I can recommend a pleasant read. It’s not new. But you know, the older you get, the more you start to realize that new doesn’t necessarily mean improved. I live in a small town, and my family is from the hills of rural West Virginia. I consider myself blessed to have had a good bit of exposure to places that have been a bit slower at “changing with the times” because it allowed me to taste something of America that has been dying what was at first a slow death, but now, well, I don’t have to tell you what I mean if you’re a regular here.
The book is “A Life on the Road”. It is written by Charles Kuralt, whom I recall watching on his “On The Road” program on CBS as a kid . He had a long and successful career in journalism and broadcasting, from newspaper, to radio, and then of course, television. He says he was born with rambling in his blood. And he did travel the world, only to find his greatest adventures right here at home in the good old U.S. of A., discovering poets and inventors, daredevils and heroes in plain folk in small towns, big cities, back woods, and tiny boroughs, farms and factories, you name it, all across this amazing nation.
It’s refreshing and heart-warming to remember those good things. I’ve always been a sap about stuff like that, as it is, more likely to read Reminisce and Readers Digest than People or Vogue, even in my teens and twenties.
So, if you like a pleasant trip down memory lane as much as I do, you’ll probably enjoy this book. I’d never read any of his books, of which he apparently wrote several, as well as having narrated several of A.A. Milne’s Pooh stories.