Several long-overdue days spent at the beach at a friend's apartment last week.
The second-best thing there (just behind the beach view) is his well-stocked bookshelf.
Tucked away between the big volumes was one of the best books I've encountered in years:
Benjamin Martin's France in 1938.
It truly is a page turner, because morbid curiosity compels the reader to read on to the next page's folly, enacted by a ridiculous cast of characters. And the thought kept occurring throughout: 'My mother's best friend died on the beach in Normandy, in great part to rescue these clowns from themselves. Mention the boy's name, and at age 83, she still breaks into tears...relieved to know she'll never truly know what transpired before poor Tom was sent to his death.'
Two cogent moments to share: Martin recalls the story of a search committee for a university presidency interviewing the final three candidates. Three candidates--a mathemetician, an economist, and a lawyer. One question--'How much is 2+2?'
The mathematician says: 'Four'.
The economist says: 'Maybe three, maybe five, it depends...'.
The lawyer says: 'What do YOU want the sum to be?'
(The lawyer gets the job.)
And, he reminds us of the cynical proverb: 'You don't always get what you pay for, but you always pay for what you get.'
Words to keep in mind, considering the economists and lawyers presently in control of our country...
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