BetweenTheWords

“I well remember how sure I was of myself when I was in my teens. I’m not critical of teens today.”

Loretta Young (American Actress, 1913-2000)

Today’s exercise is to write about someone by becoming the other person and it is a coincidence because just this morning, at about 8:00 a.m., I jotted down an idea that popped into my head as I watched my middle daughter get ready to leave for her unpaid internship:  “the reluctant adult.”  It is a jump over a tremendous chasm, the jump from independent teen to becoming a member of the adult working world, and there is a lot to contend with.  Being a teen allows one to sleep through the morning and into mid-afternoon as the sun forces it’s way between the blinds or between small slices of shutters.  No one expects a teen to get up early, or for that matter, to talk, much before noon.  So it is almost a crime against nature for a 20 something, barely out of the luxurious teen bubble, to accept the responsibility of waking to an alarm, forcing a small amount of nourishment down, packing (yes, packing, because with an unpaid internship comes the realization that spending money to eat lunch out really does not make a lot of sense) lunch, and facing the morning commute.

The reluctant adult gives up the days of sunning, shopping and lunching with friends funded by a part time retail job in a store with ear-splitting music and air perfumed with the scents for sale.  The reluctant adult realizes that by 11:00 p.m. one who works all day is actually tired, and needs to sleep in order to get up with tomorrow’s alarm.  The reluctant adult is thrilled that it is Wednesday, with Friday in view.  Though the reluctant adult is slowly learning how to function in the adult world, the summer evenings still beckon and the weekends hold the promise of a chance to slip back to the carefree days, if only for a few short hours.

Ex Libris is a Latin phrase, meaning literally, “from books.” It is often used to indicate ownership of a book, as in from the books of… or from the library of…

The writing exercise is to reach into a drawer and use whatever you first touch as the impetus for writing so I reach into the drawer of my mother’s beautiful old roll-top desk and grab the shiny gold box of bookplates, one of four.  I open the box and read the phrase.  I don’t remember these though I remember the ones with the antique map of the world and those with the small fairy, given to me years ago, but this phrase, what does it mean? I look it up, Google of course, and read the definition.  Ahhh, of course!  “From books.” how appropriate as I sit here, surrounded by books, sorting through books and treasuring them.

How can I have five books going at once?  I start one, a self-help type of book and I really enjoy it, but then that novel is calling and I want a little escape, until I see the philosophy book offering deep thoughts and lessons to ponder…. but then The Last Lecture, how profound, every chapter a great lesson from one who has learned so much upon reflecting on life from the edge.  Then of course, the books about writing-my muses, my inspiration and the setting for my new writing office. They are props meant to inspire, and they do.

My mother was the one who started the tradition of “from the books” as a book lover spreading the disease to me.  I feel a physical connection to certain books and love them like children.  The stories from the depths of childhood, the novels that sustained me through those teen years and the books of interest:  Los Angeles, cultural Judaism, and politics.  The books of dreams:  gardening, decorating, exotic cooking books (binding in tact) and promises of an enticingly improved life. Advice books rest in groups on the shelves filled with someone’s good ideas and my hopes for an easier path.  My mother taught me that being surrounded by books was to live in a nest of knowledge so home is a room with high book cases, tables stacked with books, books waiting beside my bed and the books I keep in the car, just in case I end up stuck waiting somewhere.

The new electronic book carriers are amazing, holding 200+ books and containing the ability to instantaneously order others.  Books on tape offer a dramatic presentation often acted or read by the author, which is handy if you are stuck in traffic, but there is just something about the smell of a book, the feel of the pages in your hand and opening up the book for the first time, reading the book jacket, the acknowledgements and hoping for a picture of the author and perhaps a little bio.

There is something about seeing a bookmark peeking out of the top of a book, beckoning me to open it up and pick up where I left off.  Come back, continue the journey, think, learn something, and drift off.

I am my mother’s daughter, Ex Libris.

The urge to write has been hiding in the recesses of my mind for years and excuses to avoid the inevitable first step, of sitting down to write the first page (or in this case, blog) have been rampant.  I have arrived at the decision that it is time I took the reins and made the commitment to complete what I have started so often but being a little apprehensive, I decided that I would start writing with the inspiration of The Observation Deck:  A Tool Kit for Writers by Naomi Epel with the hope that these little motivational idea cards will give me the catalyst I need to take the leap into the writing world.  I welcome you to accompany me on this journey.

Comments are welcome!