As you may know, I have been blogging family history for nearly three years. I hit a stall about Christmas time and didn't want to start writing opinions about the popular things in the world, mainly because I really don't know enough about them. But the other day, while watching a fishing show, a guy was sharing his library about something, (danged if I can remember), and showed a National Geographic from the 1920's. I have, amongst other treasured possessions, Uncle Olaf's leather bond National Geographic books from the teens and twenties. It gave me an insight as to what may be interesting to research, that is, books, old books.
I admit that I am not much of a reader. I can not compare with generations back and forward who actually love to read. I admire people who read for pleasure; I don't seem to have the "reading gene". Give me a topic I am interested in and I will search and search to find the information. My friend, Dixie, said that I would read five books to learn how to plant a tulip bulb, although you know, there is only one way.
The books I have read in my lifetime for pleasure could fit into a banana box. Most of them are animal stories along with series of books by one author I have read since in Fargo. Oh, sure, there have been books I started on a Friday and looked up at the world around me on Sunday to note I felt nearly blind, yet how can you lay down a series like "Rich Man Poor Man"?
So, the idea is, beyond the hobby horse where Raggedy Ann and Andy ride, into the glassed doored bookcase I will venture and pull out Olaf's books and carefully turn the pages and see if the intend can nurture the idea.
Let's start with Volume 35.