Lift Up Your Hearts!

It's time for my annual compilation of books read during the past year. A few patterns stand out: my current C. S. Lewis retrospective; the discovery of several new Rick Brant Science-Adventure books, necessitating a re-read of the whole series; the release of a new Green Ember book, ditto; and the discovery in July of the Brother Cadfael books. Mystery and adventure were heavily represented this year; hence so was fiction. Here are a few statistics:

• Total books: 92, not up to last year's 108, but more than any other year since I started keeping track in 2010
• Fiction 61, non-fiction 22, other 9 
• Months with most books: February and December, tied at 15
• Months with fewest books: September, not a one; June had only two; travel is another way of expanding one's horizons
• Most frequent authors: John Blaine (Harold L. Goodwin) 24; C. S. Lewis 23; Ellis Peters 16

Here's the alphabetical list; links are to reviews. Titles in bold are ones I found particularly worthwhile, but the different colors only reflect whether or not you've followed a hyperlink. This chronological list has ratings and warnings as well.

1. 100 Fathoms Under: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #4 by John Blaine
2. 3000 Quotations from the Writings of George MacDonald by Harry Verploegh (ed.)
3. The Abolition of Man by C. S. Lewis
4. The Armchair Economist: Economics and Everyday Life by Steven E. Landsburg
5. The Bible (The Message paraphrase)
6. The Black Star of Kingston by S. D. Smith
7. The Blue Ghost Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #15 by John Blaine
8. A Book of Narnians: The Lion, the Witch and the Others by C. S. Lewis, James Riordan, Pauline Baynes
9. The Books of the Apocrypha
10. The Business of Heaven: Daily Readings from C. S. Lewis by Walter Hooper (ed.)
11. C. S. Lewis on Scripture by Michael J. Christensen
12. The Caves of Fear: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #8 by John Blaine
13. The Chronicles of Narnia 1: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis
14. The Chronicles of Narnia 2: Prince Caspian by C. S. Lewis
15. The Chronicles of Narnia 3: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis
16. The Chronicles of Narnia 4: The Silver Chair by C. S. Lewis
17. The Chronicles of Narnia 5: The Horse and His Boy by C. S. Lewis
18. The Chronicles of Narnia 6: The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis
19. The Chronicles of Narnia 7: The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis
20. The Confession of Brother Haluin (Brother Cadfael #15) by Ellis Peters
21. The Crusades Controversy: Setting the Record Straight by Thomas F. Madden
22. Danger Below!: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #23 by John Blaine
23. Dead Man's Ransom (Brother Cadfael #9) by Ellis Peters
24. The Deadly Dutchman: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #22 by John Blaine
25. Decisive by Chip Heath and Dan Heath
26. The Devil's Novice (Brother Cadfael #8) by Ellis Peters
27. The Egyptian Cat Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #16 by John Blaine
28. The Electronic Mind Reader: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #12 by John Blaine
29. Ember Falls by S. D. Smith
30. An Excellent Mystery (Brother Cadfael #11) by Ellis Peters
31. The First Fowler by S. D. Smith
32. The Flaming Mountain: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #17 by John Blaine
33. The Flying Stingaree: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #18 by John Blaine
34. Go Wild by John Ratey and Richard Manning
35. The Golden Skull: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #10 by John Blaine
36. The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis
37. The Green Ember by S.D. Smith
38. The Hermit of Eyton Forest (Brother Cadfael #14) by Ellis Peters
39. Innovation on Tap by Eric B. Schultz
40. The Last Archer by S. D. Smith
41. The Leper of Saint Giles (Brother Cadfael #5) by Ellis Peters
42. The Lost City: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #2 by John Blaine
43. Lost in Math: How Beauty Leads Physics Astray by Sabine Hossenfelder
44. The Magic Talisman: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #24 by John Blaine
45. Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis
46. Miracles by C. S. Lewis
47. The Misadventured Summer of Tumbleweed Thompson by Glenn McCarty
48. Monk's Hood (Brother Cadfael #3) by Ellis Peters
49. A Morbid Taste for Bones (Brother Cadfael #1) by Ellis Peters
50. More Sex Is Safer Sex: The Unconventional Wisdom of Economics by Steven E. Landsburg
51. Ocean-Born Mary by Lois Lenski
52. On Stories: And Other Essays on Literature by C. S. Lewis
53. One Corpse Too Many (Brother Cadfael #2) by Ellis Peters
54. Ordinary Grace by William Kent Krueger
55. Past Watchful Dragons: The Narnian Chronicles of C. S. Lewis by Walter Hooper
56. Perelandra (space trilogy part 2) by C. S. Lewis
57. The Phantom Shark: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #6 by John Blaine
58. The Pilgrim of Hate (Brother Cadfael #10) by Ellis Peters
59. The Pirates of Shan: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #14 by John Blaine
60. Poems by C. S. Lewis
61. A Preface to "Paradise Lost" by C. S. Lewis
62. A Rare Benedictine: The Advent of Brother Cadfael (Brother Cadfael #16) by Ellis Peters
63. The Raven in the Foregate (Brother Cadfael #12) by Ellis Peters
64. Recasting the Past: The Middle Ages in Young Adult Literature by Rebecca Barnhouse
65. Reflections on the Psalms by C. S. Lewis
66. The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson
67. Rocket Jumper: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #21 by John Blaine
68. The Rocket's Shadow: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #1 by John Blaine
69. The Rose Rent (Brother Cadfael #13) by Ellis Peters
70. The Ruby Ray Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #19 by John Blaine
71. Saint Peter's Fair (Brother Cadfael #4) by Ellis Peters
72. The Sanctuary Sparrow (Brother Cadfael #7) by Ellis Peters
73. The Scarlet Lake Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #13 by John Blaine
74. The Screwtape Letters and Screwtape Proposes a Toast by C. S. Lewis
75. Sea Gold: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #3 by John Blaine
76. Smoke on the Mountain by Joy Davidman
77. Smugglers' Reef: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #7 by John Blaine
78. Son of Charlemagne by Barbara Willard
79. Stairway to Danger: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #9 by John Blaine
80. The Story of Christianity, Volume 1: The Early Church To The Dawn Of The Reformation by Justo L. Gonzalez
81. The Story of Christianity, Volume 2: The Reformation to the Present Day by Justo L. Gonzalez
82. Strange Planet by Nathan W. Pyle
83. Studies in Words by C. S. Lewis
84. Surprised by Joy by C. S. Lewis
85. That Hideous Strength (space trilogy part 3) by C. S. Lewis
86. Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis
87. The Veiled Raiders: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #20 by John Blaine
88. The Virgin in the Ice (Brother Cadfael #6) by Ellis Peters
89. The Wailing Octopus: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #11 by John Blaine
90. The Weight of Glory and other Addresses by C. S. Lewis
91. The Whispering Box Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story #5 by John Blaine
92. The Wreck and Rise of Whitson Mariner by S. D. Smith

