Years later, their voices still echo

The conversations we have with books and the people who share them with us

Before we begin…

How many times have you found yourself smiling over the past two weeks? What brought that smile, even fleetingly, to your lips? Or maybe you simply sat and read a few lines from a book or an article and felt better, more hopeful. Maybe a friend or a stranger did or said something that made you, at least for a few moments, see the world in a clearer light or made you feel more equipped for whatever lies ahead. If so, tell us. Share that moment or those words. They may be the ones that another needs most right now.

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Gratitude Department

Thank you to Roseanne C., our most recent paid subscriber and to the many free subscribers who have recently joined the fold.

Thank you, too, to all of you who have read about the fires and have checked in by email to see how we are. Our loved ones are safe and so are we. Rain is reportedly on the way. Here’s hoping.

Books and the conversations that never end

This excerpt from a recent post by

Sarah Miller

has stayed with me since I read it.

“More than once lately, I’ve thought to myself, what’s the point? Is there even going to be a world worth living in, when (god willing) my children are old?

But then I think about the kind of people I want them to become — the human beings I am raising, to the best of my ability, with everything I have and everything I am — and I know, to my core, that I want them to be curious, kind, strong, understanding, compassionate, and 110% sure of their worth…I’m not always great at imparting that … I am skilled with words and yet words fail me more often than I’d like, so I’m grateful I can borrow the words of others, of authors who can say it better than I can, who have more patience for (probably) everything, who see the world in a way I don’t and in some instances, can’t.” -

Sarah Miller

I don’t have kids to read to right now but I am still working on the ongoing project of being a good human. Sarah’s words made me realize how much I rely on the words of others to help me get there. She made me think of conversations that started with the books I read as a child.

Like many, I received my first books from my parents but my grandparents were big contributors to my early libraries with copies of The Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys books, My Friend Flicka, Black Beauty, Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I never thought about whether or not they had an agenda beyond keeping me occupied. Well, maybe my very Catholic grandmother had something in mind when she gifted me Sixty Saints for Girls on my first communion and, later, in eighth grade, The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis which I never understood until much later. When I see the title, I think instantly of my grandmother as much as I think of the demon, Screwtape, and his bumbling protegé.

Every book I read then launched a conversation I’ve been having with the world and with myself ever since.

This is one reason why I am struck by the premise of a beautiful little book that I received this week from my friend: Encounters with Inscriptions by Kristin Czarnecki. I’ve only read the preface but I already know that it is something I will read deeply and, as I do, I will be thinking of the friend who gave it to me. She has known me for nearly fifty years. A number of books on my shelves are gifts from her. Each reflects what she knows of me or what is important to me. Each contains a bit of what interests her and what she wants me to think about with her. They are part of an ongoing conversation we’ve been having for these past five decades. I cherish them.

The title of this newest gift was not compelling but it didn’t matter once I took a look inside. Here, I found a memoir built around twenty-seven books, each given to her by one or both of her parents over the course of her life and each inscribed with a little note. The journey that led to the book began one night when she found herself alone after her parents had died within nine months of each other. She found an edition of Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights bound together that her father had bought her for Christmas in 1983. It was inscribed with a few small lines: “To Kristin, for her 14th Christmas. Read with delight and pleasure, my dear. Love, forever and ever, Dad 1983.

“Seeing his handwriting again and his lovely inscription was like getting a little “hello” from him when I least expected it, and when I most certainly needed it.” - Kristin Czarnecki, Encounters with Inscriptions

That night launched Czarnecki on a quest to read or reread all of the books her parents had inscribed for her in whatever order made sense for her life now. The books begin with Shel Silverstein’s A Light in the Attic and ends with Luka and the Fire of Life by Salman Rushdie. In between lie the Bronte sisters, Alic Munro, Flannery O’Connor, Edmund Fizgeralds’ translation of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam, Thomas Merton, Gail Collins, and more, including The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins.

