Five year anniversary for A New Yorker in Oslo

I started writing this blog in May 2010. How fast time goes. Here it is, five years later, and I'm still writing it. I don't plan on stopping any time soon. The number of readers keeps increasing, and to all of you who read what I write, I want to say thank you. I keep writing because you are reading what I write. Here are the top ten posts as of May 2015:

The poem Quantum Bloom from my poetry collection Quantum Bloom

My sister loves this poem, so I decided to share it with you. It is from my recently-published collection of poems--Quantum Bloom (http://www.amazon.com/Quantum-Bloom-Paula-Mary-Angelis/dp/1505211166). The poem was inspired by a photo I saw on Facebook of a tree stump crying (someone had drawn the tears on the stump). But it made a lasting impression on me, as well as making me sad. It got me to thinking how many trees are cut down for no reason at all, other than that a house owner wanted less shade and more sun, so the tree had to go. That happens a lot here in Oslo, unfortunately. Perhaps other places as well. The older I get, the more respect I have for the nature around us, and the more I appreciate trees, the birds that live in them, and the rest of nature. We take nature for granted, that it will always be there for us. But one day it may not be. And we will look back in regret that we did not take better care of our earth. 

Quantum bloom

A lone tree stump

Pushing its way up from the pavement

The sidewalk askew

A tree’s life ended

Because its desire to spread its roots

Was not met with understanding

But rather with a need for control

Executed through the mighty saw

A lone tree’s life ended

In this universe

But perhaps the same tree lives on

In another universe

A parallel one

Or even in multiple worlds

Far less controlling places

Where trees can spread their roots

Where their desire to bloom and grow

Is not met with the inhabitants’ desires

To crimp and to control

Lone tree standing

Firm and tall

Against the elements

Against the winds, the storms,

Against man’s non-understanding

Of what it takes to grow a tree

Of what a tree needs to call a place

Its home

Of what the birds need in the way of home

When in search of cover

In parallel universes

Perhaps trees are sovereign, supreme

Birds too

Perhaps man’s punishment for meting out death

To trees and likewise birds

Is to suffer the understanding of what it means

To destroy life

While imprisoned in a forever place of death

In multiple universes

copyright 2014  Paula M. De Angelis 

Riding with the raptors

There’s a lot to love about the new dinosaur film Jurassic World. Mostly, it doesn’t pretend to be anything more than what it is—a fun and fast-paced action film about a dinosaur theme park that bites off more than it can chew when it creates a new and better dinosaur, Indominus rex, to attract larger audiences. The new dinosaur has four different kinds of DNA in its genome, all of which have produced a cunning killer that appears to be unstoppable. Part of the fun is finding out what kind of DNA the scientists have used to create this monster. And as always in these kinds of films, scientists come off as the bad guys who can be bought, either by the paranoid military or by greedy companies or both. When you go to see these kinds of films, you know that within about thirty minutes after the start, it’s all going to go to hell, the dinosaurs are going to start eating people, and panic will ensue. And it does. Jurassic World is a dinosaur disaster film with a hero who gets to do the coolest thing I’ve seen on film so far—ride his motorcycle in the midst of the velociraptors that he’s been trying to train (with very limited success since they are cunning killers themselves). Their help is enlisted when it becomes clear that the velociraptors are perhaps the only creatures that can bring down Indominus Rex. But there is a neat twist here once the raptors meet Indominus, and I won’t give it away. The film is worth seeing, the special effects are very good, the plot is fairly predictable, the acting a bit stiff, but overall it’s a fun 3D ride. We all know that what is said is not nearly as important as what is done in these kinds of films. Action is what counts; in that regard, Chris Pratt will be a good addition to the genre for the future films. When I saw the first Jurassic Park film, and Sam Neill and the children stood watching the dinosaurs from a distance, I remember commenting to my husband that it would be so cool if humans could actually travel in the midst of the different kinds of dinosaurs, at their level if you will. In Jurassic World, they can and they do, with the help of the Gyrosphere, a computer-controlled sphere-shaped ride that has room for two people to sit in it, and that moves along the ground so that the park visitors can get a real feel for the dinosaurs. I’m looking forward to the subsequent films, although I cannot for the life of me figure out what ground the filmmakers are going to cover next. But I’m sure it will be one heck of a ride.  

