Cleaning More Bookshelves

I finished cleaning the Icelandic bookshelves. That ended me close to tears due -- in part -- to all the books inscribed to me by my father. So many of the books are old and fragile, books Father must have bought in Iceland during WWII. My passion for Iceland is kind of a joke, but also real -- and a fantasy. I am a Midwestern American, who grew up surrounded by Scandinavian Americans. That doesn't make me in any way an Icelander. My Iceland is a dream, as the Old Country is for many Americans. There's a lot wound up there, including a sense of loss and distance.

Fortunately I am moving on to science and dinosaurs. I love dinosaurs, but they don't bring me to tears.