My brother John's book, Loon, A Marine Story, will be on sale in bookstores on Tuesday, May 19th.
The writing of the book is a story unto itself but today the story is about my mother, Martha Lamb McLean. Loon is dedicated to her.
Mom encouraged John to "do something" with the letters that he wrote to us from Viet Nam.
Forty years later and twenty years after her death, Random House has published the book that was inspired by those letters.
Back to Mom. She was an avid reader. She did not hold back when it came to buying books. The latest books in hardcover stood between two bookends on a table in the living room. As I got older, I just wanted to settle down on her couch and read when I visited her. I was in my thirties then and there was no time for quiet activity of any kind!
I looked longingly at her collection. She was an adventurous reader, too. Doris Lessing, Margaret Atwood and Ruth Prawer Jhabvala were some of her favorite authors.
When she died, I brought home many of her books thinking that one day I would have the time to read the treasures that she so often recommended to me. I also hoped by reading Mom's books I would get a glimpse into her mind, into the things that mattered to her.
Most of her books sit unread on my bookshelf. One of these days I will attempt Doris Lessing again, get lost in an escape by Elizabeth Drabble and finally read Elizabeth Bowen. "You will love Robinson Davies, Barb. One of Canada's great writers!" I can hear her saying.
I will read those books eventually, maybe when I am closer to the age that she was when she read them. For now, I will appreciate the love of books I have inherited from my mother and read whatever I want to.
Reading is a personal act and and free choice is the best part!
Happy Mother's Day!
3 comments:
Thank you Barb, and thank you Mom.
My life has been blessed with extraordinary women who have deeply shaped the person that I have now become.
I am holding an advance copy of Loon right now and find it very difficult to get past the dedication page without evoking a depth of feeling from my very marrow.
Today, a spectacular early spring day in New England, I think of Mom busy in the garden planting, transplanting, raking, moving rocks, and soon to be covered with poison ivy for the rest of the season.
Wow, Barb. You touched it.
John. Wonderful. She knew.
Ruthie. Outstanding, but expected.
Me? Tears. I am there.
So much in our lives depends upon the foundations laid by our parents.
Jack finally "did something" with those letters and how transformative it has been.
As for being in one's thirties with no time for quiet activity - my word are SAM and I there.
Nevermind reading books, I barely have time to scan the paper at breakfast.
Old habits die hard, however, because, while I don't have time to read books, I keep buying them and have built up a backlog.
It's a little depressing to think that there won't be time to catch up on the growing pile of reading for quite a few years yet.
I did read Jack's story, however, so maybe it's a matter of priorities...
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