The Cannon Book

"Are you done reading the cannon book, Daddy?"

"No, son."

"Are you done reading the cannon book yet?"

"No, son."

Adam loves books. So do I, of course. I didn't think a trait like that could be inherited. I can't quite figure out how that would be encapsulated by genes and alleles. But, there is no mistaking that both father and son love books.

The cannon book that he was bugging me about all weekend is a case in point. I had found a set of Bruce Catton's Pulitzer Prize winning series, The Army of the Potomac, at a used book store. (Yes, I visit used book stores. Surprised?) My dad has the set and I read the three volumes years ago.

I started reading them again over the long weekend. For Civil War history buffs, I highly recommend these books. Catton tells the story of the main Federal army and its ultimately victorious fight against "Bob Lee" and the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia. It's a story of bad generals and brave soldiers and it is told well, with an eye for the details, humorous and not, that made up daily life for the soldiers of the time. Here's a story I like, from the third volume, A Stillness at Appomattox:

There were the age-old attempts to wangle furloughs. An Irish private one day went to his regimental commander, explaining that his wife was ill and the children were not well and that it was necessary for him to make a short visit home. The colonel fixed him with a beady eye and said: "Pat, I had a letter from your wife this morning saying she doesn't want you at home; that you raise the devil whenever you are there, and that she hopes I won't grant you any more furloughs. What have you to say to that?"

Quite unabashed, the soldier replied that there were "two splendid liars in this room" and that he himself was only one of them: "I nivir was married in me life."

For some reason, Adam always wants what I am reading. "Cannon book. Cannon book."

Finally I was done and gave him the book. He took it to bed with him last night, carefully turning the pages until he fell asleep.

If only he could read!