living books

I was previewing Our Young Folks' Josephus on mainlesson.com, trying to narrow down my gigantic ancient history & literature booklist to eight or so titles for next year. We know of course, it says, about Abraham. How about his father, Terah?

The name Terah, one I hadn't thought about in years, caused a rush of sense memories and most bold feelings, as though I personally interacted with Terah daily during the days of his life. For a brief second I wondered if I was having a schizophrenic and/or religious moment, but then I remembered I had read a few books that turned Bible history into absorbing narratives: Adam and His Kin by Ruth Beechick and The Book of God by Walter Wangerin. My "memories" of Terah are from one or the other of those.

I'm feeling grateful for the years I got to spend as a teenager, reading my way through the Greenleaf Press catalog of enthusiastically written historical narratives. I want to give the same to my sons, but the older two just don't seem to care. They have inherited from their stepbrothers the attitude that caring is uncool, and when I try to read them any book that involves making an emotional connection with the rest of humanity, they put up a wall and then call it boring.

Since they stopped visiting with their stepfather, some of that is starting to come down. I am becoming a grand believer in sheltering kids. I'd rather they have no friends besides each other, if their friends are going to teach them to sarcastically deride all that is meaningful and powerful.

I'm hoping I can cure my sons of this attitude before their adolescence is over so we can enjoy a few good historical novels together. In the meantime, what do I do? Keep reading and hope it gets through despite the distance they insist on creating?