Yesterday, on my blog about Jimmy Carter, I posted a picture of a flag at half staff. The flag in question stands in the National Cemetery at Fredericksburg, Virginia, on Mayres Heights, the hill Confederates defended and Union soldiers attacked. It was one sided. The Union soldiers were climbing uphill over open ground. The Confederates with their cannons were well hidden in a sunken road. It was a slaughter.

I got my book yesterday. Six Impossible Things. It’s less than 100 pages but I think it’s going to open up the world of quantum mechanics for me, or at least give me something to think about that’s bigger than myself.

While we’re on the subject of Vietnam, which is where I was yesterday. Here’s my favorite book on the subject, and not a favorite because it lays out some great theoretical story about why and how we got there, but a favorite because it’s full of great writing and tells stories about the little guys, because most histories are about the officers, and this one is about the grunts.

I found myself in close proximity to a bookstore the other day. Went in and browsed around. Found a copy of Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. Bought it. Brought it home. Read it. I’m glad I did.

There are books that are fun to read and that’s that. There are books that make you think, and that’s that. But then there are books the make you think and suddenly that’s no longer that, but something entirely different

In addition, to reading, I like to cook, and this book is my bible and guide and reference point.

I like J.D. Salinger but not for the book that made him famous, Catcher in the Rye. I just didn’t get it. But Franny and Zooey, well, that was a different story.

I’ve loved McPhee’s work ever since I ran across his writing in the New Yorker back in the early 70s. He writes in elegant prose and he’s right up there with E. B. White another New Yorker author I love.

I remember as a young boy going to the battlefield in Yorktown. Looking at the redoubts. Walking the ground. It was exhilarating. It was made more so, because I’d read a book called We Were There at the Battle of Yorktown, from a popular young adult series back in the fifties.

The world is hot and only one man can save it. Sounds like a historical novel, but it’s fiction by Neal Stephenson.

My son-in-law, Army veteran, Ranger, and reserve officer is a constant source of reading material for me. Last Christmas he gave me: Black Hawk Down.

My great grandfather immigrated from Norway, joined the United States army in New Orleans, fought in the Mexican-American War, and was discharged from Fort Martin Scott, in Fredericksburg, just down the road from my house in Johnson City, Texas.

Once again we go back to war college. My son-in-law was selected to attend the U.S Army War College. He received his book list, shared it with me, and I thought it was interesting. One of the books in particular caught my eye, Supreme Command, by Elliot A. Cohen. I bought it.

I watched a multi-part docudrama series on the creation of Spotify recently called the Playlist. You can find it on Netflix.

No fireworks to speak of yesterday. Mostly I did the one thing I love to do. Read a book. Almost all day. A sort of fitting book for the Fourth, Freedom’s Forge by Arthur Herman. It’s the story of how American business mobilized to help win World War II. Great story.