Old Letters & Books... Moving Journal #8

I've begun packing now that I have the Dollar Store boxes. I began with kitchen items and serving pieces I doubt I'll have any use for between now and the move. It was a start.

Then I began to dissessemble my office. I have books and more books. I think they spore when I'm not looking. When I moved last time my grandson Zander (e.g. Alexander) got the other grandkids to put the books in the shelves while he set up my computer. They unloaded all my books and within two hours after arriving, my office was all functional. Only they just shoved the books in the shelves more or less by size, oblivious to my personal  requirement to actually know where a book is. I would have set them up by sub-topics within topics, such as: Israel: Biblical history; modern history; language; heroes; literature, etc. But I never rearranged them. So each time I need a book, which I frequently do for research purposes, I have to search for it.  This time I'm going to pack them in categories so when Project Manager Zander has the kids set my office up again, I'll be able to locate what I need easily.

     In the process of dissesembling parts of the office, I came upon a folder of my son's letters that he wrote to me in the days before email. Real letters, with handwriting that would often tell what mood he was in (dreamy and slow, or fast & tense). They were from his Boston University days, from when he moved to Martha's Vineyard for a season, then a brief stint in L.A. until he landed in San Francisco and decided to make it his home. Little by little the letters dwindled off as I recall email taking over. I sat last night for a few hours with a cup of tea, (and okay, yes, a bowl of ice cream too, Mocha Fudge!!) while reading through years of my son's life, 'feeling' with him, remembering, seeing how he was then the person he is now - always the philosopher at heart, a musician, and a people studier.  I'll be sure he gets the letters so he can see that about himself.

     Now that I've decided to tackle packing the books, the biggest challenge is to resist the impulse to stop and read just a paragraph or two. I don't dare sit down with even one, or hours will go by and my ADD distractibility will have won again. OK, Lonnie. Enough writing. Get up and do something productive.