Since my birthday, when I received the first book in the series, I've been delighting in the adventures of Brother Cadfael. I had made it through almost half of the series when my reading threatened to grind to a halt, because I could not get the next book through either of our libraries (one here, one in Connecticut). I have a spreadsheet showing where and in what form (physical or digital) the books are available, and alas, three of them have a sad, red "0" entry.

Then I had a flash of inspiration. We were about to spend some time in another city! And indeed, the tiny Fuller Public Library, which I had been so rude as to denigrate on occasion because of its size, had everything I needed. What a clever solution! I returned home, confident in my ability to complete the works, since the rest were available at our local library.

Or so I thought. (Something about pride, and falls....) Yes, they are among the library's holdings, but only at the East Branch. Not to worry—the library happily moves books from one branch to another. Except for the slight problem that the East Branch is now closed for renovations, re-opening date unknown but likely March at the earliest, and the books are trapped inside.

That was probably a good thing, since I still had Gonzalez's The Story of Christianity, Volume 2 to complete before the end our our Church History class. But I enjoy lighter reading, too, especially in so busy a time as Advent, so I decided it was time to re-read my Green Ember collection, having just acquired the latest (The First Fowler) and anticipating the release of Ember's End in the spring. But I stopped after reading six of them, saving Ember Rising for closer to when I'll be able to follow it immediately with the next book. So, stuck again.

