My dad and I have always had a close relationship despite the miles we live apart. We don’t call each other every weekend or even every month to be quite honest. But when we do talk we spend hours on the phone going over the latest happenings in our life and it’s not uncommon for us to spend a good portion of that time talking about the things we’ve ready lately. Books have always been important to us and my dad instilled in us very early on how luck we were to have access to a ready source of them. You see, he wasn’t born in America. He moved here as a youngster, telling me frequent stories of what they never had access to until they’d arrived here from the Netherlands.
My Dad brought me to my first book sale sponsored by the American Association of University Women (AAUW), held in the basketball court of the local community center. Acres of books all arranged on tables, sorted by subject, and available for purchase for bargain prices that even my childhood allowance could afford. Some years we spent so much time there that I would crawl under the one of the tables, surrounded by the comfortable smell of old books and take a nap while he explored. When I woke, I’d go searching for him and he’d tell me of his latest find. Frankly, it didn’t matter what the topic was, he always made it sound fascinating even to a small child. Continue reading