I'm giving somewhat serious thought to the possibility of reading a book. OK, in reality, probably only semi-serious thought. Actually more of a passing notion now that I really think about it. On second thought, I might not have time.
I haven't read a book in a while. If I remember correctly, the last one I did start and finish (after a couple of months) I really liked. It was a book about this guy named Sam who didn't like the idea of eating eggs and pork-based products that happen to be green in color. He wouldn't eat them in a box with a fox, in a house with a mouse or even on a boat with a goat. He just didn't like them. It was a nicely written piece. The author was a doctor.
These days, I just don't find the time to read. It seems like too big of a commitment. Usually, when I have tried starting a book, I look at the clock, read the first page or two, look at the clock again, check out how many pages are in the book, roughly calculate the amount of years it will take for me to finish the book (adding in time for bathroom breaks, snacks, television interruptions, summer and all months that contain the letter "r") and then I set the book down to get on with my life. Usually with snacks.
Apparently, I don't have the attention span to enjoy a good bo … Hey look! That penny is really, really shiny! That could possibly be the shiniest penny that I have ever se … oh, wait … what was I talking about? Oh yeah … apparently I have a low attention span. Anything with more words than the common mattress tag, takes me multiple sittings to get through it.
Now my wife on the other hand, is what I like to kindly refer to as a power reader. She is one of those people that when she picks up a book, she intends to not put it down until it is finished. My daughter and I know not to disturb her during these sessions. She sits there in a somewhat comatose state for hours on end, just staring, scanning the pages, flipping them every so often. She has been known to start a book early in the evening and read until the sun lights up the pre-dawn sky. During the great Harry Potter binge of a few years back, she subsisted primarily on a diet of Chicklets and Razzles. I wanted to ask when it was that she took her restroom breaks, but I was afraid of the answer that I might have gotten.
I was at my parents' house last week when I saw a book laying on the table out on the porch. It's titled "A Nice Little Place On The North Side" and was written by the famous syndicated columnist George F. Will. According to the dust jacket, it's about the history of my "hapless" Chicago Cubs and predominantly about their iconic ballpark, Wrigley Field. "Hapless" was the word the publisher used, not me. I prefer "stinky."
Since I have always been a Cubs fan and also an admirer of Wrigley Field, I was kind of interested. I asked if it was any good. Mom told me to take it home and read it. I gave her one of those, "Awww Mom! Do I have to!?!," looks that I have perfected over the years. Dad said I would really like, and that it contained many interesting items. He also suggested that I take the book with me. I slumped my shoulders, begrudgingly picked up the hardback and gave Dad one of my, "OK, if I really have to" looks. One would think that after all this time, these particular people would be much more attune to my "looks."
Well, evidently, 162 games a year of misery and torture isn't enough. I now have a compelling need to expound upon that anxiety by another 194 pages. This composition is now in my possession. It is my sincerest desire at this particular moment in time, to completely read and possibly enjoy this entire printed volume. I have been warned that it contains big words, so I'm already leery.
I will warn you, if there is not at least one chapter devoted to 1970's-era, Chicago Cub outfielder Jose Cardenal and his huge afro, I am going to be soooooooooo upset. (You can tell how angry I'll be by the inordinate amount of o's.)
His exclusion from this opus could very likely cause my newly-inflamed passion for reading to come to an abrupt conclusion. No, I will not like it Sam-I-am.
Just like the last book I read, and as a lifelong Cubs fan, I'm afraid this book will also make mention of a goat. Or at least Steve Bartman.
You can contact Wallace at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can follow him on his blog at http://gregwallaceink.blogspot.com.