No problem! Christmas brought, depending on how you count, between 11 and 13 new books into the house, including three by David McCullough. So, no lack of reading materials (light and decidedly not so). Having devoured Nathan W. Pyle's Strange Planet, I'm now enjoying Innovation on Tap by my Occasional CEO friend, Eric B. Schultz. I had been waiting for this book for years (as had he, no doubt!) and will save my review for after I've finished it, but the very first chapter has inspired a genealogical blog post (still in progress).

I have great riches in reading material—not to mention the other 2000+ books standing at my service on our bookshelves and Kindles—so I can afford to wait for Cadfael and Green Ember, however reluctantly.

Time to read, of course, is another matter!

Early this morning, photographed from our driveway.

I love the fun and challenge of homemade Hallowe'en costumes. These range (not in order) from 1958 to 1989, and were chosen for the practical reason that they were the photos I could find handily.

The Trees in Autumn

The Happy Clown

The Salt and Pepper Shakers

The Fierce Knight

The Quill Pen and the Umbrella

Those were the days! The days before the proliferation of adult Hallowe'en parties, "harvest festivals," trick-or-treating at the mall, "Trunk-or-Treat", and safety-above-all. We enjoyed crisp fall nights (we never went out before dark!); hand-carved pumpkins with candles inside (though every Hallowe'en was haunted by the memory of the hoods who prowled the streets smashing them, breaking my six-year-old heart) and roasting our own pumpkin seeds; roaming throughout the neighborhood as a family, waving at our friends as we passed (we only went to the homes of people we knew, but that was most of the neighborhood and certainly provided a more-than-sufficient "haul"); consuming cider (unpasteurized, of course), doughnuts, and my mother's amazing pumpkin cookies. And we never, ever bought a costume! Hallowe'en was about children, creativity, family, and neighbors even more than candy. Not that the candy wasn't significant in those days when sweets were not so readily available as today.

I tried to keep my experience of Hallowe'en alive for our children, and succeeded to some extent. Moving to Florida pretty much did away with the "crisp fall nights" part, however.

Today some of the world's craziest most dedicated cyclists are tackling Pittsburgh's Dirty Dozen bicycle race. I know about this not just because Heather used to live in Pittsburgh, but mostly because the race was founded by Danny Chew, the brother of one of our friends. I've written about Danny before; for example, when he and our friend's son biked from Pittsburgh to Alaska.

The coincidence of today's race with seeing this Babylon Bee article in my Facebook feed was too good to pass up.  (Thanks, Spencer.)

Motorcyclist Who Identifies As Bicyclist Sets Cycling World Record

I've never seen the Dirty Dozen race live, nor am I likely to, given that we no longer have family in Pittsburgh. But I've seen some of those hills, and know that walking my bike up them would be enough of a challenge. I suspect even a motorcyclist would think twice.

Our Church History class has resumed: we have moved on to Volume 2 of Justo L. Gonzales' The Story of Christianity. The books are interesting and the class even better—it's helpful to have our well-educated pastor's insights to affirm/debunk/clarify/expand the author's views. I wish there were more discussion—but the class is already an hour and a half long.

I recently rediscovered this cartoon, which I first came upon in 2012. Sometimes it feels like a good summary of church history. Or the history of science, for that matter. Or the human condition in general! (Click image to enlarge.)

How many Anglo-Catholic snake-handling churches do you know? Once a year we let our wild side show.

This was at our annual Feast of Saint Francis Blessing of the Animals, where people bring their pets to receive a priestly blessing. Normally the service is outdoors, but rain intervened this week, so all the animals came into the sanctuary.

Had I known, I might have taken a preventative antihistimine, though I generally take such measures only as a last resort. Despite claiming for myself a corner away from most of the furry people—deserting my alto comrades and sitting amongst the sopranos—my eyes were burning before the service even began, and by the time it was over, I could barely sing. However, I managed to continue breathing unhindered, so I consider that strategy a win.

The snake? Snakes are good. No fur, no dander. Plus they eat rats.

Since 2010 I have kept a list of the books I've read each year. It began as a New Year's resolution, when I realized that although I was still reading a great deal, the percentage of books included in that reading had declined considerably. In the spirit of "what gets measured, gets done," that resolution was highly successful, and I've kept up the practice of logging my books because I still find it useful.

Last year was my best year ever (108 books read), and this year is on track to be good as well (67 by the end of August, which was ahead of last year's pace).

And then came September.

