Reading books: I do it to relax, and to improve my mind. Sometimes these things happen at the same time. Imagine that! When I was in eighth grade I began making the transition from children's books to more "adult" fare. I started with Harlequin Romances. I thought I was SO grownup. The first one I read was about an English art student who went to Norway to work in a hotel for the summer. Of course she fell in love with owner, who was tall, blonde, and sexy. He treated her like dirt and a sex object to boot. She married him anyway. Harlequins haven't changed much, except sex happens in the first chapter instead after the book ends. From Harlequins I graduated to Barbara Cartland and "bodice rippers". In case you don't know what a "bodice ripper" is, let me explain: the big, thick, historical romances with an insanely handsome guy in a clinch with some gorgeous, half-dressed girl with long, red tresses on the covers. They have titles like, "Sweet Savage Love". My favorites were the ones about the girls who got kidnapped by handsome Indian braves. Is that sick, or what!
By age 15, I was reading classics: "Jane Eyre", "Pride and Prejudice", Dickens. And I forgot: I read "Gone With the Wind" at 13 as well. GWTW has elements of all of the above. I haven't read GWTW in years. Need to dig that one out again. At about the same time, I discovered other works of popular fiction such as "Rebecca". I have reread "Rebecca" so many times, I lost count.
My late high school years introduced me to Steinbeck. Tom Joad is my hero! When I got to college, I found Flannery O'Connor and Tolstoy. I also discovered the other great Southern writers: Capote, Eudory Welty, and Faulkner. Rather late, I finally read "To Kill a Mockingbird". It wasn't required reading when I was in school. I read it at 25, and I'm very glad I waited. I fell in love with this book in a way a child can't. It is so real! My sister is Scout, and my precious dad was Atticus.
In my 30s I made a return to selected works of popular fiction: Tom Clancy's "Hunt for Red October", John Grisham, Herman Wouk, and Rosamund Pilcher. I also discovered that Christian fiction could be good. I fell in love with Jan Karon's Mitford series. I almost hate for these books to be labeled Christian fiction, for fear that the label deters many potential readers. Most of the Christian fiction I have read is, in my opinion, substandard. Actually, most of it is terrible. I have seen improvements over the past few years. I think Jan Karon has raised the bar. It was about time Catherine Marshall's "Christy" had some company in the quality Christian fiction department.
If one is looking for Christian books that are not shallow, yet don't go over your head, check out Philip Yancy, Henri Nouwen, John Stott, C.S. Lewis, and a new kid on the block, Lauren Winner. Ms. Winner is young, but very wise beyond her years. I have enjoyed every word she has written. And if you are of a contemplative turn, you may like Susan Muto. For the scholarly among us, there is Frederick Buechner. And then there is Brennen Manning. If you want a fresh perspective on God's grace, his "Ragamuffin Gospel" is a must-read. It will change your life!
One thing I look forward to when all my school work is over with and I have a paying job is time to read again. The first book I plan to dig into is "Second Coming" by Walker Percy. I can't wait!

Sometimes they actually turn out the lights on the Great White Way. I can say I saw it in the dark! A few years back I worked a Christmas season in New York for the Salvation Army (they used to hire students to "stand kettles" (that's Army jargon for ringing the bell and saying "Merry Christmas" as you guard the red kettle). It was a pretty good gig. The Army paid your way to your city of choice (we lucky ones got New York!), paid you a couple of dollars over minimum wage to ring that little bell, provided you a place to stay, and reimbursed you for what you spent on food. You may be asking, "where do I sign up?" Sorry folks, the Army discontinued the program a couple of years after I did it.
My year was the coldest in New York since 1962. I was there for 10 days, and the temperature did not rise above 17 degrees F. the whole time. There were a couple of days the temp didn't top 10 F. There are no words to describe how cold one can get standing in front of a grocery store on Long Island, less than a mile from the North Shore, with a wind chill of -20 F. due the brisk ocean breeze blowing off Long Island Sound. I sort of forgot I had feet, because I no longer felt them after a couple of hours.
