September 3rd, 2011

abstract butterfly


Today in response to a post I was listing out books I like to re-read. My list tends to run a bit old-fashioned. Tonight I saw the ending of Robert Donat's "Goodbye, Mr. Chips", and realized I'd left the James Hilton novella off my list, though I re-read it often. Another LJ friend mentioned Helene Hanff's "84 Charing Cross Road", but that, too is one I would re-read. As I prepared to write this, I realized that the James Herriott books and P.G. Wodehouse Jeeves books are also frequent re-reads. My re-read list is rather like a library list for British novellas that would have fit in the 1930s through 50s Saturday Evening Post.

We dined at Rockfish Grill tonight, where I ate grilled catfish, boiled potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Then I watched on television as the football team from Baylor University defeated the favored team from Texas Christian University. I enjoyed the game because both teams showed an abundance of that elusive, 1940s novella quality--pure and ardent heart. So many times I find the people that intrigue me the most are not the cleverest or the most successful or the most lovely, or the most insightful, but instead those who try really hard, and who show a lot of generosity, a good sense of perspective and an abundance of heart.