You can see all the fiction books in the running on your computer. In the description of the novels, Doerr's is described first. A good write-up about the book. The third book shown is also by an Idaho writer, a Pulitzer Prize winner.
This Director also told me her husband is reading Killing Patton, by O'Reilly and Dugard, which I also have started to read. I'm still reading Washington, A Life, of course, am on about page 60! Surely Patton will be killed before Washington becomes president, if you understand my humor. I had no idea Patton's death was a mysterious one, even quite likely murder, for many wanted to kill him, the authors say. As he lay dying, all the entrances into the hospital had armed guards around the clock, as well as at the door to his room.
There is hardly a period of even five minutes to read anything around here, even mail. Tonight, instead of getting an extra hour of sleep, I hope to read that hour.
This evening must not go by without my writing at least one blog. About books, of course.
I loaned my copy of All the Light We Cannot See to the Executive Director here where I live. She told me her husband took it right over and was reading it. (He reads several books at a time, also my custom.) She said he finds it a slow read. That must be because of the particular vocabulary Doerr uses in the novel. In spite of that, Doerr's book is a finalist in the National Book Award coming up in mid-November. You can see all the fiction books in the running on your computer. In the description of the novels, Doerr's is described first. A good write-up about the book. The third book shown is also by an Idaho writer, a Pulitzer Prize winner.
This Director also told me her husband is reading Killing Patton, by O'Reilly and Dugard, which I also have started to read. I'm still reading Washington, A Life, of course, am on about page 60! Surely Patton will be killed before Washington becomes president, if you understand my humor. I had no idea Patton's death was a mysterious one, even quite likely murder, for many wanted to kill him, the authors say. As he lay dying, all the entrances into the hospital had armed guards around the clock, as well as at the door to his room.
There is hardly a period of even five minutes to read anything around here, even mail. Tonight, instead of getting an extra hour of sleep, I hope to read that hour.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
VETERANS DAY COMING UP
As this retirement facility is soon to celebrate Veterans Day, we veterans were asked a few questions to answer in writing and then two additional comment type questions. The first one for comment was "Most memorable moment in service." This was easy to answer now but I'm sure it was a moment of great sorrow and of great happiness at the time. The great sorrow was knowing the world's first two atomic bombs killed numerous innocent people. The great happiness was knowing the war was over.
The other question for comment was "One interesting story (that happened to you)." At least I had the whole back side of the page to write this. During the writing of it, the perfect title presented itself. Don't let that scare you off; it's not about grammar. I wish I could copy and paste here, but I cannot do that with this Chrome demon running this blogging business. So I'll type it up once again.
A STUDY OF PARENTHESES
In May of 1945, the celebration of victory in Europe (VE Day) gave military personnel extra leave time. Three of us WAVES rode the subway (free because of our uniforms), into Manhattan where we had two days of freedom (having to be back at barracks by midnight). Late Sunday night, as we walked from the El train (the subway came out of the earth in front of Yankee Stadium and became the Elevated), back to our barracks (nice apartments in the Bronx), we ran into an Italian Block Party. When those patriotic Italian American citizens saw our uniforms, they ran to us and hugged us FOR WINNING THE WAR (in Europe)! Tables of food and drink and music filled the street (this block was roped-off) and they invited us to help ourselves to the Italian goodies. But we declined. It was almost midnight. Still they begged us to stay. Finally one WAVE said we had to leave for she needed to go to the bathroom! A dear lovely lady invited her to her own house for that purpose. We all three went, of course (for we had promised to stick together). The modest house was clean and lovely, with patriotism everywhere. We apologized for using the beautiful (hand-embroidered) guest towels. Our hostess said she'd be thrilled to show them off (and tell who had used them). We soon got away after hugs all around again. Once we were out of their sight, we high-tailed it back to the barracks. It was four minutes till midnight. The most important part of this story is the patriotism these Italians expressed for our country (and theirs).
As this retirement facility is soon to celebrate Veterans Day, we veterans were asked a few questions to answer in writing and then two additional comment type questions. The first one for comment was "Most memorable moment in service." This was easy to answer now but I'm sure it was a moment of great sorrow and of great happiness at the time. The great sorrow was knowing the world's first two atomic bombs killed numerous innocent people. The great happiness was knowing the war was over.
The other question for comment was "One interesting story (that happened to you)." At least I had the whole back side of the page to write this. During the writing of it, the perfect title presented itself. Don't let that scare you off; it's not about grammar. I wish I could copy and paste here, but I cannot do that with this Chrome demon running this blogging business. So I'll type it up once again.
A STUDY OF PARENTHESES
In May of 1945, the celebration of victory in Europe (VE Day) gave military personnel extra leave time. Three of us WAVES rode the subway (free because of our uniforms), into Manhattan where we had two days of freedom (having to be back at barracks by midnight). Late Sunday night, as we walked from the El train (the subway came out of the earth in front of Yankee Stadium and became the Elevated), back to our barracks (nice apartments in the Bronx), we ran into an Italian Block Party. When those patriotic Italian American citizens saw our uniforms, they ran to us and hugged us FOR WINNING THE WAR (in Europe)! Tables of food and drink and music filled the street (this block was roped-off) and they invited us to help ourselves to the Italian goodies. But we declined. It was almost midnight. Still they begged us to stay. Finally one WAVE said we had to leave for she needed to go to the bathroom! A dear lovely lady invited her to her own house for that purpose. We all three went, of course (for we had promised to stick together). The modest house was clean and lovely, with patriotism everywhere. We apologized for using the beautiful (hand-embroidered) guest towels. Our hostess said she'd be thrilled to show them off (and tell who had used them). We soon got away after hugs all around again. Once we were out of their sight, we high-tailed it back to the barracks. It was four minutes till midnight. The most important part of this story is the patriotism these Italians expressed for our country (and theirs).
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