Despite the cold, I had, in the words of my dear, departed father, 'de mostest fun! on our first Sunday in town,(this is the Salvation Army--we didn't have to work on Sunday), a fellow student and bell-ringing buddy and I took a worldwind tour of Manhattan. We rode the train to Pennsylvania Station, visited every floor of Macy's, tried to have our picture made with Santa (we gave up--the line was just too long!), bought roasted chestnuts (a big disappointment: they taste awful and smell even worse!), stood in front of the Empire State Building and craned our necks upward until they ached. Then we just laid down on the sidewalk and looked up. No one paid the slightest attention to us. Remember: this was pre-Giulianni New York, when live sex shows played on 42nd Street, and Times Square was a cess pool. By this time we were hungry and found some great Chinese food. After dinner, we bought some tacky souvenirs, and arrived back at Penn Station just in time to catch our train.
I visited Manhattan again the next weekend. A guy I went to school with and was madly in love with, lived in Queens. I took the train to his house and we did Manhattan. We drove, taking the scenic route through Brooklyn. We went through Chasidic Jewish Williamsburg (by the way, Williamsburg is the new Greenwich Village. It attracts artists and poets because of the cheap rents), wound our way around to the riverfront and crossed the East River over the Brooklyn Bridge. You can barely make out the Statue of Liberty from the this vantage point. All you see
is a green, glowing tower far to your left. I just about jumped out of the car anyway. "Babycakes" laughed at me. We drove through Little Italy and Chinatown, and he showed me the famous golden bull sculpture on Wall Street in front of the Stock Exchange. I knew nothing about the stock market then, and the significance of a bull on Wall St. was lost on me. "Sweetie-pie" had a degree in business and patiently explained to me about bulls and bears. I can't believe I was so clueless! By the time we reached Rockefeller Plaza, it was after midnight and the lights had been turned out on the Christmas tree. We walked down 5th Avenue and looked in the windows of Lord and Taylor, Saks and Bergdorf Goodman. Bergdorf's window featured evening gowns that were to die for! Saks had an automated Christmas display. That year's display told the story of C.S. Lewis' "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe". I was completely charmed. We saw the Trump Tower, Lincoln Center, and Central Park West. On the way back downtown we stopped at the Plaza Hotel to see the famous wintertime ice sculptures. When we got to Broadway, the Great White Way was all black. It was so cold (about 5 degrees), hardly anyone was out and all the theatres turned out their lights. So we flew down to Battery Park to see an art exhibit based on Loony Toon characters. After spending a little time with Bugs and the Gang, we caught the Staten Island Ferry. A ride on the ferry without a vehicle is a bargain: 50 cents for a round trip. And there is no better way to see the world's most famous skyline! As we passed near the Statue of Liberty, I got a little lump in my throat. She is quite a sight. And I get one now, thinking of the view of the Twin Towers from the ferry. New Yorkers were not sentimental about the Towers then. They were just really tall buildings. After our ferry ride we were pretty cold, so we went to Schrafft's for hot chocolate. By this time it was well after two in the morning, and we had to work the next day. So "Cutie" drove me back to Long Island by way of Delancey Street and the Lower East Side, across the Williamsburg Bridge. I got home a little before four. I was at work by nine. I flew home to the Sunny (and Frigid) South on Christmas Eve. If anyone asks me if I have a favorite Christmas, I don't even have to think about my answer. This one tops them all, despite the fact I cought a killer cold that turned into bronchitis. It was worth it. In case you are wondering how my little romance turned out, he married another girl. She may have got the guy, but she didn't get to snuggle with him under a blanket and sing "People" with him at the top of her lungs on the ferry (Yeah, I know--cheesy!). I also found out that lots of New Yorkers are friendly and generous, how good a fresh-baked bagel tastes with lox and cream cheese, and that "mazel tov" is the best way to say "congratulations". I also got the best Christmas ever!