New Bookcase

I never intended to move books today. After all the nagging from my Lake Writer friend and published author of several books Becky Mushko, I figured I’d start my blog. (Becky has nagged me for months. “It’s easy,” she said. “Just do it.”) Instead, this morning I walked Angus the dog, folded three loads of laundry, read e-mail, cleaned the kitchen, and washed a load of sheets and a load of towels. Not together, mind you. Sheets don’t take nearly as long to dry as towels, and I’m a good steward of energy. And I googled blogs of other folks I know and admire, i.e. Becky, Fred First, Fran Nielsen, Colleen Redman, Jack Rupert.

But last week hubby Ron and I acquired two large, just-right-for that-spot bookcases from our neighbor Grace. And after my third cup of Maxwell House this morning, I noticed the bookcases were not full. Horrors. Whatever would my ten grandchildren think? And there was space to put books presently residing for eons on shelves in The Closet. Two and two make four . . .

Stuffed in The Closet I discovered a book I bought when I was in the 12^th grade in Greenville, North Carolina. I’d not thought about it for years. W. Frank Landing was my 12^th grade English teacher, and he wrote a book, War Cry of the South, about the adventures of Confederates during the building of the iron-clad “Albemarle.” War Cry of the South was required reading in his class. Today I tried to google Mr. Landing. No success. I’m, well, 39 years old? Not really, but my mother always said—and I will never forget her words—“A woman who will tell her age will tell anything.” That would make Mr. Landing how old? I wish I’d been able to tell Mr. Landing what his class did for me, and that as an author I realize and appreciate what he went through in getting his book published.

Other books I discovered/rescued from the dank innards of The Closet were California, A Romantic Story for Young People by J. Walker McSpadden, illustrated by Howard L. Hastings, copyright 1926 by J.H. Sears & Co., Incorporated; Camille by Alexandre Dumas, Fils, by The Modern Library New York; Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson (one of my favorite authors), copyright1935 by Whitman Publishing Company, Peyton Place by Grace Metalious, published by Dell Publishing Company, Inc. by arrangement with the original publisher of the work Julian Messner, NC, 1956. In what my daughter Christine calls “Grandmother Books,” I also found a 1972 paperback of Daphne du Maurier’s My Cousin Rachel, Mary Stewart’s 1973 The Hollow Hills, and several hardbacks by Southern writer Inglis Fletcher.

I want to curl up in a corner and re-read these unearthed treasures, but I need to work on my second mystery novel. And company will arrive this weekend, so beds have to be made and the house cleaned.

Hey, this is kind of fun. Maybe Becky was right.