Button Sunday


There’s something about reading in summer that’s fun in a unique way. Maybe it’s a holdover from childhood’s summer reading challenges or the memory of visits from the bookmobile that I looked forward to way more than the ice cream truck.

What’s on your reading list this summer?

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21 thoughts on “Button Sunday”

  1. Like your new Happy Days posts. As to reading, this week I finally caved in and removed 100+ completed books from my Kindle leaving me with 160 books yet to read. Yes, the removed books are up on the CLOUD should I ever need to recall any of them

    1. I’m glad you’re enjoying the posts. They’re fun to do; it’s always easy for me to find a reason to be happy, and it’ll take me through a busy summer. Hopefully I’ll find things to write about, too!

  2. Ahh, the bookmobile. I don’t think we ever had one around–the town was small enough, if you wanted a book just go to the library. Are bookmobiles still around?

    1. I don’t know. I hope so. That was such a favorite thing as a kid. I can still remember the smell of those books and how good the AC felt on sizzling Georgia days.

  3. I remember how excited I got when it was the day for the book mobile. So many books and so little time. Even though none of my children are avid readers like we were I have several grandchildren who love to read. It does my heart good when they come over and bring their current book.

    1. Nothing makes me happier than seeing kids who’re excited about reading.

      I remember times when every one of us would be reading somewhere in the house, and sometimes at the table (though not at dinner). I could never read in the car, though, like David could.

  4. I have never been in a bookmobile in my life. I grew up in the city of Saint Louis where every neighborhood had a branch of the library within walking distance of where you lived. My highschool was also located across the street from the Kingshighway Branch of the library. Also my younger brother worked at the main downtown central library after school. So I got guided tours from him of the stacks and research facilities. When the family moved from the city to the burbs, we were in walking distance of the north county branch of the County Library. So every other Saturday I would walk to the library and pick up two books for myself (Bradbury, Heinlain, H Allen Smith or Wodehouse) and two westerns for my father. BTW, last week I listed RPM as my charity of choice on Amazon Smile.

    1. Thank you so much on RPM’s behalf for the Amazon Smile charity selection! My gift card was to Amazon, as well, so even though I don’t normally shop through Amazon for books, it was nice to know the purchases I made were benefitting RPM.

      You were lucky to have all that library richness so close. I do remember going to public libraries as a kid, but I don’t think they were ever so convenient. I definitely made full use of my school libraries, and when I went to the campus library at Alabama, I was able to read tons of additional books by authors whose books I’d first read from my parents’ shelves. There’s a library branch not too far from me where someone I know works. I’ve been thinking it might be a good place to write on my laptop.

  5. Since nobody listed any of their special titles, I’ll share the three I’m currently reading:
    1. No Ordinary Time by Doris Kearns Goodwin
    2. 11-22-63 by Stephen King
    3. The Jew Store by Stella Suberman – When I saw this title in B & N, I didn’t know whether the book was offensive or intriguing. I bought it because I wanted to find out. I was talking to some old-timers here in one of my study groups and found out “the Jew stores” were a real thing here in the southeast. They were usually small dry goods stores and there was usually one in most towns of any size. They didn’t try to compete with the stores selling large dry goods but catered to lower income whites and African-Americans from the other side of the tracks. Even HSV had one and that’s what they called it back in the days, “The Jew Store” even though it had a name, usually of the proprietor. The book is a family memoir by the author, the daughter, whose father moved them, newly immigrated from eastern Europe where he fled the Cossacks to New York City. From there Jewish men with merchant experience migrated all over and joined their purchasing power together to make a better living for their families by opening stores even in towns with no synagogues and a very small Jewish population, if any. Glad I bought it, though I need a Yiddish dictionary when the author forgets to translate.

    1. I was ashamed to list mine … as there is one embarassing thing on there … but I will go with it

      Travels With Charlie
      The 13th Tale ( reread )
      Lavender Lies ( no judging! )
      Rebel’s Desire ( did you just roll your eyes?)
      and currently reading … Bellman & Black

      1. Though I can’t speak for everyone, it’s my sincere intention not to judge anyone’s reading choices. I always say there’s a reader for every book, and I’ve read many that earned me derision–and I don’t care! I’d read a description of Bellman & Black recently and immediately thought that it sounded right up your alley! A dark and macabre alley where you’d have a lot of fun.

    2. Thanks for the list–I’m familiar with Doris Kearns Goodwin from interviews, but I’m not sure I’ve read any of her books. Interesting to consider Kearns as historian and King’s book as being creative with history–in the context of that old saying, “History belongs to those who write it.”

      I like the summary of Suberman’s book–it received good reviews, too.

      1. For what it’s worth, Doris Kearns Goodwin’s best effort (in my humble opinion) is “Team of Rivals,” followed very closely by “Wait Till Next Year,” a baseball book. She and I share a love for the sport and a love for the Dodgers; hers from Brooklyn, mine from L. A. Baseball was my favorite and best sport. My self-opinioned, superb baseball talent in high school went unrewarded by Coach Rat because I was, in his words, “a smart ass.” He couldn’t recognize baseball talent if a line-drive hit him in his ball bag. Maybe I was a smart-ass (Okay, I WAS a smart-ass); but I was a smart-ass who could play baseball. Heck, we played it 12 months a year growing up in SoCal. If I sound resentful it’s only because I am. There. I feel better.

        1. Bah. Most of those coaches were smartasses themselves. If you mean the one I think, wasn’t his entire background basketball–including genetically? I guess all the coaches had to do everything, but it’s too bad there wasn’t a gifted baseball coach among them to have made good use of your talent–you’d have been too happy to be a smartass then. Well, maybe not… But you’d have been a baseball-playing smartass with no cause for bitterness today!

          1. Bitter? Me, bitter? Well, maybe a little. But I think it cuts both ways. A few years back I went home for my nephew’s wedding. Coach Rat’s (yes, guessed correctly) son was in the wedding party. I bumped into Coach Rat, said, “Hey,” called him by his first name, and extended my hand. You’ve heard the saying, “If looks could kill…” He brushed past and, if looks could kill, the look he gave me would have wiped out a whole neighborhood.

            1. How sad for him that he couldn’t be a bigger person. That’s a long time for a teacher to hold a grudge against a former student. Imagine if there are more students he disliked–who wants to carry around that much baggage?

              On the plus side, this discussion drove me in a roundabout way to look at the Alabama High School Athletic Association Hall of Fame, so I got lots of new names for RPM’s pet name database. =)

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