Weighing in on #distractinglysexy

This past week showed me just how well female scientists can defend themselves against the sexism that still exists in the noble profession of academia. It also pointed out to me yet again the power of social media, for better or for worse, in dealing with political incorrectness. For those of you who don’t know what transpired, here’s the story. The 2001 Nobel Prize winner Sir Tim Hunt from Britain, 72 years old, opened a conference in South Korea with what he deemed to be a joke about women in science. He said essentially that girls (he did not use the word women, mind you) fall in love with you and you with them, that they distract you (men) from doing science, that they cry when criticized, and that he was in favor of single-sex labs *. Social media exploded predictably with appropriate and inappropriate responses. Hunt later apologized for his foolish remarks but not for his beliefs. Because he does believe that what he said about women is the truth. Nowadays you have to be very careful about what you say if you are in the public eye, because social media will try you and fry you for your transgressions, superficial opinions and comments. I’m not going to enter a debate about the pros and cons of social media; I leave that to others. I will say that I found the responses of a majority of female scientists to be quite amusing. Rather than going on a strident attack, they responded to the situation in a humorous fashion. I don’t know who started the hashtag #distractinglysexy, but if you go onto Twitter and search for it, you will be rewarded with a number of tweets that will leave you laughing—photos and accompanying comments of women dressed in lab coats, protective gear, goggles, hats, etc., all of whom comment on how ‘distractingly sexy’ they look while carrying out their laboratory work. They took the piss out of Hunt’s comments by doing so. That is the intelligent and cunning response.  

I have worked in laboratories all my working life. Being a scientist has been my career. I’ve done alright through the years, and as many of my readers know from other posts, I’ve had the support of male mentors who have done their level best to ensure that I succeeded, or had the same opportunities as the men around me to succeed. But there were a few men who behaved questionably toward me up through the years. I learned to deflect their sexist comments that came my way—about sitting on their laps, about the view of my rear end when I bent over, about my being ‘unbalanced’ when I shed a few tears in anger and frustration about not getting a raise I more than deserved, and about whether I planned on becoming pregnant. I am well aware that I am no exception to these kinds of comments; I grew up in an era when women were making inroads into the workforce and certain types of men found that threatening, irritating, or pointless. They needed to make women feel inferior; I remember thinking ‘their poor wives, having to put up with them’. Certain types of men still react that way. Unfortunately, I learned along the way that certain types of women also react that way. Not all women help other women in the lab. Again, we can argue for and against this fact. Should women support women unequivocally? I try to provide moral support for the younger women I work with, simply because I know how hard it is to climb the academic ladder. But I do the same with the younger men as well. Because their lot is not easy these days either; there is less money and fewer positions. It’s a dog-eat-dog world in academia, even more so than before.

This episode points out that the world NEEDS to be reminded every now and then of all of the women in science who have done terrific science, who have worked tirelessly to promote good science, who have won Nobel Prizes, some of whom have done so while raising a family. Kudos to them—to Marie Curie, Barbara McClintock, Gertrude Elion, Rosalind Franklin, Ada Lovelace, Rita Levi-Montalcini, Rachel Carson, Dian Fossey, Jane Goodall, Lise Meitner, Elizabeth Blackburn, and Dorothy Hodgkin, to name a few. I could also list the many female scientists I know internationally who plod along, doing their daily work, writing papers, publishing, and mentoring students. All of them are equal-opportunity employers and mentors; I don’t think I’ve ever heard one of them express a preference for female students or employees at the expense of men. They are not sexist. Perhaps the male twits in the scientific community could learn from and be inspired by them, and then maybe we would not have to listen to their twaddle any longer.

Apropos, I was going to call this post 'A Twit, His Twaddle, and Twitter', but opted for the current title. But I like the other one too (I'm happy with the alliteration).

