But that it is grist for the mill offor another column that I may yetwrite some day. But at least I go through the motions of attempting to mitigate the household whirlwind that always accompanies the advent of the great holiday of freedom and redemption. Since I have acquired a sizable library of books over the years, this is no small task. I am a procrastinatorby nature when it comes to executing household chores. Nevertheless, I have a great sense of anticipation when it comes to the pre-Pessah cleaning of my books and placing them in correct order on my library's shelves.
Books are memories.
I remember the circumstances and places where I purchased most of my books. I can identify which are the books of my youth and spring and which are the ones I bought in my later years. I remember that this is the book that I used when studying with this particular holy teacher of mine and, even though he is now long since gonefrom the woes of this world, he is still alive to me as I again open and look into that book. I carefully dust the two books that I have from my grandfather's library and remember the piece of sugar that he put in my mouth when, as a child, I correctly interpreted the words of Rashi for him. That sweetness has never departed from me.