Born in the 60's

 I turn 50 this year.  Lot's of things were born in 1969.  Sesame Street, Woodstock, the Stonewall Riots, men walking on the moon, Belikan Beer (Hey Belize!  I see your Go Slow selves out there!).  So many things turn 50 this year.  Including me.   Any time there is a season of momentous change and innovation, inevitably, the times preceding it are rife with unrest and disequilibrium.  I give you, 1968.

My friend Jennifer is a super-smart writer and she contributed to my current read: 1968: Today's Authors Explore a Year of Rebellion, Revolution, and Change. 

It is an anthology of non-fiction stories revolving around the climate of rebellion and unrest and revolution and, ultimately, change that made up 1968.  I'm eager to read her work.  I'm eager to read all the work.  Am I eager to turn 50?  Well, I suppose that is yet to be seen.  I might be up for some rebellion, some revolution, and certainly some change.

Nothing New Under the Sun

I've just finished Daddy-Long Legs by Jean Webster, who, interestingly enough was the Great Niece of Mark Twain.  I guess it has always paid to know the right people in the world of publishing.  In any case, when I started reading this book, I was taken with how sweet and innocent it was.  The adorable story told in a series of letters, of a young orphaned girl sent to college by an anonymous benefactor.  Now that I'm done, honestly, I'm a little creeped out.  No spoilers here, but reading this through a modern lens gave me pause and reminded me how entrenched we are in predatory behavior masquerading as saviourism, especially on the part of wealthy, white men.  We've been conditioned to see it as romance, especially through this whole schoolgirl romance genre so popular in pre-WWI America, continuing well into the present day.  Pretty Woman anyone?  Hello, creepy predator played by Richard Gere. All we have to do is read the headline news see that not a whole lot has changed. 

I've made this deal with myself that for the rest of the year, the bulk of my books would come from the discard box at the used bookstore where I spend one day a week.   This may or may not be a decision that I am thrilled with but it will be an interesting experiment nonetheless.  Needless to say, I'm reading absolutely nothing that any of my people are reading or even have read in the past decade or so.  This month alone I've read: Nature Girl by Carl Hiaasen, a mystery/suspense novel set in the Florida Everglades,  Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith, the story of a young couple's first year of marriage, taking place in a 1920's Midwestern college town, and I am now knee-deep in Jean Webster's classic Daddy-Long Legs written in 1912 about a young, orphaned girl who is sent to college at the behest of an anonymous benefactor.  I'm pretty sure I haven't read this last book since I was in junior high.   I'm also relatively confident that no one in my world is reading it, although, it's pretty darn sweet and I wish I could think of someone else who would want to read it too. 

The thing is, I have such a deep sadness to see good books ignored and forgotten.  I'm like the lady with 15 cats.  I want to rescue them all.

Bipolar kayak ecotours, Seminole identity raising, telemarketers, private investigators and assault by crabs.  This book has it all. 

I'm only part way through this book.  I have nothing to say as of yet, except, it is so darn sweet and exactly what I wanted to read when I was in 4th and 5th grade.  The only difference now is that I'm almost 50.  I still want to read the same sorts of things, well-written books.

Loosely based on the author's own first year of marriage, this book is full of Americana that we so frequently and conveniently forget.  Also, Betty Smith wrote one of my all-time favorite novels, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. So there's that.