*This is what Tim Hunt was reported to have said:

“Let me tell you about my trouble with girls........Three things happen when they are in the lab: You fall in love with them, they fall in love with you, and when you criticize them they cry.” After offering an apparent apology, he dug the hole he was in even deeper when he said “I did mean the part about having trouble with girls. It's terribly important that you can criticize people’s ideas without criticizing them and if they burst into tears, it means that you tend to hold back from getting at the absolute truth. Science is about nothing but getting at the truth.”

Reflections on balance and change and on the town where I grew up

It’s been a while since I’ve written a post for this blog. That’s because I’ve been traveling. I was in New York again recently to attend a wedding and to deal with certain issues connected to my brother’s death. I did a lot of walking on this trip, and had a lot of time to reflect on being there and on my life in general. These are some of my recent observations and reflections, most of them having to do with the importance of having balance in one’s life. My life now is about achieving balance.

There is a time for sadness and a time for happiness. My brother’s sudden and untimely death in February was followed by the happiness of a May wedding. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a wedding as much as I did this one. Perhaps because I needed something happy to round out the sadness I have been feeling since February. Or perhaps because this wedding really was something different—a lot of fun. Or perhaps both. Thanks and best wishes go to Andrea and Mike who love each other and are happy to share their happiness with us.  

An exceptionally warm spring in New York balanced out the cold winter it experienced. I was lucky enough to experience that warmth in New York on this trip. There is nothing like sunlight and warmth to compensate for the darkness and cold of winter, and that is true no matter where you live.

As always, when I return to the town where I grew up, Tarrytown, I realize how beautiful it is and how privileged I was to grow up there. I remember train rides into Manhattan when I was a young adult, and some of the rundown ugly areas through which the train passed. I always knew that I could return to the loveliness of my hometown.

I always remember my parents and growing up in our house when I am in Tarrytown. Yet for each year that passes, I experience so much that is new, and these experiences eventually become joyful memories. I walk around there now and experience the town as an adult, far removed from my childhood and teenage years. I will never forget my parents or my growing up, but I have new memories now that lessen the sorrow of the old, the reminders that my parents are gone and with them the life that was. The bittersweet memories of my early years have been balanced out by new and happy experiences in this lovely town. I have integrated both into the person I am now. Sadness and happiness coexist within me—side by side.

I know my way around Tarrytown, that was clear to me on this trip—the names of the streets, where to make a right or left turn if one is driving, where to find a parking space, and where to take a short cut when walking or driving. I spent one day while I was there just walking around the town, from my hotel on Route 119 down to the railroad station and then up again to Broadway through the different residential streets. I walked further on to Sleepy Hollow (formerly North Tarrytown) and all the way to the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, at which point I turned around and headed back to the hotel. I must have walked at least eight miles that day. On my way back, I visited the Warner Library and read a few newspapers in the reference room. I also took some photos for the book I am writing about growing up in Tarrytown. In the lobby, I met a Maryknoll priest who was taking photos for a book he is writing about growing up in Tarrytown. It was nice to meet a fellow wanderer. I also stopped at the Pastry Chef and enjoyed some biscotti and a cappuccino. The Pastry Chef is where my parents always bought the excellent cakes (lemon sponge cake comes to mind) that we had for the special occasions in our lives—graduations, birthdays, holidays.

I have changed, yet parts of me remain the same and will always do so. Much like Tarrytown itself. Tarrytown has changed, and yet it remains the same as I remember it from growing up in many ways. It struck me that it truly is a little slice of Americana, to be able to walk around this town and see shops and buildings that existed when I was a child, and probably long before I was born as well. And as my sister commented, the places where we hung out as teenagers are still very much the same. She and I drove around Philipse Manor and Sleepy Hollow Manor, the Lakes, and to Rockwood, where we walked for a while like we did when we were teenagers. Rockwood is still a montage of sprawling hills and flat meadows, untamed vegetation and growth, lovely old trees, gorgeous views of the Hudson River, and a sense of wildness that never leaves it. The nature of Rockwood exists for itself; it is not under man’s control and I like that. Being there frees the heart and soul. The trees are old and beautiful, and speak of a time that existed long before we were born. I like that feeling of mystery, of the unknown.

