More Books in the House

The Christmas wrapping is in the compost and the presents are now in a stack next to my bed.  They are almost all books, added to the hundred or so others piled up between my side of the bed and the window.  I've been home from work for a couple of days, and during this time have acquired even more.  I went to a book store on Wednesday, looking for a copy of "Love in the Time of Cholera" for a book club that I may or may not make it to, but they didn't have it in stock so I got it nearly instantly downloaded to my Kindle instead (when two day delivery is not fast enough).  Others have come up in other discussions for another book club, another I heard about from a New Yorker article, and I ordered all of them.

We were walking the dog the other day and I asked whichever children were accompanying me (it's not that I have that many, but they are all at home at the moment) how many books they thought we have in our house.  Sarah estimated ten thousand, which seemed to me to be a reasonable guess - almost every room has bookcases, and they are insufficient to hold all the books, which are also in boxes and stacks and spread across the floor where stacks collapsed.  When Caroline was in kindergarten, she was recruited to participate in the kindergarten cohort of the Early Childhood Longitudinal Study, a U.S. Department of Education-sponsored study that included periodic in person assessments, teacher questionnaires, and telephone interviews of parents.  One question they always asked me was how many children's books we had in our home; I remember estimating eight hundred the first time I was asked and two thousand years later -- the interviewers always seemed surprised; not skeptical, just surprised.

Most of those have been cleared out now - they went to neighbors, to neighborhood preschools and to Morningside Elementary and to book drives for other schools and maybe some of them to Goodwill -- but we all are accumulators of books, and the result is apparent in almost every room.  I have been thinking about this recently not because I am concerned about the clutter (which I should be more than I am) but because I now know that it is hopeless that I will every get everything read that I intend to read.

Years ago (I don't even remember when) I used to keep track of the books I read on 3 by 5 inch index cards.  After that there was a notebook; I don't know what happened to either that or the 3 by 5 cards.  Then there was nothing for a long time (which may have had something to do with having children) and then there was Goodreads.  I liked being able to easily add a book to the list of books I want to read, and then move them, one at a time, from "Want to Read" to "Currently Reading" to "Read." And then there are the reading challenges, setting goals for how many books you plan to read, and periodically checking how you're doing.  One recent year I set a goal of fifty, and came no where near it.  This year's goal was 26, but I have been reading more (I have periodically sworn off watching television news, this year, and have consciously tried to read instead) and I am now at forty books read in 2017, and may finish that book on the Kindle by the end of the year (or not).

But here's the calculation I just did.  Let's say, for purposes of discussion, that I have another thirty years of reading ahead of me (which would get me to an age older than both of my long-lived parents) - and I managed to read an average of fifty books a year for those thirty years.  That is only fifteen hundred books, for the rest of my life - and I just got eleven books for Christmas (okay, so one was a book on hydroponic gardening that is more of a reference book and probably won't be read cover-to-cover) and since Christmas I've bought five more, including the one I am currently reading on my Kindle.

I really am fine with getting rid of most of them, after I've read them - I regularly pass them along to someone else, or leave them in a neighborhood Little Free Library, or drop them off in a Better World Books donation box.  Our house is not full to the rafters with books we've read (although some of them we have) but with books we mean to read.  So I guess this means I should stop writing, right now, and start reading - because I can't really do too much about the thirty years, at this point, but maybe I can increase the fifty.  Fifteen hundred is just not a big enough number.

A Saturday Morning Bike Ride

Yesterday morning I went on a bike ride by myself.  Since he got his bicycle, Tom has usually come with me, but he didn't yesterday morning, so I could stop and look at things that usually we just ride by.  Here is what I saw.

I rode into the Piedmont Park extension, across Monroe, and over the wooden bridge that goes across Clear Creek, which runs behind Ansley Mall and eventually joins (or perhaps becomes) the South Fork of Peachtree Creek.  Although it may be less polluted than it used to be, as the city has been forced to address storm sewer overflow issues, it still sometimes smells of sewage.  There are signs that say no fishing and no wading.  So it's always a surprise to see wildlife there.  Looking north from the bridge, there was a pair of ducks.

