Many, many years ago I went out on a first date with a man who worked in the same mall that I did. Soon after we sat down to dinner, I found out that not only did he take a plethora of recreational drugs; he was in fact a drug dealer. At that time I was a tad on the conservative side in that area and was a bit freaked out. I have since moved to many tads conservative in that area. He was a sweet, sweet man, but I still remember him pouring out assorted pills in his hand. He had a drug to create whatever mood he wanted for the moment.
Fast forwarding to this week, I offered to bring over the first books in The First Ladies’ Detective Series by Alexander McCall Smith to a friend who is recovering from surgery. She answered with a quick “no thanks.” Nothing much happens in the books. Who cares, I thought; I like how I feel when I read Smith’s books. I feel connected with the world. I want to hug strangers and tousle the hair of small children. Lately I have been reading the Big Mike Series by Garrison Allen. What a balm for the dark funk I have been in. The characters are so wonderfully lightly bawdy. How can you not smile! Going to a library for me is like my date pouring out the pills in his hand. What kind of mood do I want to me in?
I tend to like to think that my mood enhancers are kinder and gentler. They don’t involve potential damage to major organs—other than my back when I tote too many home—and no innocent people are hurt. Well, maybe a few library patrons have had to jump out of my way when I have stalked a bit too enthusiastically towards the shelves.