Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Every summer there was a reading program for kids, with prizes for those who read the most books. Even though I was a voracious and fast reader, I never came close to topping the list. My mother finally explained that to win, I would need to stick to short and simple books. Doctor Zhivago counted the same as Green Eggs and Ham. I had no interested in winning on those terms, but doggedly kept entering, watching my rocket crawl toward apogee while I explored biographies (Marie Curie and Clara Barton), science fiction (Robert Heinlein and Asimov) and whatever I could dig out about space and rockets (which I built).
Today I'm borrowing both fresh air and wireless from the Chester County Public Library while I wait for my car to be serviced down the road. It's a gorgeous day, and their wireless reaches out to the grounds where picnic tables and benches are scattered. The parking lot is packed, and people are scattered around the grounds, mostly workers from the mall across the street on break. I'm under a tree, working up data and writing, and thinking about those glorious stretches of summer when I was free to wander the stars. And about the magic of the internet that lets me wander far and wide from under a cherry tree.