Growing vegetables and fruits in the city

Our co-op board recently approved the purchase of ‘grønnsakskasser’ to be placed in the inner yard of our co-op so that those residents who want to grow vegetables/fruits, can do so. The word grønnsakskasse is translated into English as vegetable crate, and I guess it’s as good a translation as any, except that these crates have no bottoms, only sides, and they are much more solid that supermarket vegetable crates. They are made of thick wooden slats that connect at all four corners with interweaving metal pieces that have holes in them, so that when they are lined up, a long metal pin can be inserted through them to hold them all together. Once the crates are placed where they shall stand, you fill them with a lot of earth and then plant what you want to plant.

There were two of us in our co-op who were interested in getting one crate each in order to plant vegetables, so the co-op board bought two such crates. The other woman chose a variety of vegetables (and one fruit) to plant—cabbage, brussel sprouts, lettuce, chili peppers, and melon. I chose to plant three cherry tomato plants (technically tomatoes are fruit, but often fall under the vegetable label) and parsley. And I may plant a few herbs as well, but I want to see how all of the different plants grow before I invest more money in this project. So far, the tomato plants are doing fine and we are picking cherry tomatoes each day to have with dinner. (see photos)

It was raining lightly (more of a drizzle) the day we sat out the crates and planted our vegetable plants. Both of us were in a very good mood; we didn’t mind the rain or getting wet. We found a really old metal watering can in the cellar to water the crates; it is better than most of the new plastic ones that don’t have spouts with tiny holes. I am hoping this project takes off, because I can envision planting other types of vegetables next year—cucumbers, squash, broccoli. But we’ll need more crates, and that won’t be a problem if the outcome is successful this year. So far, the birds have left the crates alone, ditto for the cats that wander through the neighborhood. I’m hoping the human animals that wander through the yard will leave the crates in peace, but you never know. We’re hoping for the best.

Eventually, our co-op may also allow the addition of balconies to some apartments, and ours will be one of those lucky enough to get a balcony. At that point, I will be on cloud nine, because then I will be able to plant even more vegetables and flours in pots on our balcony. I’m looking forward to that day. In the meantime, our vegetable crates suffice. The take-home message is that is possible to develop a ‘green thumb’ even if you live in a city apartment building. And many cities around the world have common urban gardens for apartment residents, who enjoy working and tilling their little plot of land so that it yields produce. Oslo is no different, but the waiting lists to get such a plot are long. We are on one of those lists to get a plot in a city garden not far from where we live; we applied for one in 2009 and there were one hundred people ahead of us. The organizers contacted us last year to ask if we were still interested in getting one, and we said yes. At that point, we had moved up the list and were at place number 39. So perhaps by the time we are retired, we’ll have our own little plot of land to till and enjoy. Until then, I’m happy with my vegetable crate and eventual balcony plantings.

Happy 17th of May, Norway!

May 17th is Norway's Constitution Day or Independence Day. Wishing this country a wonderful celebration. The picture is from the US Embassy in Norway Facebook page and I am sharing it with you as well.

Another song that I really like

Another new song that I like by the British group Years and Years--King.....

Our Oslo neighborhood in springtime bloom

Still a bit of a chill in the air, especially in the evenings. But during the day, when the sun shines, there is the promise of summer. Oslo is in bloom, everywhere you turn. Our backyard boasts two cherry trees, four plum trees, as well as gooseberry, black currant, and red currant bushes, all of which are starting to bloom. And our co-op recently voted to allow residents to plant vegetables in crates that will be placed along the walls of the buildings in some places, for those who would like to do that. They will not replace the beautiful flowers though. Our neighborhood at large is in full bloom also. Enjoy the photos!

beautiful forsythia

forsythia and tulips outside our door

one of the plum trees in bloom

blooming trees along the Akerselva river

a meadow of cheery yellow dandelions

blooming trees

blooming cherry trees further up the road from where we live

a lovely evergreen tree

blooming roses indoors--a gift from my husband for our wedding anniversay

a blooming orchid indoors

A recent full moon

This photo of a full moon was taken in March with my digital camera attached to my SkyWatcher telescope. I had to crop the original photo to get the moon to appear larger. Enjoy.

