THE SECRET LIBRARIES

The maturity my father had when he was in his thirties is something that even now I cannot manage. He had spent three years getting shot at by German anti-aircraft guns, and been in the merchant marine up and down the American Pacific coasts, before becoming an aeronautical engineer.

A few years after that, I was born.

He always seemed impossibly wise and rational, and throughout his life he read and absorbed knowledge. His mind was ever active, and open to new things. When I visited him before he died, there were volumes on his bookshelves that surprised me. Subjects that I had never known that he was interested in. New enchantments, next to the familiar material I remembered from years before.


I still wonder what happened to the Engineering and chemistry reference books in which I looked up gun cotton, trinitro-toluol, picric acid, diacetylmorphine, tannic acid, siccatives ...


I am "mature" now, but I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Other than surrounded by books and pipes, which I already am.
If you want a safe place to quietly read while munching on apples, I am your man. If you like, I'll provide tea. Heck, I'll provide tea even if you don't ask, because tea is a very great good.

On the other hand, if you want an rugged adventurous type to raft down the Amazon with, or who will accompany you while you trek Nepal, climb up Everest, and write a life-changing book about nursing tribals back to health by means of homeopathic remedies, deep in a malarial jungle, you really need to keep looking.
I am not your type. And I hate "adventurous people looking for a like-minded and supportive co-equal", because that almost always means they're not willing to act rational, quiet down, and grow up.

People like that want someone who will help them pay for their lack of responsibility, and tolerate their life-long quest to find themselves while being artistic and free. And infuriating.


BRING SUGAR, COFFEE, ASPIRIN, AND SNACKS!

I've been to places where malaria and typhoid fever are endemic, and I've been to remarkably cold places too. Trust me, what really sets those far places apart is not the unspoiled and inspiring wildness, alleged remarkable cultural wealth, or exotic surroundings, but the fact that they are more than somewhat uncomfortable, and books are a rarity, hard to find.
As well as clean water. That is also rare.

Good god, the rough parts of the world are virtually illiterate, and altogether rife with disease or parasites! Get your pansy-ass pretentiousness back to the first world, pronto!

The natives do not want homeopathy, they want medicine that works.
They also want batteries, temperature control, and bullets.
Those are what makes California bearable.

Unspoiled nature is usually rotten, fermenting, or completely fried up.

Even here in California; bears, snakes, poison ivy.

Mosquitoes, chiggers, and parolees.

Mojave, Death Valley, and LA.

Siskiyou. Mokulumne.

The East Bay.



The concept of getting away from regular electricity and reliable water service -- hiking in one hundred plus degree heat through cogon grass, for instance, or snowboarding down a snow-covered mountain at breakneck speed -- is not very appealing. Finding a new museum of trade goods from the sixteenth century, a massive collection of butterflies in perfect condition, or a gallery of tribal masks and fétiches, however, might be the perfect way to spend an afternoon. Or three to four hours a day, several days, before heading to a nearby establishment for the local fried specialty.

Consider quietly browsing through someone else's bookshelves, and finding something fascinating that you had not seen before.
Then reading it. Or most of it.

Coming back another day to continue where you had left off.
And finding the bookmark exactly where you left it.

The book collections of people who really like to read are quite intriguing, and far better than actually socializing.


When I was growing up, every vacation involved shlepping along at least one suitcase filled with new books. Since then, the best trips far afield always meant the acquisition of more reading material.

London, Paris, and Amsterdam have lovely bookstores.




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