People are sometimes surprised when I say I've never read an e-book.
That I keep every book I've read. That I sign and date them all too.
Don't they take up a lot of space? All that dust? Isn't that materialistic? This is 2020, man, get with the times.
When my dad died in 2000, I inherited his books. I was 27. I'd probably read fewer than 50 books in my life at that time.
I was a late bloomer.
As I sifted through hundreds and hundreds of my dad's books I kept a few hundred that looked interesting. Yes, I judged the books by their covers (and maybe the blurb on the back).
I was just starting my lifelong commitment to evolving my consciousness, and reading was a major part of that.
I soon realized that he had signed and dated every book he read.
March 19, 1970. Before I was born.
September 9, 1977. I was four.
April 21, 1995. I was in college.
Surely he was chronicling his life through the books he read – reading this book when that event happened.
I liked that idea, and started doing the same. I'll often pick up a book, look at the date, and smile at a memory.
In September it will be twenty years since my dad died. My basement is filled with books, I have no idea how many.
Chronicling my life. And keeping the memory of my father alive.