After a steady reading diet each month from January to August (6, 15, 11, 10, 7, 2, 9, and 7 books), I completed zero (0) books in September. In my 10 years of keeping track, that has only happened once before, in November 2011.

So what did I do in September, if I couldn't even finish one book?

Oh, yeah. We prepared for a hurricane. In the end, it didn't hit us, for which I'm exceedingly grateful, but for a long time it looked as if it would, and the preparation is largely the same whether the hurricane hits or not. And Porter was distracted and out of town until the threats became truly serious, because of his father's death and his subsequent executor duties.

Then we spent three weeks in Switzerland and Rome, where we played with grandchildren and hiked and travelled and visited museums from morning till night.

I could have made a better showing in September if I had thought about it. Some of my favorite times were sitting on the porch swing, reading side by side with our granddaughter, who turned from a self-described non-reader into a confirmed bookworm practically overnight while we were there. I could have been sharing her A to Z Mysteries as she blew through them. Or I could have been reading the new-to-me Life of Fred books that I noticed too late on their shelves. Instead, I tackled a longer and more challenging book: Lost in Math: How Beauty Leads Physics Astray. I should have known I'd end up needing to borrow it and bring it home for completion.

Plus, I have plenty of fairly short books on my Kindle that I could have completed on one of our transatlantic flights. If I'd had a new Brother Cadfael book, I probably would have. Instead, I did puzzles, watched cooking shows, enjoyed a movie about J.R.R. Tolkien (that's another post), and slept.

There are no real excuses for having left September a blank in my reading record. As with many things in life, if I'd put my mind to it, I could have done better. But neither are there regrets. We had an exciting and fulfilling September, and October is another month!

What do you do when you're hiking along in Switzerland and a big Bernese Mountain dog runs up to you, leans against your leg, and sits on your foot, stopping all forward motion?

Then rolls over, exposing a furry belly and pleading eyes?

And you're allergic to dogs?

You give thanks that he's not a cat, and give him a good tummy rub using one hand only, promising yourself you won't touch your face until you get home and can wash.

Because who can resist such trusting love?

There is something in the very presence and actuality of a thing to make one able to bear it; but a man may weaken himself for bearing what God intends him to bear, by trying to bear what God does not intend him to bear.... When we do not know, then what he lays upon us is not to know, and to be content not to know.

— George MacDonald, "What's Mine's Mine."

Waiting for Dorian is like being stalked by a tortoise.  A slow tortoise.

Porter is now the patriarch of our family.  His father died last week, at the good age of 92.  We are thankful that he did not linger in a nursing home, and that his mind was still his own even as his body deteriorated.  His obituary was published in the Hartford Courant of August 22, 2019.  Because the Courant charges a shocking price, I'm publishing the longer (and more genealogically satisfying) version here.

William Stoddard Wightman of Old Saybrook, Connecticut died August 15, 2019 at Middlesex Hospital in Middletown.  Born February 21, 1927 in Bristol, Connecticut, Bill was the son of Stoddard Elsworth Wightman and Hilma Louise (Lulu) Faulk. He is survived by a son, William Porter Wightman (Linda) of Altamonte Springs, Florida, and a daughter, Prudence Wightman Sloane (Jay) of Salem, Connecticut, as well as three grandchildren,  Heather (Jon) Daley, Janet (Stephan) Stücklin, and Spencer Sloane, and ten great-grandchildren, Jonathan, Noah, Faith, Joy, Jeremiah, and Nathaniel Daley, and Joseph, Vivienne, Daniel, and Eleonora Stücklin. He was predeceased by two wives, Alice Davis Porter of Higganum (1952-2001) and Arline Johnson McCahan (2002-2012), one sister, Elinor (Wightman) (Fredrickson) Fisher, and one great-grandson, Isaac Daley.

Bill enlisted in the Navy the day after he turned seventeen and was trained as a medic for the invasion of Japan, but was “saved by the bomb.” After the service he worked as a shad fisherman and helped Ernie Hull build the marina at Saybrook Point. He then went to Mitchell College and the Rhode Island School of Design, getting a degree in textile engineering. He worked thirty years for Albany International designing paper machine clothing. This gave him the opportunity to work abroad in France, Sweden, Holland, Brazil, and South Africa. He retired in South Carolina in 1982, living there until his second marriage in 2002 when he moved to Old Saybrook. He was an avid sailor and proud owner of the Fenwick cottage, the “Maggie P.”  In lieu of flowers donations can be made to the U.S. Navy Memorial in Washington.

