Library Notes
February 17, 2005
By Pansy Hundley, Librarian.
The other Monday, Spring came to Collin County, at least for one day, Valentine's Day come to think of it. It was one gorgeous day, windows open, house airing out, and the farmer came out in the Jones girls, at least.
My sister, Macky, of the green thumb, had already said she was going to spend the whole day out in her yards. I finished that sentence for her, by the mere observation that she would have to crawl in the house, by the time she quit, probably at dark.
Her garden, in which onions are already planted, has probably been worked somewhere, somehow, with the tiller. Her yards may have been mowed, with a push mower (she fooled with her riding mower, getting more disgusted than I do with mine, and gave it to Mark and Suzie about three years ago, and it's been running great almost every since. They had the carburetor seen to. Macky had paid to have that done also, but it must have been one of those cases where you pay for the work, but the work doesn't get done, or not done right. I've mowed with that mower many times on the week-ends in Oklahoma, mowing the back forty and Suzie doing the small yards with the push mower. That thing ran and mowed just great most of the time, with very little problem. Suzie felt bad and tried to give the mower back to Macky. But she wouldn't even talk about it.)
I'm sure that the second Jones girl, my sister Betty, is also out in her yard, mowing, chopping,, cutting, digging and looking at her husband over the top of her glasses when he tries to tell her how to do it. He knows that is his signal to close his mouth and leave the area.
You men do realize that when a woman, who worked like a man growing up, who has lived on her own for years and learned to do almost everything by herself, does not appreciate it when a man steps up and acts like some men do? They try to direct her on something she's been doing for ten or fifteen years all on her own.
So, on this gorgeous day, the dust is flying, if there's enough dry ground around. The weeds are being pulled up by the hair of their heads. It has been demanded of the flowers to stop lazing around and start putting out green shoots and looking alive.
The Jones girls, in Allen, Celina and Farmersville are on the prowl in their yards. Just leave 'em alone, don't try to tell them how to do it, unless they ask. And then, don't talk to 'em like they don't have good sense. And you know that some men do that, but not for long with the Jones girls, and not for a second time.
This Jones girl started this writing to tell you about the dust and weeds flying in her yard, and got side-tracked, thinking about the sisters doing what she was doing on this same day. It was my intent to inform you about cutting back my roses. But, since sisters interfered we'll cut roses next week.
It being Valentine's Day, the only way I could lay hands on anything to do with a rose, was to cut the stinkin' rose bushes back! My Miranda, my climbing rose, my John F. Kennedy rose and the others , the pink ones who shall remain nameless, that I bought last year, are all near to the ground now, ready to spring forth with gorgeous blooms for me to enjoy the entire summer. I say --- are READY TO SPRING FORTH WITH GORGEOUS BLOOMS!!! I hope they heard me, cause I sure do love those roses.
The Rose Wagon has again failed to rise to the occasion. Alas, it has not stopped at my house, even if it had clear, concise directions. People are getting worse and worse about their job responsibilities. We may just have to let the Rose Wagon go and find its' self another job, delivering milk or something.
Be that as it may, let's gather our wits about us and talk about a book, shall we? Let us speak of Dean Koontz and "Life Expectancy", "his bestselling blend of nailbiting intensity, daring artistry and storytelling magic." If you're still with me, and you can stand all of this excitement, let's go!!!
"Jimmy Tock comes into the world on the very night his grandfather leaves it. As a violent storm rages outside the hospital, Rudy Tock spends long hours walking the corridors between the expectant fathers' waiting room and his dying father's bedside. It's a strange vigil made all the stranger when, at the very height of the storm's fury, Josef Tock suddenly sits up in bed and speaks coherently for the first and last time since his stroke.
What he says before he dies is that there will be five dark days in the life of his grandson -- five dates whose terrible events Jimmy will have to prepare himself to face. The first is to occur in his twentieth year; the second in his twenty-third year; the third in his twenty-eighth; the fourth in his twenty-ninth; the fifth in his thirtieth.
Rudy is all too ready to discount his father's last words as a dying man's delusional rambling. But then he discovers that Josef also predicted the time of his grandson's birth to the minute, as well as his exact height and weight and the fact that Jimmy would be born with syndactyly -- the unexplained anomaly of fused digits -- on his left foot. Suddenly the old man's predictions take on a chilling significance.
What terrifying events await Jimmy on these five dark days? What nightmares will he face? What challenges must he survive? As the novel unfolds, picking up Jimmy's story at each of these crisis points, the path he must follow will defy every expectation. And with each crisis he faces, he will move closer to a fate he could never have imagined. For who Jimmy Tock is and what he must accomplish on the five days when his world turns is a mystery as dangerous as it is wondrous -- a struggle against an evil so dark and pervasive, only the most extraordinary of human spirits can shine through."