Good Night John boy reminded me of my Mother

 In the old house on Cedar Grove Farm, during the years of my childhood, a nightly ritual took place which I now realize was one of the most formative, positive, and powerful experiences of my life.   After spending an entire day lovingly engaged in the seemingly impossible and certainly endless tasks of raising seven children and maintaining a huge farm house, Mother would come into the room where my brothers slept on bunk beds, my sisters and I would in pile onto the beds, for the nightly read,  the boys were the youngest.No professor of world literature could have bested Mother's selection of reading material for its human significance, global themes, and pure entertainment value.  Here are some of the works I recall her sharing.  The Adventures of Huckleberry Fin,   The back of the north wind, The Princess and the Goblins,  My Side of the Mountain, The Bible.We were transfixed and were transported by the drama, intensity, and passion Mother brought to the readings of great books.  As I glance back in the memory of my mind's eye, I see Mother animated, delighted, and lost within the life, action, and characters of those passages.   She became a fearsome and abusive Pap Finn on a furious and murderous drunk, the all knowing and somewhat sad yet peaceful voice of the North Wind, the wise voice of Jesus teaching the loving and non judgemental message of the beatitudes, and the adventurous and fearless voice of a runaway boy, housed comfortably in a hollow tree, learning to survive a winter in harmony with nature in the wilderness of the Catskill mountains.  Brought to life through the drama of Mother's voice, the likes of Huck Fin and the North Wind were some of my greatest and most beloved teachings.Why did she do it?  Why didnt Mother give up a few extra moments of well deserved and needed sleep, and instead park herself, with a book , in a chair near the bunk beds filled with 7 children and begin to read lengthy portions of formidable literature that always ended with us begging her to continue?  Mother shared these stories, these collections of words, ideas, themes, and thoughts simply because those were the things that inspired her and that she loved.Thanks Mom your readings and your love are nothing less than an internal flame in my life, a constant and rich frame of reference.  My entire world view, values, and any wisdom I may possess have been guided and formed by the experiences of your readings and love.Good Night Mommy I miss you... My Mother developed Alzheimer's in the mid 90"s she lived with me and I cared for her during her illness  not nearly as well as she cared for us,  I did my best.  She died at home with me, she was 82.  The day before she died, she quoted to me from my favorite part of Ode to a Sky lark, by Shelley.  She never lost that beautiful part of her self.  she was 82.