Once I was through Piedmont Park and back across Monroe, there was the ghost bike in memory of the Grady High School student riding her bike home following a school theater performance who was struck by a car and killed in February.  I've ridden by here a number of times but had not stopped before.  Near the ghost bike there's a memorial to Alexia.

Continuing south on the Eastside Trail, there are koi painted on the trail.  I know the Beltline people are fanatical about unauthorized art, but I really like these.  I think the same artist has painted koi on the sidewalks on Edgewood; I probably have pictures from there, too.

In Inman Park, there was a new tiny door I hadn't seen, from TinyDoorsATL.  

And one of the old tiny doors has been relocated.  This is the one at the overpass near the skate park.

Coming back across Clear Creek, looking south this time, there were these turtles sunning themselves on a partially submerged log.

And finally, on that long uphill stretch of Cumberland Road, I stopped at the Little Free Library.  There was a Post-It note on the door, saying the books were all new as of April 16.  I looked, and somewhat to my surprise found (along with the expected popular fiction) a copy of Balzac's Old Goriot and Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov.  What a great neighborhood.

You miss a lot, if you don't stop to look.

Not My Neighborhood

When Caroline was in kindergarten, she (and we) were asked to participate in the Early Childhood Longitudinal Study.  This study, sponsored by the U.S. Department of Education, followed a group of kindergartners from the class of 1998-1999 through 8th grade.  Study staff met with Caroline several times at school and they probably got input from her teachers as well (although I don't remember that for sure).  What I do remember were the long telephone interviews, asking about who was in the household and who took care of her.  There were questions over the years about how many children's books we had in the house.  As all three kids got older, there were more and more, and I remember one interviewer seemed incredulous in one of the later interviews when I estimated it at 2,000.  That probably was a low number, in retrospect, given how many boxes and bags full of books we've given away to pretty much anyone we could get to take them over the years.  We've given some to neighbors and boxes and boxes of them have gone to Morningside Elementary.  Some have gone to one of the green Better World Books bins around town.

One day last week someone on Noble Drive posted a note on the Morningside-Lenox Park email list requesting book donations for an elementary school in West Atlanta.  Last year the PTA at that school had sponsored a reading event and there was lots of interest from the students; in the course of this, it became apparent that there was a big unmet need in many children's homes for books.  So someone in my neighborhood sent out an email, asking us all to check our bookshelves, and so Iain and I did that on Saturday.    

I delivered the books on Sunday.  That overfilled box in the front are the books that I brought, but clearly we weren't the only family with books to donate.  I'm glad there was such a good response to this very worthwhile effort.

On the way home I was thinking about all the things we do with books that we're through with -- pretty much anything but throw them away (although I've done that too).  And then I drove past the Little Free Library that one of our neighbors has placed between the sidewalk and the curb in front of their house at Cumberland and Reeder.  We've left books there, too, as well as in the one on North Pelham.  Of course a Little Free Library is no substitute for a public library, but it's not intended to be; it's a way to pass along a book you don't want to keep to a neighbor who would enjoy it -- which certainly is a good thing to do.

Except in Leawood, Kansas, where a family had built a Little Free Library in their front yard, and then were informed by the city that the structure was in violation of a city ordinance prohibiting structures in front yards.  (I can only assume that bird houses are prohibited as well.)  According to the city, there had been complaints from neighbors.  One can only wonder what kind of neighborhood results in complaints like these, which blogger Scott Doyon cited from news reports. 

"Why do we pay taxes for libraries and have those boxes on our streets? In a blighted area? Sure, put them everywhere. We’re not a poor area. We don’t need them."

"First, there was just a library. Then, a bench was placed next to it. I think people were concerned there would be more and more stuff at their front yard."

The Kansas City Star editorial got it just right. "Neighbors who might be worried about them should wander over and borrow a book."

Read more here: http://www.kansascity.com/opinion/editorials/article590071.html#storylink=cpy

Last week the Leawood City Council unanimously approved a temporary exemption from the ordinance for Little Free Libraries.  So the Collins family's little library is legal in Leawood until October 20.  I'm not sure what happens then.

Thankfully, that's not my neighborhood.  Need something to read?  Lots of books to choose from, just around the corner.  And when you're done with it, you can pass it along to another neighbor.