Books I Have Read II

      The short days of the year have arrived.  Thanks to electric lights, a person can sit and read a book after it gets dark before 5 p.m.

      The most modern book I have read is Hidden figures.  I haven’t seen the movie, but I understand that the book and the film are pretty close.  Not only does the story give the black women their just desserts for their part in the World War II effort and the space race, it is a pleasant reminder for those of us for whom the story was current events and not history, of the good old days when things were simple (not). 

      You get a good look at the development of computers, tube machines that took up entire floors of a building, with coolers necessary to keep the thing from overheating, that began to replace the human computers, as they were called.  The ladies used adding machines at first, and were themselves the computers.

     The book reminds you of the shock Sputnik created in the USA, of the ramp up to try to catch up and surpass the Soviet Union in the space race.  You get a good review of all the astronauts culminating in the moonwalks.

   Of course, segregation plays a major role in the women’s stories.  What reader will not feel a sense of shame as the story of what the black women contributed to their country and how they were treated unfolds?

     The oldest book I have read recently is Chris Berg’s biography of Charles Lindbergh.  He must have been born under an influential star.  He remained  an icon in the public’s eye throughout his lifetime, though not always in a favorable light. 

      After his historic flight from New York to Paris, he went on to become an ambassador for aviation to the world.  His marriage and the kidnapping and murder of his oldest son drove him to try to avoid the limelight.    

      He fell into disfavor during World War II because he sang the praises of Nazi Germany as they advanced the cause of aviation beyond other nations during their buildup to the War.  He was not loved by the Roosevelt administration.

     He was shunned as an advisor to the Army Airforce, but he continued to function as a test pilot, actually flying into combat in the war in the Pacific, where he downed a Japanese pilot, an event that troubled him for the rest of his life.

      His career spanned the birth of aviation to the space age.  He was a farmer, an inventor, a scientist, and a traveler.  In his later years, he worried about the effects of modernity on the natural world.  He spent a lot of time in Africa and got involved in the attempt to protect threatened animals.  He was an interesting character.

     My favorite book in the past year was The Meadow by James Galvin.  The meadow referred to in the title is in the front range of mountains near the Colorado-Wyoming border. The “story” involves the folks who owned and resided in the meadow, a place nearly inaccessible during the winters.

     Galvin is a poet.  His first-person narrative chronicles the lives of basically three people who would probably be considered somewhat unremarkable except for Galvin’s tale.  One character grew up in the area and was one of the occupants of the meadow.  His father fell in love with the place during an overnight stay under unfortunate circumstances with his rather cruel father.  App purchased the meadow but lost it when his two wives fell ill and the medical expenses bankrupted him.

     He and his three boys had to leave.  They “homesteaded” a no-man’s land which neither Wyoming nor Colorado claimed.  One son returned to the area after a career as a plasterer in Denver and Laramie.  He worked for a water company that provided him a house and equipment necessary to keep an eye on the ditches and reservoir, even in winter. 

       An alcoholic, Ray froze to death while relieving himself during an attempt to find a refuge when caught out in a storm.

     The main character, Lyle, began his life near Flagler, Colorado where his parents homesteaded.  After his father abandoned the family, his mother moved them all to Boulder.  A thrifty woman, the family unit stuck together and saved enough money from their various occupations to buy the meadow at the beginning of the depression.  Due to their thrifty ways, they made it through the depression.

     Lyle never left the meadow, surviving his two older brothers who died in plane crashes, one in World War II, the other crop dusting in Texas, and his sister (suicide), and his mother.  Lyle was a genius who built his own forge.  He then made his own tools and could manufacture nearly anything he needed.

      He expanded the original log cabin, including running water with indoor plumbing.  He built his own barn with logs cut and fitted without power tools.  He built many structures for his neighbors.  He kept the meadow hayed and irrigated with ancient equipment.

      Lyle lasted longer than any other owner.  His lifelong habit of rolling his own cigarettes, and smoking them finally did him in.  Emphysema rendered him barely able to keep the fire burning and feed himself during his final winter in the meadow.  Lyle finally gave up and let his neighbors take him to the hospital in Laramie where he died.

     Lyle was the idealized westerner, an independent man who survived on his own without relying on anyone and on very few modern conveniences.

    It must be a great read.  I’ve read it three times, now.  Maybe it is the local color.

     Currently, I am reading The Girls of Atomic City.   I hope to be done in time to attend a discussion at the Verboten Brewery.  Sounds like my kind of book club.