Sometimes the marks of a book's
influence are obvious. Like the 1982 19th printing of Sunset
Favorite Recipes my wife used
Thanksgiving morning.
Nearly
thirty years ago, when we were newlyweds, my parents had given us the
book. Now the covers are held together with tape, the corners are
frayed, and the pages are covered with thirty years of spills from
helping feed four generations of family and countless guests around
our table.
As the
Christmas season begins, I think of two other gifts of milestone
books. Though less worn, they influenced me deeply.
Christmas
morning when I was ten, I unwrapped a hardcover edition of Kon-Tiki
by Thor Heyerdal. Through multiple re-readings, this epic true
adventure baptized my imagination with the power of narrative
nonfiction—and awakened the idea that someday I might also write.
Christmas
morning three years later, I unwrapped another hardcover treasure:
the current Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary. It
contained nearly every word I'd need through high school, college,
seminary, and my work as a professional writer. In the past decade
I've replaced it with a more recent edition, but the tradition
remains unbroken. (With its thumb tabs, I find it as easy to use as
an online dictionary. But more dangerous, as each page is filled with
distracting readings about other words.)
No
wonder that when I think of giving a lasting gift, I often think of
books.