Quotes about dealing with difficult people and situations

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.

Carl Jung

When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion.     Dale Carnegie

Dealing with backstabbers, there was one thing I learned. They're only powerful when you got your back turned.     Eminem

A simple rule in dealing with those who are hard to get along with is to remember that this person is striving to assert his superiority; and you must deal with him from that point of view.        Alfred Adler

One of the most important things, especially when you're leaving school, is to realize you're going to be dealing with a lot of idiots. And a lot of those idiots are in charge of things, so if you're in an interview and you really want to tell the person off, don't do it.     Lewis Black

I have a respect for manners as such, they are a way of dealing with people you don't agree with or like.     Margaret Mead

My recipe for dealing with anger and frustration: set the kitchen timer for twenty minutes, cry, rant, and rave, and at the sound of the bell, simmer down and go about business as usual.      Phyllis Diller

When we label anyone 'bad', we will have more trouble dealing with him than if we could have settled for a lesser label.     William Glasser

That's what a god is. Somebody who knows more than you do about whatever you're dealing with.

Terence McKenna

You should be able to voice your opinion and respect the voice of the other side. You should be willing to educate yourself and know what it is you're dealing with.     Steve Nash

Adult life is dealing with an enormous amount of questions that don't have answers. So I let the mystery settle into my music. I don't deny anything, I don't advocate anything, I just live with it.      

Bruce Springsteen

Good leaders need a positive agenda, not just an agenda of dealing with crisis.     Michael Porter

In Praise of Non-Difficult People

We all know at least one truly difficult person in our lives (or perhaps more)—the one who leaves a train wreck in his or her wake more often than not, saunters on, leaving those around them to deal with the mayhem and/or to clean up the mess. They are the drama kings and queens of this world. I know we can all behave as difficult people sometimes; but I’m talking about those people who make it their life goal to be truly difficult, no matter what the situation. They are defiant in situations where defiance is not called for, rude or aggressive in situations where rudeness or aggression are unnecessary, and demanding and selfish in situations where to give in and to be unselfish might have been the better path. Advice is wasted on them. They do what they want, when they want. They are nearly impossible to deal with. Nothing is ever good enough for them; they are chronic complainers. They voice their opinion about everything, usually at a decibel level that drowns out other voices. They always want more, or want what the others have. Envy seems to be a big part of who they are, as well as a huge ego and a lot of self-confidence. They are somehow so special that they take offense if the world around them does not notice them and pay attention to them all the time. They’re not good at sharing the spotlight with others, or giving up the spotlight when it’s time for someone else (often younger) to step into it. They need to be the centers of attention no matter what. I believe too that they need to feel slighted in order to exist. They live their lives in fighting mode. The words compromise and listening are part of a foreign language to them.

I grew up with the false notion that difficult people were somehow more creative or gifted than non-difficult people, thus it might be worth my while to try to be more understanding of them. I don’t know where I got that idea from, perhaps from the society around me at that time that worshipped all things counter-cultural. Of course, when I was younger, it would have been difficult or nearly impossible to discover that non-difficult people were creative or gifted, because they were simply overshadowed by their difficult counterparts. So I used a lot of energy in my younger years trying to understand difficult people. Because of my understanding nature and ability to listen well, I attracted my share of them. Along the way however, I also attracted my share of non-difficult people. And it is the latter I prefer to be together with now. It is the latter who have enriched my life and inspired me. I suppose I could add that truly difficult people have inspired me as well—to not be like them.

