A book is a gift you can open again and again. —Garrison Keillor
I got a Swiffer for Mother’s day. A Swiffer, I said! Who thinks my daughter (who does not read this blog) was sending me a message? A horrible, terrible, no good, very bad message. I did order myself two new books that she wrapped up and placed neatly next to the household cleaning product that will “revolutionize the way I clean.” Books and a pair of Frye sneakers rescued me from I-Got-Cleaning-Productitis for Mother’s Day. I can’t say enough about the redeeming power of good reads.
While I try never to play the envy game, I have a good friend who gives his lovely and bright wife Ramona a bouquet of books for Mother’s Day—oh, what I wouldn’t give for an awesome spray o’ paperbacks! Not just any paperbacks either, one homerun after another. He delivered big time this year with the following arrangement: Wonder, A Man Called Ove, The Invention of Wings, The Pearl that Broke Its Shell and one I’d never heard of, Ready Player One. I cannot applaud the man loudly enough. So the next time you’re stumped about what to give your mother, sister, bestie, or brother with a passion for publications, go for a posy of paperbacks. They’re bound to bring you bunches of praise. Can I get a hear, hear?