In addition to contemplating the demise of my Twitter account, I have another potential catastrophe to consider. My son, Peter, who is becoming a great lover of the culture of the 1960’s and 1970’s, has told me now that he absolutely must have a copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull.
I have no idea how do deal with this request as a parent.
I did obtain a copy of that book when it was first published when I was in high school. I read it and re-read it at a steady and regular pace. Looking back on that now, I’m not sure that I can give an adequate reason for that. It was my main book during the very earliest part of my life in high school. Later, it was replaced by Walden and The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. That’s not a logical sequence of books, but I can only tell it like it happened.
Tomorrow is Peter’s birthday, and he is vaguely hoping for a copy of JLS. It’s too late to get a copy through Amazon, and I am a tad bit unwilling to head out in the morning to climb through the dusty shelves of used book stores.
There is always my own original copy of the book, you would think, but my mother threw it out a long time ago, along with all of the other stuff that she told me she didn’t throw out, but which were mysteriously missing anyway.
white pebble 