O' Henry and Jack London ~Bookshelf No. 9 ~ January 2021

 Upon the birth of our first son, my brother sent along a  'name-sake' book he selected to honor the occasion. My son, Jack,  is named for my grandfather, Jack Maison Woolf, and my husband's  Uncle Conrad 'Connie' Cebulski. But the book Drake selected was about another Jack altogether, represented well in,  Call of the Wild  by Jack London. While it would seem to some, a 'cute' gift, London was no stranger to either of Drake or myself. Our family has roots in Northern California where London, after many years of adventure, lived out his days. We have dear friends in Alaska, with whom, for a season, Drake lived and experienced a bit of the 'Last Frontier.' When we were both still  in high school, we visited my grandmother, Zada,  and Andy, the grandfather with whom I grew up, in Sonoma County, where she is now buried beside my Grandfather, Earl Freeman Bassett. He passed away when I was only a thought-- he knew I was to be born, but we never met. But South Dakota born Louis 'Andy' Anderson was a wonderful and loving husband to my grandmother in her last days in Napa .   He was the 8th grade educated -only- grandfather I knew, who once told me to get  'as much learning as I could, because it is the only thing they can't take away from  you.'  As many times as we could go back, we did. 

15 years old, Northern CA Coast

So we made the trek by train one Christmas across the country and through the Rockies to visit Grandma and Andy. While we were there, we ventured out to visit Wolf   House, the ruins of Jack London's home and final resting place of he and his  beloved mate, Charmian. 

Books tend to inform, shape our view of life. London's tend to inform, enlighten, and sometimes darken. His nihilistic view of life, and his perception of humans as 'just another species,' brought about some amazing stories, including, 'To Build a Fire.' But these stories do not enlighten one to see God but describe a limited view of the created man, seen not as a unique creature, but another soul-less animal among animals.  Adam Andrews said it best though. To understand nihilism, it is wise to ask a nihilist, and who better to read than Jack London. 

While I can see a handful of personal connections to the book, the best would be how well my son cuts to the marrow of an issue. He is not living in a state of denial and is like London, and every other young man, making his way in the wild of his day.  So this book still stands on the family bookshelf, in honor of his birth and in appreciation to the canon of Jack London. 

Our second son, Henry Robert, was named for his grandfather, Robert 'Papa  Bob' Sherman. As we, Eric and I, made our way to California for another return to the region of both of our families homeplace, we would determine the first name for our son to be Henry. We both just liked it. We both had no other name in mind at the time, and it just stuck. I thought of the book by O'Henry Dad had given me some years ago, which included the story of 'The Gift of the Magi.'  That story seems to resonate more clearly after more years of marriage than fewer. Caring and giving seem to grow sweeter after experiencing  years of togetherness in both struggle and success. Henry's arrival in our life came at a time when we thought we were a family of three. We did not know we were to gather up our own 'Red Chief' among the sunflowers and garlic from the Sacramento Valley. But this blondie blue-eyed boy would prove every bit of the story, 'The Randsom of Red Chief,' the humorous tale of a boy picked up by kidnappers who eventually bring him back. Henry has snuck and sneaked and generated quiet chaos since the day he was born.   'Benign neglect' and 'free range' approach to parenting became essential in raising Henry. His sense of independence and strong will have taken me to places I never dreamed I'd go, and continue to fuel the fire of our family  when even the kindling on the hearth is soaked. 

From my own text, O. Henry, Ransom of Red Chief 

So accidental as these 'name-sake' books may seem, I believe there is a providential essence to each. While Jack is not a nihilist, he seeks the very essence of everything that is found in the wild North West. He would have embraced the Gold Rush and camped by a fire in the wilderness, with a dog for his only companion. My Henry has been lost a million times to us (on the beach, at the park, at church...) but he has never been lost to himself. My little clove of garlic finds his way and persists as high as the sunflowers we saw as we drove away from the hospital with this new babe in tow. 

Yes, writers of books inform our souls, give us guiderails for our thoughts, enlighten our traditions, even across centuries and continents to calm and complete the persons we become.   I love seeing these books side by side on my bookshelf. I'm thankful and at peace when I think through the details of each uniquely designed child with their uniquely  created souls. The books that bear their names connect me to possibilities that I can layer with my life experiences, created by an author I've never met nor shall, save only through the literature they left behind.

 I'll take it.