Small Moment

I am presently reading (what else is new?) Dreamland: The True Tale of America's Opiate Epidemic by Sam Quinones. Ohio has been hit very hard by the opiate epidemic, not only from the trafficking coming out of Mexico but also from pill mills (Ohio was an early national leader in the creation and proliferation of those, although this state has since passed legislation regulating them), so the topic is of great interest to me. And Portsmouth, Ohio, a city I have passed through countless times in my life en route to Kentucky, is the epicenter of the book.

Over breakfast this morning, Warren asked what he thought was an innocuous question: why Dreamland? (I had previously mentioned that Dreamland was a massive swimming/recreation complex in Portsmouth, Ohio, back in the old days.) How does that tie into the topic of the book?

Well, that set me off on a discursive discussion of the book: the title, the author's style, the history of opium, late nineteenth century patent medicines, Mexican ranchos, how Quinones got interested in this story, what Dreamland meant to Portsmouth, and so on.

Then I looked down at my bowl of oatmeal and said "and now my breakfast is getting cold. I better stop talking and start eating."

Warren looked at me. "I was almost ready to say 'all right, April' to get you off the book."

I smiled as I dug a spoon into oatmeal. "But I was talking about books. And books are more important than food. At least to me."

Thomas Jefferson famously said  "I cannot live without my books." I cannot either. And thank you, my dear Warren, for understanding that.