My original plan for Saturday was to meet my friend Ray from Houston and his kids at the Texas State Fair. It looked to be the best of fair days, cool and sunny. But that meant it was also the best of reading in the backyard days, and so that’s what I did. I felt some pangs of regret as I lay in the wicker loveseat under my climbing rose beside my herb garden, because I could hear the whistle of the old steam engine from the fair, and even the occasional musical act. But the library book I had started was so good, and so I read until it started to sprinkle late in the day, and then said smugly to myself “well, good thing I didn’t go to the  fair!”.

The book was (I finished it last night indoors) “The Boy Who Fell Out of the Sky” by Ken Dornstein. Great book, recommended. Briefly, it’s a memoir about the author’s brother, who was killed in the explosion of Pan Am Flight 103, aka the Lockerbie bombing. Now sensational as that story could be, it’s not about the bombing, but about the author trying to piece together his older brother from the copious (understatement) notebooks he kept in his quest to become a writer. The video on the book’s website explains this main theme, but the story, as told by the younger brother, is really a very effective tale of siblings, ambitions, expectations and failure, and what people go through when they try to make sense of a sudden death.

Anyway, I had breakfast today with Ray and his kids, and it sounds like the fair was crowded, the line for the fried butter (yes) was long, and the rain came too soon. At least that’s what I tell myself, and I do have another two weeks to fit in a fair visit.