A reminder: there is no Christmas without books. At least, not for some of us.
This is true even in times of COVID, when some of us positive-testing types with our sniffles and coughs (ahem) stay home and take care of the dogs and cats, while the rest of the local family travels up to Dayton, Ohio and hangs out non-virtually with grandparents who especially ought not to be exposed to viruses and sisters and nieces and aunts and uncles and cousins and their spouses and dogs and cats.
[A silent retreat is not a bad Christmas present, though. Just sayin.]
This year was no exception. In fact, when I was at last able to look at the new stack of books that came with Christmas, I was a little worried that my generous family might have thwarted my efforts to repeat last year’s feat of reading more books than I acquired (by various means) during the year. Especially as this hasn’t been my best year for reading.
It’s been a better year for not spending money I don’t have on books I don’t really have time to read, however. So my family’s making up for that has still left me on the favorable side of the balance sheet.
I didn’t think I needed to count the new Bible as a new book, exactly. Mainly because it’s replacing the one that’s falling apart. And blessedly, not a moment too soon.
Admittedly, it is in the “read me” category. But … differently.
Once again, many thanks to my kind and generous and book-loving family, from the year’s designated pariah!
Matters of Interpretation 