I have learned a lot from non-difficult people. I have learned the value of compromise, of calmness in communication with others, of keeping an even tone when talking, of not flying off the handle when confronted with truly difficult people. Non-difficult people teach you from a very young age how to fit into society and how to be a valuable member of it. They teach you the value of contributing to society. That’s important because the truly difficult people are often the ones who want to dismantle the society they live in because they just know they’d be the better leaders or have the better solutions. But all they do is mostly complain rather than act. Most of the non-difficult people I admire have learned how to deal with the truly difficult people they know. Not always of course. But they have over the course of a lifetime learned to stand up for themselves in an assertive way, without clobbering or destroying the truly difficult person. They limit their interactions with them, they listen but have clear boundaries as to how much they will listen to. They have learned the art of placation, which is to say they do not hand their power over to the truly difficult people (placation is not loss of power and can often be a tactic that infuriates truly difficult people). They ignore them when necessary, deflect them when necessary—all done in a kind way. Their kindness is not weakness; it is in fact an extraordinary strength. They have a strength of character and an inner calm that inspires me. And I’ve discovered that many of them are very creative and gifted people, because I turn my head away now from those people who shout the loudest, and instead focus on those who do not. I find the latter more interesting, both in workplace situations and outside of them.  

My father's reading list from 1938

As promised, a list of some of the many books that my father read in his lifetime. His book choices continue to inspire me; I know they will do so for many years to come. In 1938, when he was twenty years old, he started to note the specific year in which he read the books he listed. These are the books he read during that year.

• The Wind from the Mountains                                   Trygve Gulbranssen
• The Deserted Village and Other Poems                    Oliver Goldsmith
• And So—Victoria                                                       Vaughan Wilkins
• American Dream                                                         Michael Foster
• The Outward Room                                                     Miller Brand
• Anna Karenina                                                             Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy
• War and Peace                                                             Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy
• The Turning Wheels                                                    Stuart Cloete
• Invasion                                                                       Maxence Van der Meersch
• Northwest Passage                                                       Kenneth Roberts
• Rogue Herries                                                              Hugh Walpole
• The Stars Look Down                                                  Albert Joseph Cronin
• The Thing: Why I Am a Catholic                                Gilbert Keith Chesterton
• Inheritance                                                                    Phyllis Bentley
• Why Rome                                                                   Selden Peabody Delany
• The Sisters                                                                    Myron Brinig
• Judith Paris                                                                   Hugh Walpole
• The Fortress                                                                  Hugh Walpole
• Vanessa                                                                         Hugh Walpole
• The Ordinary Difficulties of Everyday People            John Rathbone Oliver
• D’Annunzio                                                                  Tommaso Antongini
• Parnassus On Wheels                                                   Christopher Morley
• The Haunted Bookshop                                                Christopher Morley
• The Wall                                                                       Mary Roberts Rinehart
• The Citadel                                                                   Albert Joseph Cronin
• Jamaica Inn                                                                   Daphne du Maurier
• The Rains Came                                                            Louis Bromfield
• Opera, Front and Back                                                  H. Howard Taubman
• Wolf Solent                                                                   John Cowper Powys
• Dawn In Lyonesse                                                         Mary Ellen Chase
• Appreciation                                                                  William Lyon Phelps
• Tess of the D’Urbervilles                                              Thomas Hardy
• To Have and Have Not                                                  Ernest Hemingway
• More of My Life                                                            Andrea Majocchi, MD   
• For the Honor of the School                                          Ralph Henry Barbour
• Murders in the Rue Morgue                                          Edgar Allan Poe
• The Telltale Heart                                                         Edgar Allan Poe
• Doctor Bradley Remembers                                          Francis Brett Young
• Green Mansions                                                            William Henry Hudson
• Wuthering Heights                                                        Emily Bronte     