As our new rector has taught us, we are bold to say,

May he rest in peace and rise in glory!

We couldn't see yesterday's Falcon 9 launch from home this time, due to clouds between us and the coast. We did catch the first stage landing live, albeit via the television coverage. That was impressive enough for one who grew up with expendible rocket boosters and landing scenarios that did not look at all like those depicted in the science fiction novels I loved.

Three cheers for small-town America! I know small towns and villages can be narrow and stifling and ingrown—but they can also put on festivals that warm my heart and give me hope for our country. I love the Independence Day parade and party put on by little Geneva, Florida, an eclectic and heart-warming mix of modern America and old-time Florida. And I'm sure that if I were in Hillsboro, New Hampshire this weekend, I would love their Fest and Fair, which sounds like something from my own childhood. Until this year, the event was called the Balloon Festival and Fair.

Long ago, nine balloon pilots lived in Hillsborough. They’ve all left or stopped flying, and balloons have become too expensive for the fair, which serves as a fundraiser for local firefighters and service organizations, Daley said, so the Hillsboro Balloon Festival and Fair has dropped “balloon” from its name.

The man quoted above is Jon Daley, our son-in-law. In addition to being one of the town's three selectmen (the form of local government in New England), he is a fireman and an EMT with the Hillsboro Fire Department, and his wife (our daughter) is part of the Ladies' Auxiliary, so planning for, working at, and attending the Fest and Fair is mandatory in their family.

Mandatory—and fun, at least for the kids, even without the balloons. I suspect one or more of our grandchildren may be running a lemonade stand there, too.

The fair hopes a bigger car show and a new skillet toss will bring fresh air.

The skillet toss must be New England's equivalent of Geneva's cow-chip toss (which in these modern times does not use the real thing, in case you were wondering).

Aside from the lack of hot-air balloons, there was only one thing I found depressing about the article:

[This year] here will be cheaper beer. “Before we had fancy beers, and everyone said they don’t like fancy beers, so we’re doing Bud and Bud Light,” Daley said.

Better stick with the lemonade.

The fireworks – “a lot better, a lot bigger, a lot longer than any of the other small-town stuff,” according to Daley – are back. So is one of last year’s hot draws: the unicorns. “This year they’re bringing two bigger horses too,” Daley said, clarifying that he meant to refer to horses’ elusive and horned relatives.

I know a couple of Swiss granddaughters who would want to come to the fair for the unicorns alone.

Admission is free, though some activities may cost money, and parking is $10 per car. No animals, aside from working service dogs, are allowed.

And unicorns.

Having recently emerged from a long labor, I am again amazed at how like childbirth is the creative endeavor.

The creative endeavor in question was a new book. Not that kind of book, I hasten to assure my friends and relatives who are published authors. My speciality is Shutterfly photo books—primarily for our grandchildren—with titles like The Art of Frederic Edwin Church, The Cantons of Switzerland, and Grandma and Dad-o Visit the Gambia. But if my artistic efforts are on a small scale, they are nonetheless artistic efforts, and extraordinarily like that highest of creative works of which mankind is capable, the co-creation with God of a unique human being.

As usual, this book began with nothing but a joyful idea and a due date: I had an offer for a "free" (pay only for shipping & tax) Shutterfly book with an expiration date of June 30. At that point I had no idea what the book would be about, just that it would be. The project perked along happily in the back of my mind as I occasionally thought about possibilities and laid the groundwork. Ah, the early days, when the delivery date seems so far away! I had plenty of time, and expected an easy "pregnancy."

As happens all too often, life took some unexpected turns, some good, some bad. Complications developed.

We had planned a major trip in May and June, which always plays havoc with my projects, but in this case there were two time periods in which I thought I could count on quiet time for some intense work. During our New Hampshire visit, all of the family but me were to have gone on a four-day camping trip, leaving me alone in the house to create. Later, during the Connecticut portion of our trip, we were to be there a full week before the main event, and our plans were simple: Porter—talk with his dad, work around the house, and play board games with his sister; Linda—work on this project! Almost two weeks of very little else to do? Surely I could accomplish much!

