Illustrated Dictionary of Sailing

My most recent acquisition is on my bookshelf (or porch table) at our summer home in Lakeside, OH. This is my husband's third summer of sailing--I won lessons with my apple pie, and he used them since I wasn't interested. I was walking home from the grocery store on Sunday and saw a box of free books in a neighbor's yard. It was authored by Jane Daniels and published in 1989 by Michael Friedman Publishing Group, but this book in hand is an imprint of Gallery Books and the verso of the t.p. says "available for bulk purchase for sales promotions and premium use." Terms are alphabetized with little anecdotes about sailing, and there are over 200 illustrations. Many in color. Great price.

A Book of Prayers for Boys and Girls

This little (5.5" x 4") book was purchased at the Acorn Used Book Store in Grandview and was published here in Columbus by Wartburg Press in 1943. Wartburg was one of the early names of Augsburg Press, which is now Augsburg-Fortress, reflecting a merger in 1988 of The American Lutheran Church and the Lutheran Church in America for form ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church of America). My children were grown by the time I bought this, so I probably bought it because of its local ties. I could use any of these prayers myself by adjusting the "thees, thous and hasts."

The Foreword says, "Your heavenly Father loves you and wishes to give you every blessing. But He wants you to talk to Him, to tell Him all your wants and hopes and sorrows: He wants you to pray to Him. . . Just in case little Lutherans didn't know what to say, this child size book has prayers for just about all situations and special days. Lots of morning prayers and evening prayers. Here's a sweet one.

Now the day's done,
For down is the sun
And angels are lighting
The stars one by one.

O Father, I pray:
Send an angel my way
To watch at my bed
Till the dawn of the day. Amen.

I don't recall giving thanks on my birthday, but then I wasn't a very religious kid. Here's a birthday prayer, which would make much more sense to me today than when I was 8 or 10:

Dear Father in heaven, out of Thy hand my life has come. For this gift do I thank Thee most heartily on my birthday. I pray Thee so to guide me by Thy Holy Spirit that from year to year I may learn to know Thee better and to thank Thee more heartily for Thy goodness. And may every added year, O Father, find me ever more ready to do Thy holy will. In His name do I pray who for me and for all Thy children died upon the cross so that we might rise from the grave and live with Thee forever. Amen.

I found a photo on the internet (a post card) of the old Wartburg Press building, which is where the Augsburg book store was in the 80s. I used to go there to buy books for the church library.

The Art of Reading Scripture

From the church library free box I selected "The art of reading scripture," (Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2003). The librarian puts withdrawals or donations not needed for members to take home. The Eerdmans title is a compilation of essays by scholars.

I took it to the coffee shop the next day and enjoyed the essay, "Reading scripture in light of the Resurrection" by Richard B. Hays, pp. 216-238. It confirmed what I've often thought. We need to hear about the Resurrection all year long, not just at Easter. I think it may be the most under-preached and under-discussed topic in Christian churches.

"Many preachers and New Testament scholars are unwitting partisans of the Sadducees. Because they deny the truth of Scripture's proclamation that God raised Jesus from the dead--or waffle about it--they leave the church in a state of uncertainty, lacking confidence in its mission, knowing neither the Scriptures nor the power of God." I've never heard a better description of why so many Mainline protestant churches are struggling to find an audience and a message!

I haven't attended a liberal church in 30 years, yet I think we evangelicals don't hear this message often enough. He specifically points out three texts, John 2:13-22 with Psalm 69, the identification between the temple and Jesus' own body; Mark 12:18-27 where Jesus goes to the heart of God's self-revelation in the Old Testament; and Luke 24:13-35 where Jesus opens the scriptures to his followers after the resurrection and points them to the prophets.

Hays then goes on to list nine implications of reading Scripture in light of the Resurrection, and points out again that most New Testament scholars are not believers--but would be if they'd open their eyes and hearts to reading Scripture this way.

I love it when someone agrees with me, don't you?

Bruce

This is a photo of me standing in front of the bookshelves that hold old books and family memorabilia. Behind me are lots of old books from four generations. They look like they have fancy bindings, but books of my grandparents' era had a lot of chemicals in the paper, and disintegrate easily. Like me, they bought for value, not for quality. I think it is funny that I saved a book from my childhood called "Bruce" about a collie, written by Albert Payson Terhune (Grosset & Dunlap, 1920), never imagining someday it would be my name.

The shiny white, blue and green box on the far left of the 5th shelf contained a card catalog of my grandparents' library, assembled by several members of the family when they were closing up their home after their deaths in the 1960s. This list of books, found by me in the late 1980s, launched several publishing projects, including a spin off into agricultural magazines used by farm families in the early 20th century and women who wrote for Ohio farm magazines in the 19th century.

You can barely see the top shelf, but that holds children's books, some old, some from my childhood--mostly horse stores--and some I purchased because I liked the illustrations (from the days when I wanted to write a children's book). I've done some rearranging of my magazine collection on the lower 2 shelves (premiere issue collection), but these shelves stay pretty much the same.

