Recently I told the somewhat embarrassing story of going to Lordco in Osoyoos to buy wiper blades. That story prompted some reflection on my present and past and led to a story about my father.
In the meantime I have still been thinking about the novel Your Face in Mine by Jess Row. The book is pretty memorable for quite a few reasons. This book also has a 'dad' connection that is worth a little storytelling. I got lucky with my own dad, but I also got lucky with my two fathers-in-law, and the book is emblematic of a tiny part of that.
If I walk into my in-laws apartment, I know with unwavering certainty that the coffee table will be covered with an assortment of thought-provoking books. New and interesting, classic and unforgettable, it's all there. My fathers-in-law being who they are, they usually encourage us to leave with at least one book.
It's one of those nebulous things that, simply by its existence, reassures and comforts me - something like a bowl of soup on a wet Vancouver afternoon. It's nice to know that there will always be a pile of books there, that there will be people reading those books, and that someone will insist you take one away to read.
It's nice to know that the people you're stereotypically supposed to dread being around, love to talk to you about books, ideas, films, and plays. They engage with the world and with you and crave new experiences...
As I'm writing this, I'm realising that I really don't have any point. I'm not sure where I'm going with this other than to say I'm lucky. Perhaps I'm just feeling sentimental about Dad and the season in general...
Whatever it is, I am glad to know those books will be there on the coffee table. Thanks, Dads.
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