The Patience of Ordinary Things
by Pat Schneider
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they're supposed to be.
I've been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Last week, while browsing in a local bookstore, I happened upon wonderful book, Everything I need to Know I Learned from a Children's Book, edited by Anita Silvey. I was utterly charmed and enthralled as I thumbed through the book. In it, famous people from all walks of life--scientists, authors, actors, NPR hosts, sports figures, business tycoons--talk about what book has had the most influence on them. Books like To Kill a Mockingbird, All of a Kind Family, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Little House, The Travels of BaBar. See a trend here? They're all children's books! Which made my librarian and writer's heart swell with pride and hope. I did something I rarely do: I bought the book. I've been dipping into it, savoring it when I eat breakfast or lunch.
And it got me to thinking: what about books in my childhood? I was a ravenous, passionate reader from an early age. Could I really point to just one book? No. But I will narrow it down to two. Casey the Utterly Impossible Horse, by Anita Feagles was the first chapter book I was able to read on my own. It's a wonderfully silly story about a demanding, vain, talking horse who insists he needs his own pair of pajamas. I read it over and over to my father, and we laughed at the horse's foolishness. This book not only marks my ability to read on my own; it also marks a happy time in my childhood. When I was about nine, I discovered a book in my elementary school library: Season of Ponies, by Zylpha Keatley Snyder. I read that book so many times, my name filled up both sides of the check out card. Mrs. Conway, the librarian, had to put in a new card for me to fill up. Why did I read it over and over? It was about a girl who had lost her mother and her father. She was a girl, like me, who's heart was broken and who loved horses, and who longed for things hard to express. It was a book filled with longing, and sadness, and magic, and hope, and horses. I found a friend and myself in that book.
So tell me. What book spoke to you, what book enveloped you, and possibly, shaped you as a child?
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Hey everybody! This is my first official posting on my new adventure as a blogger! I promise not to bore you with the minute-by-minute details of my life because, quite frankly, I doubt I'm that interesting. Instead, I'll talk about my thoughts on books, dogs, and the occasional rant on who knows what. And I'll let you know what's happening with my books. So, if you have nothing better to do with your time, fix yourself a cup of tea and welcome!