David McCullough's 1776 is a fascinating account of the beginning of America's battle for independence. I had been almostwanting (that's a word) to read it for a number of years, but other things (boys) rightfully occupied most of my time, energy, and interests. David McCullough's command of history I knew to be legendary and his writing to be effective. Such knowledge encouraged simultaneous desire and avoidance of his 1776.
Avoidance. Good books can hold such a sway over my mind that I have a difficult time concentrating on other tasks. When in the midst of an intellectual journey of this sort, it is nearly impossible for me to exit the path --even temporarily. I will forgo sleep, nutrition, family, socialization, responsibility and most any other need or interest in the name of a good book. This, I admit no less shamefully than I do candidly.
The library's semi-annual book sale in April produced a $3 copy, which PTB purchased with his funky wife in mind. Predictably, I skipped meals, sleep, showers, and quality time with my children to fly through the year 1776. It was an inspiring journey; one that pricked my emotions, elevated my appreciation for those who came before, and allowed me to marvel at irrefutable evidence of divine intervention.
The intention for today was to tell about my current literary indulgence, but I wrote more prelude than I had planned (which was supposed to be, "McCullough's 1776 was engaging"). So I'll just call this adequate for today, because a good book is calling my name and nap time will soon expire.
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