Yeah, right. First monkey wrench? Not long before the start of the trip, Porter experienced what turned out to be an intense sciatica attack. It was a miracle he was able to lie down flat for the MRI—which showed that his spine is a ticking bomb, ready to cripple him whenever the bulge hits the sciatic nerve. Despite this, we prepared for the trip in between medical necessities, and had some unexpected company (of the best kind!); in the end he was feeling well enough to want to make the trip. I wasn't so sure, but by another miracle he managed to make the long, long drive, only stopping more frequently than usual to rest and stretch. We arrived in New Hampshire only one day later than planned, and the camping trip was the following day! At that point, I felt I needed to be wherever Porter was, especially in a camping situation. We both decided to go, and it was great fun.

But there went the first writing session.

The second one was obliterated through two factors: (1) Porter's 92-year-old father became ill, and (2) we decided to bring two of our grandchildren with us when we left New Hampshire. So that week was spent on other activities—those more important than writing and those more fun. That's "fun" in the general sense—I find the creative process immensely satisfying, and yes, fun (most of the time), but not many agree.

When finally home (though not back to normal), I realized my due date was rapidly approaching and something had to be done about it. We all know that induced labors are more intense and painful than natural labors, and so it was in this case. Soon I was in my least favorite part of the book-creating process: wading through huge piles of data, making painful decision after painful decision necessary to make it all manageable. When the pain was at its worst I was ready to give up due to frustration and exhaustion. Of course, I was then in "transition," the point where laboring women are ready to jump out of windows—or defenestrate their husbands.

On to the blissful agony of the "pushing" stage, where the labor pains finally make obvious progress and the end is in sight. I had created the covers—for some reason, having the covers done makes everything else seem possible. I was on a roll. Only the necessities of life stopped me. I love this stage! The work was still tedious and painful: the process of making a photo page consists mainly in deciding what not to use, reluctantly casting aside photo after photo that just won't fit. To use another analogy, you can't make a sculpture without removing the wood or the stone, and the closer you get to the finished work, the more important and delicate each removal is. But oh the thrill as each page fell into place! Normally I'm good for nothing but sleep after nine o'clock at night. I blew past that mark, unheeding. Rarely do I work as efficiently and as effectively as I did that night, despite the lateness of the hour. Nine, ten, eleven, midnight—the hours passed and the pages slowly and steadily fell into place. It seemed nothing would stop me.

But finally, at 3:30 a.m., something did. My Shutterfly deal expired at midnight Pacific Time, and I still had four pages to go. Often, when I've barely beaten a deadline (never this late before!), once the deadline is actually past, Shutterfly will extend the offer by one more day. Not so this time, when I could have used it. By 3:30 it was clear that there was no point in pushing myself any further. I had another offer almost as good that didn't expire for another week. I went to bed at an hour very near to the time I often arise in the morning. Not since the birth of my firstborn had I worked through that much of the night.

The next day I was glad I had gone to bed, albeit for what turned out to be only a couple of hours' sleep, because there was still most of a day's worth of labor ahead of me. Of course, my sleep-deprived brain wasn't as efficient as it had been the night before! But I made it, and—after much more proofreading and editing than if I had finished the book at 2:55 the previous night—I clicked on the "Order" button and the baby was born!

And here's where the childbirth analogy breaks down. I won't actually have the book in my hands for at least a week, for one thing, and for another: with this particular book the pain is gone and the sleepless nights are done.

I chose the subject of this book for two reasons. One: I think it will bring delight to Porter's father, who could use some sunshine in his life right now. Two: since I could make it with no text, and I had plenty of appropriate photos at hand, I thought I could do the job quickly. I even thought of trying Shutterfly's feature where they take your photos and make them into a nice book for you. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I have my standards, and I must tell the story myself. So be it.

I have many sins on my conscience, but Evil E-mail Man proved that he was talking through his hat by choosing one that I know beyond the shadow of a doubt I have never committed.

Apparently, "I have a video of you screaming at your kids, and if you don't pay me a bunch of Bitcoin, I'll release it to all of your contacts" is not considered nearly as threatening as "I have a video of you visiting an internet porn site."  But at least it would have been credible.