After writing some comments on the Depression 2.0, I spent some time thinking about Joseph Campbell. (If you don't know who he is, Google him.)

About nine months before Avadore was born I was reading Joseph Campbell. (This isn't that uncommon.) He was talking about when the Depression hit how he went into the woods and stayed in a cabin for about five years. He read and wrote and read and wrote. He'd write publishers, asking for books, which they'd send to him and he'd promise to pay them after the Depression was over and he got some money. He said during that time people would just do things like that. Need a book? Here, take it. Pay me later.

Imagine anyone doing that nowadays... (Which I did for a while, btw. Not five years, but for about one before more responsibilities came my way. It was wonderful. You should try it sometime.)

Also, the thought of going off and writing and reading and thinking for five years just because you could and there was nothing you had to do or anything better to do. Better than being an Oakie (like my husband's paternal grandmother), eh?