Today, 6 March 2016, is Mother’s Day in Ireland.
Some weeks ago when I was in Massachusetts, I was helping my mother organize books in our library. Some shelves hold books that have resided there since 1973.
My mother surprised me by saying, “I put these books here thinking that you and your brother would read them. But you never did. I found that very disappointing. They just sat here all these years.”
I looked carefully at the shelf.
‘These books?’
Here was a diverse collection of subjects: philosophy, history, art criticism, architecture, economics, psychology, social affairs, literature, photography and biographies among other topics.
I took one from the shelf and opened it. Inside my name was written in blue ball point.
“I’ve read almost all of these books. See here’s my name.”
I picked up another. “I read this one twice, and I wrote a college paper on this one over here.”
“Really? When did you read them?”
Starting about 1983, whenever I’d go out making photographs, I bring a book with me. If I went to the Berkshires to photograph the Boston & Albany, I always have a book to read while waiting for trains to pass. Up there in the rocks and trees along the West End, I read countless books, including many of the books on that shelf. If I took a long train ride I’d always have a book with me.
“Even now, there’s one of these books on the back seat of the car.” (Veblen’s The Theory of the Leisure Class).
“I have a photo of Sean reading the book on propaganda at the Twin Ledges twenty years ago. And I remember reading all about the Borgia’s one summer’s day in the late 1980s waiting for Conrail.”
“I never knew that!” She said delighted.
Some of the books I’d read so long ago that their words had blended with my own thoughts.
The more I thought about it, the more the discussion about bookshelf astounded me.
Here, I read all these books that had shaped my view of the world and with it my photography and it never occurred to me that my mother had specifically put them there for me to read, nor did she know that I’d read them!
Happy Mother’s Day from Dublin!
I like your comment on your mother and on books read. I think this past Sunday is called Mothering Sunday in Britain, maybe that’s true in Ireland also.
Yes, I’ve met David. In addition, I’ve done considerable research on the bridges, some of which appears in my book on North American Railroad Bridges. I’ve also discovered a variety of things that I’ve never seen printed in the last 125 years.
Beautiful story – happy Mother’s Day!
I hope you include this photo (which is as good as any I’ve seen) and the story of Whistler’s bridges in your new B&A book. Can I assume you know David Pierce, who has worked many years to make these bridges accessible to the public, and knows the difference between myth and fact about these bridges? He would be an authoritative reference.
Wish your Mom a happy Irish Mother’s Day.
Putting the books out for you and Sean was a thoughtful and admirable plan.
Thanks, Brian, for sharing that. I think you would have enjoyed a thought provoking sermon in Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin on a similar subject today. Some time I might explain why today is Mother’s Day in these islands.