I’ve read some of the books on Czarnecki’s list. I may never read others on it. But I am fascinated by her journey. It is impossible for me not to think of how many of the books on my own shelves connect me with people I love. I’ve written about this before here and here. Many of mine are not inscribed and I feel the loss of that. An inscription, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, turns a book given from one person to another into a letter that can be read over and over again, a conversation that never really ends – with the person who gave us the book and with the book itself. Even after those who give us the books are gone, their voices echo in those few lines, and the books themselves remain.

How did your favorite book(s) enter your life? When you receive a book from a loved one, as a gift, what does it mean to you? Tell us about a time when a book you received or gave led to a stronger connection or a conversation that continues to this day? How have books helped you to see yourself and the world a more clearly?

“I ask myself: how would I feel?”

In one of his quotes I treasure most, Howard Zinn asks us to “remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.”

The news held some glimmers of hope and inspiration even as fires have transformed the landscape of entire cities and our country’s new leadership has revealed the worst side of human nature.

Maria Garcia, Israel Garcia, two undocumented immigrants who rushed to help put out the fires in a Pasadena neighborhood. "Our values and our principles come first, that's what our parents taught us," Garcia said. "They always used to say, help others without concern for who they are or why they need help… - Maria Garcia,

“I don't know who lives here. I don't know if they had children. But if they did, I'm thinking about what the children are going to feel when they come back and see that their house is gone. And I ask myself, how would I feel?" - Israel Garcia, another of the undocumented immigrants who rushed to help put out the fires.

“We were wrong that day, we broke the law.” – Pamela Hemphill, who served 60 days for her crimes on January 6, 2020, refused her pardon from the president.

If you like what you see or it resonates with you, please take a minute to click the heart ❤️ below - it helps more folks to find us!Working, writing - a different kind of conversation

Writing a novel is another whole conversation

And lately, it’s been going well. I’m closing in on the end of this version which was my hope for the first quarter of 2025. It has felt good to be so absorbed, to be making progress, although at times, I’ve wondered how this can be given what has unfolded in the two weeks since I last posted here.

It’s not that I have missed the news of the last two weeks or am unaware of the destructive fires to the north of us and the ones that have flared up closer to home. I certainly can’t say I am optimistic about the future and that there haven’t been flashes of abject fear, searing anger, and deep grief, and survivor’s guilt. All I can say is that, for now, it is possible to breathe freely in spite of all of it. I smile, even laugh at times. I can work. I have found myself giving the small joys as much weight as I give my fears. And I’ve observed that when I do any of these things, I am stronger, not only for myself but for other people. It’s a revelation, a new one. I’m still getting used to it. I’m hoping to sustain it. I have no idea if I can. I guess it’s a question of practice, constant practice, as I keep working on being a decent human. If you want to share writers or books or essays that you’ve found helpful, I welcome them.

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Ciao for now!

Gratefully yours,

Betsy

P.S. And now, your moment of Zen…for a little while, we each had the moon

My brother caught the full moon at night on the New Hampshire mountain where my mother lives. Twelve hours and three thousand miles away, I caught it as it disappeared into the dawn on the West Coast.

Calling for Your Contribution to “Moment of Zen”:

What is YOUR moment of Zen? Send me your photos, a video, a drawing, a song, a poem, or anything with a visual that moved you, thrilled you, calmed you. Or just cracked you up. This feature is wide open for your own personal interpretation.

Come on, go through your photos, your memories or just keep your eyes and ears to the ground and then share. Send your photos/links, etc. to me by replying to this email or simply by sending to: elizabethmarro@substack.com. The main guidelines are probably already obvious: don’t hurt anyone -- don’t send anything that violates the privacy of someone you love or even someone you hate, don’t send anything divisive, or aimed at disparaging others. Our Zen moments are to help us connect, to bond, to learn, to wonder, to share -- to escape the world for a little bit and return refreshed.

I can’t wait to see what you send!

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