The book gene

There were many wonderful remembrances of my dad during his funeral service. But there were two that especially touched my heart. My uncle and a brother from my parent's church shared similar stories of my dad always encouraging them to read and giving them books. I had to smile through the tears because this was so like my dad.

He loved to read, and he loved books. I always remember the growing stack and sometimes stacks of books near whichever chair he happened to chose for reading. When my parents moved from their home of over 40 years to independent living, the big question was, "What are we going to do with all these books?" I'm sure I tripled my library with the books I brought home, and I gave at least three boxes to my pastor. But we managed to pare down the many shelves to four.

When the time came for my parents to move to assisted living, the books had to be culled again. We discovered not only my dad's personal books that were never unpacked but boxes and boxes of books he had purchased to give to other people. We could sort out the duplicates for the English ones, but as for the ones in Chinese, we had to resort to trying to recognize the symbols. This was also another side of Dad. Once he found a good book, he wanted to share it with as many people as he good.

My daughter and I joke that I inherited the book gene from my dad as well as his books. I'm sure his reading habits rubbed off on me as well as his unorthodox method of storing them as I trip over the four stacks on the floor next to my bed. I am thankful to inherit his appreciation of Christian books even though we might have landed in different places theologically. I also like to think that I've inherited his love of giving books too. I've toyed with the idea of writing a book as many people have, but if that never happens (I'm not holding my breath) I can be a book matchmaker because one thing that gives me great joy is putting the right book in the hands of the right person. Just like my dad.