Zane Grey and my brother

In his youth, one of my older brothers was an avid reader. I should qualify that. Paul read and read the same books over and over, constantly.

I can picture him still, decades and decades later, his skinny body perched on a wooden stool next to the refrigerator, his feet set firmly across the rung, his head down close to the paperback in his lap and his fingers close to his mouth. (He was a nail biter.)

It’s not so much the image that evokes memories as it is my brother’s focus on his reading. He read nothing but Zane Grey novels and it didn’t matter if this was his first, second or fifth reading. There was no way to divert his attention from that damned book – short of smacking him somewhere.

We could call his name, ask a question, call his name louder, make a statement, call his name even louder, ask another question, shout his name loud enough to wake every baby in the complex. Paul never heard. (That's where the smack came into the picture.)

Thinking about this now, there’s a lesson to be learned. I realize I have to read something by Zane Grey. I have to find out what it was about Grey’s characters and his plots that consumed Paul to the point of deafness to the world.

Amazon has a number of Zane Grey titles in print version and for the kindle. (I’ve already selected two.) Now, all I need is the time to read them. (Sigh.)