Jonathan Livingston Seagull and Me

I became enamored with the book, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach sometime in 1971. I was a young suburban mother of three living in Bellevue, Washington. In the book was wisdom about living your best life that inspired me. A couple of years later my friend Karla told me she read in the newspaper that Richard Bach was going to barnstorm in Issaquah later that week at the small skyport there. We decided to take our kids to see him. Karla’s son was three and so was mine, my two daughters were five and six. We went to a big open field with one runway and a barn to watch Richard Bach guide his biplane to a landing and get out to greet people. There were about twenty or so people there. He looked very spiffy in his jeans, white turtleneck shirt, white scarf, and leather jacket with windblown wavey hair and a mustache.

I wanted an autograph in the worst way but in my excitement, I forgot to bring the book with me. Richard offered to give short rides in his biplane for five dollars. Karla and I looked at each other and exclaimed “Let’s do it!” There were two or three people who flew before us, so we watched as he piloted his plane through various maneuvers. I kept an eye on her son while she took a ride, and she watched my three kiddos while I went up.

When it was my turn Richard asked if I had ever been in a biplane before. “No,” was my answer. “Have you ever been seasick or airsick?” Again “No”. Would you be afraid to be upside down?” My excitement climbed. “No”. “Ok then, we’ll have fun,” he said.

The ride was short and exhilarating. We did loop de loops, barrel rolls, and zig zags. I think my entire flight lasted fifteen minutes and my heart soared. When we were back on the ground, he hopped out of the plane and helped me down. He shook my hand, and I thanked him, utterly starstruck. Then I told him I read his book but forgot to bring it for an autograph. He reached into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a piece of blue paper. He tore it in half, took out a pen, drew a picture, and signed his name. “Here,” he said. “Paste this inside the cover of your book.”

I have read and reread most of his books. I think Illusions is my favorite although when I read another it becomes my favorite. These are a few of his quotes I love best.

“When you have come to the edge of all the light you have
And step into the darkness of the unknown
Believe that one of the two will happen to you
Either you’ll find something solid to stand on
Or you’ll be taught how to fly!” ― Richard Bach

“No matter how qualified or deserving we are, we will never reach a better life until we can imagine it for ourselves and allow ourselves to have it.” ― Richard Bach

“Remember where you came from, where you’re going, and why you created this mess you got yourself into in the first place.” ― Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

“You’re never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true.” ― Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

“There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts.” ― Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

“You don’t love hatred and evil, of course. You have to practice and see the real gull, the good in every one of them, and to help them see it in themselves. That’s what I mean by love. It’s fun, when you get the knack of it.” ― Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

July in the Desert

Originally posted on A Way with Words

Saturday started in the usual way, up at 5 am as dawn cracked the horizon, then a walk through Vistoso Trails Nature Preserve, a 202-acre former golf course that backs to our property and connects with other open spaces in our town.

A rambling six-mile trail (former cart path) winds through open areas and trees offering beautiful vistas of the Catalina Mountains as well as local wildlife. Birds of all kinds chatter in the trees declaring the news of the day as we walk along. Roadrunners and rabbits skitter across the paths in a hurry to go to breakfast. Animals and humans stay a respectful distance from one another. The wildlife does not seem frightened or threatened by people passing through their home.

Yes, it is hot in southern Arizona in July, but not so hot that nature cannot be enjoyed in the early hours. We are lucky to live in this amazing environment. The trails are busy with walkers and a few bikers until about 9 am when temps start to climb and everyone retreats to air conditions homes. Monsoons are on the agenda for this month yet none have arrived. They will certainly be welcomed when they do. They bring drama to our Sonoran Desert and much needed rain.

Later in the morning, Sally and I met at our town’s newest bookshop, Stacks Book Club, a long-awaited addition to the Oro Valley Marketplace. Wow! We were impressed. The owners, Crispin and Lizzy, have done a great job creating a comfy ambiance, a gathering place. They are open from 7 am to 8 pm every day and offer a variety of coffee drinks, teas, energy drinks, beer, and wine – something for every time of day – plus an assortment of pastries and sandwiches, and BOOKS. Their opening weekend drew over 1,000 people. Crispin said it seriously reduced their inventory of books which they are busy upgrading. The bookshop is a real bonus for our community.  I’m sure they will do very well. We plan to visit often. It is a great place for a writers’ group to meet to discuss individual projects and have a cuppa.

Check out Stacks website: Stacks Book Club.

That was my day – from bobcats to books to baseball (on TV). Dodgers beat the Mets, Angels beat the Astros, and Tigers beat the Mariners. Then a happy hour hosted by our neighbors, Joyce and Rick. Perfect!

Books

Originally posted on A Way with Words blog

Painting by
Sally Rosenbaum

An accessory to being a writer is being a reader. The love of words, whether my own or those of others I admire, is part of the suit I inhabit in the world. I have a library of over 1,000 volumes, hardback and paperback, most in my writing room/library/cat boudoir. There are books in every room of the house. My husband claims every horizontal surface has books on it. I have read most, reread many. Some are on my To Be Read list that I acquired at too-good-to-miss sales at the library and elsewhere. I wonder at times if my library is a subliminal guarantee of eternity as in, I cannot die until I’ve read every book I own. I don’t think so, but it has crossed my mind.

My husband, a man of action not a reader, has come to terms with the love-me-love-my-books attitude and helped transport boxes and boxes from one abode to another over the years. He does not understand the obsession. “Why keep a book you already read?” is his repeated refrain. “Because I love them” is my reply. Even if I don’t reread an entire book, I go back to visit characters or scenes I like. I use books as references or inspiration when I write. My books have sticky notes and penciled notes in them.

I made a promise (lightly made but mostly kept) to stop adding to the library when I discovered Kindle and Audible. Now I have over 600 Kindle books and nearly the same number of audiobooks that don’t have to be moved in boxes. Two-for-one offers and Kindle free are my downfall. I discovered the digital checkout system, Libby, at the public library and use it for book club books I don’t have and don’t want to purchase. I read two or three books concurrently. The three most recent are Trinity by Leon Uris, Since Then by Sheila Bender, and Lessons in Chemistry (audio) by Bonnie Garmus. Love them all.

I discovered, because of GoodReads, another place to hoard books. It is my “Want to Read” list that feels nearly as satisfactory as a TBR list. I read a review or see books my friends read and put them on the WTR list. It’s free and doesn’t take up space in my home.

a corner of the library
A corner of the library

Once, several years ago, I decided to organize my library and get rid of books I didn’t NEED. I took every volume off my shelves and put them in the middle of the room in stacks by category. My grandson, then about four, wandered into the room where dozens of stacks reached heights nearly to his shoulder. “Wow, Grandma, you must have a million books”.  I, with the coldness of a butcher, put piles of books to be discarded in a corner of the room. Then I asked my best buddies to come over to pick through and take the ones they wanted. We packed up the remainders and I had them take them to the library or Bookman’s or Good Will or wherever they chose. I knew if I took them, I’d end up bringing a few (or many) back because I’d rethink my attachment. I don’t miss them, and I don’t think I repurchased any of them. I didn’t keep a list. My library is again disorganized because I fail to put books back in their assigned place (even with the best intention). Maybe it’s time for reorganization and purge?