MY BOOKS part 1

MY BOOKS   part 1

For 10 years, starting in the mid 1970s,  a small, 5x8 bound sketchbook was my constant companion.  It was with me all day, every day, at home, in the office, the Emergency Room, or on out of town trips.  They were the repositories for comments, doodles, drawings, and assorted nonsense, all recorded with a pen; pencils were not allowed.

They helped be survive the most tumultuous years of my life, the transition from medicine to art, a devastating divorce, and shift work in a busy city Emergency room.  Once the transformation was complete and I settled into my new life 24 books were retired to a shelf in my study, a constant reminder of what once was.

Now, some 30 years later, I find myself going back into their pages, retrieving memories and reliving some of the hopes and fears of those very intense years, reminding myself of what I wanted, what I’ve gained, and what I’ve lost.   I can honestly say that I have achieved most of what I wanted.  I have lost much, but gained far more.

Occasionally the books themselves were a source of inspiration.

BOOK 22 (with apologies the RMR)

What will you do book when I die?

When my pen and wit go dry.

When I your life and line slip by

To that giant sketchbook in the sky?

Who will remain to touch your page?

My dearest Patience in her old age?

Nay I fear this will not be...

And dearest Patience answered me

“He wonders who when it’s not he?

Who will this mystery being be?

Who will bless this book with poem and pen?

Tis Billy boy who will draw again,

with words of gold and gifted zen.

But “lo, you cry, he can’t, he’s dead”

And so is this book as it’s been said.