Georgia's Book

Today makes the weekend extra long. In St. Louis when it snows, people simply can't function as humans. It's too bad, because I was actually looking forward to school today. I was supposed to visit the high school I'm probably going to.

But it's okay, since because the weekend was already long, we went to my grandma's and helped her rearrange her living room. We threw stuff away and cleaned out cabinets, finding a bunch of grandpa's stuff. I never knew he collected stamps so avidly. Hundreds of them, full albums.

The best thing, though, is this book grandma gave me that he bought at an auction. Crown Jewels.

It says: "Presented to Georgia, By Ma & Pa, Dec. 25th 1888." I like to think that Georgia read it many times. She fell asleep with her favorite Christmas present almost every night, except for the nights Ma came to tuck her in and gently took the book and put it on the washstand.
When Georgia had her own children, she read to them from her Christmas present. They always loved it, but when Georgia passed away, the book sat in a closet a victim of silverfish for many years. Then when someone finally found it, they obviously didn't remember it was grandma Georgia's favorite book and sold it to my papa in an auction. He took good care of it. Grandma put four-leaf clovers in it whenever she found them.

I like looking at things that are older than I am. I think it's good for perspective.

 

This leaf is from a tree that doesn't exist anymore. Just think of all this book holds that aren't words.

 

It makes me think of Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 I just finished reading. I like at the end when he meets the people that are "bums on the outside, libraries inside." I have found, people (and books) can come in all kinds of shapes.

 

I think Georgia would be happy that her Christmas present wasn't just a present for her.

 

 

If books could be happy, I think this one would be. It gets the spot next to Glinda.





Be Magnificent

I think I figured it out. That is, ahem, why everyone loves the Doctor. Why I love the Doctor. (I'm sorry, if you're not farmiliar with Doctor Who, because this is not going to make sense, but you might enjoy reading it anyway [I hope].)

He's a good man. He's just so good.

He's a Doctor. It's in the name, the name he chose. Never cowardly or cruel. Never give up. Never give in.  He's kept that promise for a thousand years. He doesn't leave the ones he loves, because he's got no where to go, just running.

And he loves everyone. He believes in everyone. There has never been a human being that wasn't important, and he loves them all. He'd sacrifice himself in an instant if it meant that he could stop a genocide or save the Earth, the Universe, all of space-time, the future, the past, a single human that thinks she doesn't matter.

Everyone loves the Doctor because he tells you that you can be magnificent, that you are magnificent. He makes you feel that way because even though he's a thousand years old, he's been protecting the Earth, the future, your future, all that time.

And he is magnificent.

(Also it might have something to do with the fact that he's hilarious and nerdy and lovable and adorable and has a freaking TARDIS. But that doesn't sound as good.)