I often still read to my son. Yes, he’s eighteen and doesn’t need a bedtime story any more. At least, not one I’d read to him. But I read his history articles and books to him, since his learning disability makes that too time-consuming. He’s in a history seminar about Hitler and Stalin. We’re starting first with Stalin.
I think I’m more interested in the history than Peter is, sometimes. The same stuff keeps happening over and over again… Stalin does a Bad Thing, Stalin frames someone else for the Bad Thing, Stalin watches as someone else gets it in the teeth for having allegedly done the Bad Thing. I tell Peter that, well, this is history. People repeat themselves, so history does too.
We’re only up to the year 1904 in the biography, and he’s not even called Stalin yet, but I’m in dire need of some cheering up.
white pebble 