Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers. ~Charles W. Eliot

Sunday, June 19, 2011


Today is Father's Day. I was lucky enough to spend  the day with both my dad and my husband/the father of my children (not to mention my mom and my daughters). There's no way around it - dads and granddads are very special and deserving of a special day. Here's hoping that all of the dads we know enjoyed a fabulous day and had a chance to feel the love. And a special shout out to my father in law who celebrated both a birthday and Father's Day this weekend.

My childhood memories are filled with laughter, largely because of my dad and his awesome sense of humor. He can still bring me to tears laughing, with almost no effort at all. One of our daughters, who happens to be a natural comedienne, credits him with her funny. As I recall, my dad was more than funny - he was great fun. He was up for anything and always had a wacky hat and a song or two to match the occasion. He has always been extremely musical, to the point where he can play anything at all on the piano even though he's never taken a lesson. One of our daughters is a talented pianist and I suspect credit is due him on that count too. Above all, I am exceedingly fortunate that my childhood memories are filled with happy times of a family together and credit here goes to both my mom and dad for the haven they created. Though he has always worked exceptionally hard, my dad always made time to be with his family and, as far as my brothers and I were concerned, he was always very present. I've learned a great deal about family from my father and I love him very much. Happy Father's Dad!

At the risk of irking my younger brother Eric, who has voiced objections to his under representation in this blog in the past, my older brother's name is Mitchell and today's book pick is all him. Hallie Durand's Mitchell's License, illustrated by Tony Fucile, is a perfect before-bed book for a child who hates bedtime and a parent or caregiver who is prepared to act as that child's car, all the way to the finish line. The fact that the not-quite-4 year old is named Mitchell couldn't possibly be a coincidence because I can totally imagine my dad as the car and my Mitchell as the driver, pedal to the metal and all. Mitchell in the book is rambunctious and clever and just a little out of control. Ahhhhh... memories!

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