I know that all of you, my Gentle Readers, have been wondering where I have been! Right? Of course you have – so I will tell you. I have been indisposed. Isn’t that a lovely word? Indisposed. . .what does that mean exactly? Well, Merriam-Webster defines it thusly:
2 : averse
On August 6, I had surgery to fuse my right wrist. Because of a number of different problems inherent with my own particular wrist anatomy, the surgery took more than 4 hours. I was in hopes that my excellent surgeon would be able to accomplish two procedures this time around and avoid a second surgery, but that was not to be. I am in hopes over the next few weeks, that with some different therapies we will be able to avoid that altogether, but only time will tell.
So! You now have me as your friendly ONE-HANDED blogging companion. I know I’ve said that I’ve been one-handed before, but now I really am – I’m not to use any of my right fingers – even the two that work! SO, typing and blogging have become a real challenge for me, and because it has become such a time-consuming chore to get my thoughts on paper or screen, I’m sure you will be relieved to know that I will be publishing over the next few weeks some chapters from my forth-coming “Book of Odes to the Everyday.” Doesn’t that sound grand? If such a book ever comes out, it will be because I print it in my own basement with an old mimeograph machine… I do have a few chapters written, so I will begin with my first ode, which was written many, many years ago – the ones to follow in the forthcoming weeks have been penned more recently.
Ode to My Books
©1997 Paula Tohline Calhoun
Books in bookshelves, firmly packed,
Books on counters, neatly stacked.
Books by every couch and chair
Books on floors and on the stair.
Books for pleasure, books for learning
(Not one single book for burning).
Books for reading, books for show
Books that shine with afterglow
Of days spent telling stories culled
From those same pages read of old.
Books we’d love to give away,
And books to savor, meant to stay
With those who know the joyous taste
Of books embossed and leather-cased
Devoured as the hours pass
While sitting in some boring class.
(Those who say that class was wasted,
Don’t know just how good that book tasted!).
Books by authors known to few
Books so old that now they’re “new.”
Books that nourish starving minds,
Books for everyone, all kinds.
Books that still reside in me,
Fresh, as they will always be.
Should all the world and all within it
Fall away this very minute –
Were there no humans left to love,
Just my books, and God above –
Then list my life replete, well fed!
With all my books, I’ll be well-read.
And – when it comes to reading, dear Gentle Reader, there can never be enough…