unexpected connections

This long weekend saw the end of a cold snap that nearly compelled me to begin a surely ill-fated project. I've been told that hanging wallpaper is the ultimate litmus test for any marriage. I fear that removing wall paper could pose a similar examination, particularly if the process is hastened by cabin fever. Fortunately for all, the mercury climbed to a balmy 32 degrees, allowing us the fresh air we were missing, as well as plenty of opportunity to romp and play in the 16 inches of freshly fallen snow. The potential crisis has been averted. Our dining room wall paper, and our marriage, remain intact.

The wall paper was not the only project beckoning me in these recent house bound days. I also spent some energy suppressing an inexplicable pull towards the John Adams title, whose bold white block letters stood out against a black binding, catching my eye and lingering with me at every pass by my bookshelf, now centrally located in the cozy reading nook in the dining room. The book was a gift from my dad, also an avid reader and lover of history. If it was titled Abigail Adams I would have read it long ago, but how much could I find to connect with in a man who lived more than 200 years ago? It's also entirely unreasonable to pick up this substantial biography when I'm anxiously awaiting the delayed arrival of Wally Lamb's latest novel, one which I'm sure to be deeply absorbed in. Despite these hesitations, John Adams finally wore me down by this weekend, but I surrendered only half-heartedly, under the pretense that I would cast him aside the moment Wally Lamb's book arrives.

I neglected to consider David McCullough's exquisite story telling capacity when I gave in and took this hefty biography in my lap. As if sensing my initial ambivalence, McCullough quickly divulges Adams' inner most feelings of self doubt, his concern over what direction to take in life, and his torment in balancing work and family. By doing this, he forged an atmosphere that has allowed me, as the reader, to create my own connection with Adams, a quite unexpected one. I'm not proposing that Adams and I are much alike - I'm sure he never pondered whether to cut his bangs or grow them out, a dilemma I have devoted considerable time to over the years - but I've grown more connected to him than I expected. I'm reminded that there are more similarities in our experiences than differences, despite time and circumstance. McCullough captures these similarities of the human spirit with masterful elegance. He has me through to the last page.