The Call of the Wild

The book was on the top shelf. I was just tall enough to face that shelf. Neither the bookcase nor I were very tall and I was too young to be able to read very well but the title always caught my attention, The Call of the Wild. I’m not sure whose book it was, perhaps Grandma’s because she read a lot. Neither my Dad, their son, not Grandpa was seen reading much beyond the newspaper. Some 70 years later, the Great American Read is on Public Broadcasting television, and The Call of the Wild has called out to me again. I no longer have my Grandparent’s copy; however, the book is now on my Kindle. I’ve read this great story of Buck several times. His story, and the way Jack London can describe an event, has always captured my imagination. It is one of the great books, at least in my opinion. Reading it again reminds me of the bookcase in my grandparents’ home and the book. Buck’s story is that of an archetype calling this great dog back to his ancestors from the forest and wolves. Reading The Call of the Wild again brings me back to my Grandparent’s home with fond and peaceful memories.

Selective Memory and Emotions

One of the longest phases of the grieving process is the phase called 'Selective Memory and Emotions.' My brother, Bobby, died last September. He and I would watch the Oklahoma of University football games on television and give each other a high-five when there was a great play and, always, when OU scored a touchdown. This past Saturday was the beginning of the 2018 football season and OU was on television. I watched the football game. There were many great plays and OU scored a lot of touchdowns. I missed Bobby. There was no one with whom I could share the game and give high-fives. It didn't seem the same.