"From a fuzzy and adventurous fluff-ball of gray-gold-and-white fur, Bruce swiftly developed into a lanky giant. He was almost as large again as is the average collie pup of his age; but, big as he was, his legs and feet and head were huge, out of all proportion to the rest of him. . . seemed totally lacking in sense, as well as in bodily coordination. He was forever getting into needless trouble. He was a storm-center. No one but a born fool--canine or human--could possible have caused one-tenth as much bother."

With that, we know this dog has to turn out to be a hero, right? Wins a medal for bravery in WWI.

Wayne Public Library in Wayne, NJ, has the Albert Payson Terhune Collection with photos of Terhune and his collies of Sunnybank, known as The Place in the book.

My Town: Remembering Mt. Morris

Donald L. Smith does a nice job of weaving together his family and personal memories with the town's considerable history, even mentioning some sources I've never seen, like Kable Brothers Company, 1898-1948, and the late-1980s Memoirs of H.A. Hoff, the school superintendent, both of which I assume are on someone else's bookshelf. There's a few personal family things I think could have gone unsaid out of respect for his parents' memory, but that would just be my own preference as a mother. Don Smith taught journalism at Penn State, State College, PA for 33 years and began writing this title about 10 years before he published it in 1997. My copy was a gift from my sister.

"Mt. Morris has been more cosmopolitan than its size alone would dictate, partly because of the presence of the seminary and then the college but largely because of influences associated with the publishing trade. Printing is an inherently literate business; and Kable's emphasis on magazines--rather than wallpaper, food cartons, or oilcloth--meant that editors from Chicago and other cultural centers regularly visited the Mount on business. Similarly, management people from Kable's, as well as Watt and Kable News, often visited major cities on business. All these contacts with the outside world helped create a small oasis of sophistication amongst the corn and soybean fields. . .

One of my classmates [class of 1946] followed his father and his father's father there [Kable's], and the tradition was extended into the fourth generation when both of his sons joined the printing company's ranks. . . Mt. Morris attached considerable important to intellectual and cultural concerns as reflected in the excellence of the schools, the public library, and the town's near-professional concert band. . . few homes were in disrepair, and there was no real slum or shantytown. Most residences were handsomely landscaped one-and-a-half or two-story structures, and a certain amount of house-and-garden one-upmanship and peer pressure kept even sluggards in line. . . [there being] generally no substantial difference between the home of top Kable executive and that of a pressman."

Pine Creek Recollections Revisited

My grandparents were tenant farmers in an area south of Mt. Morris, near Dixon, Illinois called, Pine Creek. This book is one of several I have about towns or areas in Ogle County. The author is Jane Shoemaker, and although I don't know her well, I remember her stopping by after the death of my mother in 2000 to visit. The book was a gift from Ruth Balluff, who also grew up in Pine Creek, and attended school with my Dad.

"This book describes life during the 20th Century in a small area of northern Illinois, Pine Creek Township. Although it tells about life in a small area of Ogle County, it should not be considered just a book of local interest. Within these pages is a description of rural and small town life that honed and defined the generation of people who parented, nurtured, and shaped the Greatest Generation, as was defined later by Tom Brokaw, in his book with the same name. The harsh realities of life during the early 1900s, that finally led to prosperity after the world's largest depression, shows a stamina and grit in those who lived it, that still holds us in awe. My Mother, Lela Mae Feary Stomberg, lived in this incredible century. She was born on October 13, 1901, on the Pine Creek Farm, nestled between a winding creek and a dirt road, in rural Ogle County. A few years ago, I sat down with her with a small tape recorder. We conducted an oral history of her life. She has remarkable recall especially for details in her early years. After many sessions together, we had three tapes full of her remembrances." From the Prologue by Jane Shoemaker. (Mt. Morris, IL: Pinecone Productions, 2001)

When I die, what will happen to my bookshelves?

I've written this poem for our daughter, who is our Executor. Still, you can't control what other people do, and I know that, so it's important to sift, sort and give away. My mother, aunt and grandmother all fussed about their books and memorabilia. Now I have them, and I'm worrying about them. Today I put grandma's dishes out to use for Sunday dinner tomorrow.

To my daughter, about my treasures
August 29, 2005

I want you to have our paintings,
of flowers, children, boats and trees.
You’ll sit back and admire I know,
closing your eyes in a squint
to see the artist’s true intent.

I want you to have the books,
Bibles, histories, poetry and lit.
You’ll treat them well I know,
opening them from time to time
so their wisdom doesn’t go stale.

I want you to have the china,
silver, pottery, and goblets.
You’ll dine with them I know,
setting a lovely white linen table
as you continue the traditions.

I want you to have Aunt Martha’s quilts,
pieced and stitched by lantern light.
You’ll fold, touch and smooth I know,
positioning them on wooden racks
to display her detailed handiwork.

I want you to have the photographs,
albums from way back when.
You’ll wonder at your folks I know,
dancing and partying with their friends
when the whole world was young.

I want you to have Mom’s recipes,
sewing chest and maple suite.
You’ll puzzle where I know,
shifting and rearranging like I did
until they are welcomed in your home.

I want you to have our calico cat,
kitty toys, bowls and love.
You’ll feed, pet and groom I know,
holding her close at night
until she leaves to join us.

All the rest just haul away,
the auctioneer’s close, up the road.
You’ll get a good price I know,
banking the rest for a sunny day,
after you lock the door.

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