Mom’s Homemade Books

Although I never thought about it enough to put it into words while I was growing up, I always knew that my mother was a deep thinker and a dreamer with a beautiful soul.  For her, reading was like breathing – it was just something she did all the time because she could not live without doing it.  She found inspiration and comfort in many various and divergent forms while never straying from her unshakable base of a strong religious faith. I’m sure I never told her how much I admired those things about her.  If I had she would have brushed the praises aside with a smile and denied being anything special. 


This book is something I “inherited” (decided I wanted and got my sister to hand over) and it’s just one of  many that she put together.  When did she find the time for this early version of scrap-booking?  I confess I don’t know because I have no images in my mind of her sitting down to cut and paste and compile.  It’s a rather ingenious way of recycling an old book.  Glue some stuff over the title on the outside, and then glue more stuff onto the pages inside. Throughout there are whole leafs that have been cut out entirely at regular intervals so that the end result isn’t one big bulky mess.

Inside are clippings from other sources – magazines, newspapers, periodicals – and things handwritten or typed in cases where cutting things out wasn’t an option I suppose.  Mostly there are religious poems and prayers and much singing of praises and contemplation of life and death and what they mean and advice on how to live well and die happy.  Really not my kind of thing I’m afraid, although I’ve given it my best shot trying to read all of it.  It does contain a few gems in amongst all the blather.

The first thing that caught my eye when I picked this up and opened it is the phrase that she no doubt jotted down simply because she liked it.  Perhaps it never crossed her mind that these words are a perfect description of herself.

Ever she sought the best, ever found it.  Followed by a picture of the mountains and the fall colors that she loved so much.  Those things alone make this book a most precious keepsake.