Reading lists and a love of books

My father was an avid reader from the time he was a young child. He kept a list of the books that he had read, and they were not few. The first book on his list was Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero by the Polish author Henryk Sienkiewicz; it was first published in 1895 in Poland as a serialized novel in several Polish newspapers. In 1896, it came out in book form and was subsequently translated into more than fifty languages (according to Wikipedia). My father would have read it in English since he did not speak Polish (he did however speak Italian, and studied Latin and Greek as well). He did not annotate his book lists, so I don’t know why he started with Quo Vadis; perhaps his father suggested this book to him. This was followed by Fortitude: Being a True and Faithful Account of the Education of an Adventurer by Hugh Walpole, published in 1913. And so on, until the last book that he read shortly before his death in 1985, which was Cal by Bernard MacLaverty, which came out in 1983. By the time he died, he had read close to a thousand books. It was not clear from his book lists when he started to keep them, but I’m guessing he started when he was around twelve years old. Since he was sixty-seven years old when he died, that means that in the space of fifty-five years of reading, he read about seventeen books per year on average. Many of the books were loaned from the Warner Public Library in Tarrytown; both my parents were frequent users of the library.

It struck me while going through my father’s book lists that he was already interested in organizing and systematizing books as a child, in preparation for his career as a librarian. He did not know that he was to become a librarian when he was twelve years old, but the signs were already there when you take a look at his lists.

Both he and my mother loved to read, and they instilled their love of books in us children. My mother did not keep extensive lists of the books she read like my father did, but both of them encouraged us to do so. So I have done so, all these years. I started keeping a list when I was around twelve years old, like my father. The first book on my list is The Hundred and One Dalmations by Dodie Smith, which was first published in 1956.

My father read widely—fiction, non-fiction, biographies, history, Catholic literature, and children’s literature. He shared what he read with me especially, since I would often sit at the dinner table with him in the evenings after dinner and discuss what he and I were reading. As I got older, we would often read the same book, sometimes at the same time, more often right after the other person had read it. We suggested books for each other; my father would cut out book reviews from the newspaper to share with me, or we would find a few books of interest in the weekly supplement The NY Times Book Review. As I get older, it strikes me that growing up in my family was a special experience. I learned to love books and to love discussing them. Nothing makes me happier than when I can sit and discuss the book I’m reading or have read with someone (I feel the same about movies). Some people would call it doing ‘post-mortems’ and don’t like to do this. In fact, most people I know don’t discuss the books they read. I respect that. We all have our own reasons for why we read and for reading the books we read. As long as the world continues to read, we’ll keep evolving and growing as human beings. That’s what is most important. But I’m glad I have my father’s reading lists, because as I peruse them, I see that we have a lot of the same tastes in literature. And that makes me feel close to him. In a future post, I will list some of the books he read as a teenager and young adult, and will include some of my own.  

Easter quotes

• The great gift of Easter is hope - Christian hope which makes us have that confidence in God, in his ultimate triumph, and in his goodness and love, which nothing can shake.   --Basil Hume
• It is difficult to say what is impossible, for the dream of yesterday is the hope of today and the reality of tomorrow.   --Robert H. Schuller
• Easter is meant to be a symbol of hope, renewal, and new life.  --Janine di Giovanni
• People respond when you tell them there is a great future in front of you, you can leave your past behind.    --Joel Osteen
• The symbolic language of the crucifixion is the death of the old paradigm; resurrection is a leap into a whole new way of thinking.   --Deepak Chopra
• A rule I have had for years is: to treat the Lord Jesus Christ as a personal friend. His is not a creed, a mere doctrine, but it is He Himself we have.   --Dwight L. Moody
• There is only one secure foundation: a genuine, deep relationship with Jesus Christ, which will carry you through any and all turmoil. No matter what storms are raging all around, you'll stand firm if you stand on His love.   --Charles Stanley
• Easter is reflecting upon suffering for one thing, but it also reflects upon Jesus and his non compliance in the face of great authority where he holds to his truth - so there's two stories there.   --Michael Leunig
• It is at Easter that Jesus is most human, and like all humans, he fails and is failed. His is not an all-powerful God, it is an all-vulnerable God.   --Michael Leunig
• We were old sinners - but when we came to Christ we are not sinners anymore.   --Joel Osteen
• I think we need to do some deep soul searching about what's important in our lives and renew our spirit and our spiritual thinking, whether it's through faith-based religion or just through loving nature or helping your fellow man.   --Louis Schwartzberg