A Reading Life

Today would mark my father’s seventieth birthday. We’re all here on a limited warranty, he’d often say, and his expired two years ago this summer. But throughout his life, he never stopped reading, collecting books on wide-ranging subjects from “Pistol Pete” Maravich to Nietzsche’s sister. His was a reading life, the seven decades’ worth of books filling shelves, stuffed in boxes, but also imparted onto others through his witty references, florid comparisons, and poignant reminiscences. As one friend memorialized, “He was one of the few people on planet Earth that could make an analogy between Czarist Russia and the price of lettuce at Giant grocery store."