One of the things I’m thankful for is the gift of reading or, to
be more precise, the gift of the pleasure of reading. It’s hard to
trace that back. My parents read books consistently, voraciously
while on vacation. And the SF Chronicle came daily, when the green
was truly sporting. Then, came Latin in high school
…
One of the things I’m thankful for is the gift of reading or, to be more precise, the gift of the pleasure of reading. It’s hard to trace that back. My parents read books consistently, voraciously while on vacation. And the SF Chronicle came daily, when the green was truly sporting. Then, came Latin in high school …
So there are roots, but I think I came to love reading when the “SR something” reading program – it was either SRA or SRI for Stanford Research something – came into the grade-school classroom. To this day I think the world of that program. There were colored groupings of stories that you read, took a test, then after a while moved ahead to another color. In one sense it was a – dare I say it in the day and age of student self-esteem before all – competition, in another sense everyone just read at their own pace and learned, among other things, to enjoy reading and making progress.
There were, of course, the influential and memorable English teachers. Mr. Canney, the seventh grade teacher who suffered the more-than-occasional bloody nose that would chase him from the classroom. He made sure we read and discussed relevant books like “The Catcher in the Rye” and introduced us to Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” – my generation’s Harry Potter. I used to read that by flashlight, under the covers, until sleep wrestled me from the spell of Mordor.
In high school, Mr. Sullivan’s smorgasbord provided grist for my young mind’s mill from existential to romantic literature, from Nietzsche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” to Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby.”
Teachers inspired me to explore, books fed my mind and filled me with possibilities like those that captured my high school imagination in James Michener’s “The Drifters.”
It’s funny how enduring some book memories are. I can’t remember this particular character’s name in “The Drifters,” but I remember that he always put a sign up wherever he drifted to detailing the exact latitude and longitude of the place because he was the kind of person who “wanted to know exactly where he was all the time.” For the record Gilroy’s latitude is 37.014389 and longitude is –121.550944.
Since it’s Black Friday, the traditional start to the madcap shopping season, I thought I’d make a couple of book recommendations for people on your Christmas list. And if your budget is a bit tight this year, remember there are monthly book sales at the Gilroy Library on the third Saturday of each month from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., in the meeting room. Gifts don’t have to be expensive, just thoughtful.
In the past year, I’ve read some fabulous sports-oriented books. A young friend of my daughter’s gave me a biography of Coach Bill Walsh called “The Genius.” Marvelous insights into a unique man and his life journey that go far beyond the simple equation of three Super Bowl Rings and the 49ers’ NFL dominance under his leadership. It’s funny, I’ve read so many times in obituaries during my 24-year tenure as editor a line that included, “he was an avid 49ers fan …” I get it, and if there’s someone on your list who understands why this is important, this would be a treasured gift.
Shifting to baseball, David Maraniss’s engaging “Clemente: The Passion and Grace of Baseball’s Last Hero” weaves painful cultural truths in 1960s America into the complex life of the “Pride of Puerto Rico.” Clemente played the game with exactly what Maraniss outlines in the title: passion and grace. But there was so much more to the man than the game – his pride in his country, his philanthropy, his humble beginnings and his true grit. Like all good sports book, it’s the humanity behind the figure that gives it life.
To finish the sports genre, if you have a golfer on the list pick up “Final Rounds,” the tale of a son who takes his dying father to Scotland for a few … yep, final rounds. Remarkably poignant life lessons from James Dodson sprinkle the pages like morning dew on the fairway. Even those with little interest in golf would enjoy the words of wisdom and the simple “rules” applicable to life and golf.
Turning away from sports, a deeper read is “The Shack.” If you’re ready to tackle life’s hurts and reflect on God and how spirituality fits into your view of life, read it. It’s emotionally challenging, humorous in its own way, and sublime without being exhaustingly intellectual. If the book can spiritually inspire a Sunday sermon from my uncle, Fr. Dan, who’s been in the priesthood for eternity, there’s something worthwhile inside that book jacket.
Lastly, there’s the “Last Lecture.” Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon University, who wrote the book that has turned into a worldwide phenomenon for his three young children. He wrote it after the doctors told him he had terminal pancreatic cancer. It’s a brilliant, heartfelt, straight-talking speech:
n “Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted.”
n “You just have to decide if you’re a Tigger or an Eeyore.”
n “When there’s an elephant in the room, introduce him.”
n “Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth.”
Randy Pausch, author, lecturer and father died on July 25, 2008, at the age of 47. He leaves behind a wife, three children and a tender legacy of love and wisdom for millions to ponder.
I hope you and your family enjoyed the Thanksgiving holiday. I came across these words from a 1934 newspaper editorial that are apropos today: “To give thanks in prosperous times may seem easy. To give thanks in difficult times may seem all but impossible. But it is never harder to give thanks at one time than at another, if the thanks be given in an understanding of God’s invariable goodness.”
Mark Derry is the editor of the Dispatch. Reach him at ed****@****ic.com.
