For the record, I’m a day late….
Jack London
I have to admit that I often choose author’s birthdays based on my own biases and personal preferences. As any literary enthusiast can relate, we all have our favorite authors. But there are certain names that hearken eras of life, often childhood memories, which have had a lasting impact. This is what happens when I hear the name Jack London. Traveler, gold prospector, partaker of fine alcoholic beverages, father, London wore many hats in life. When I mention The Call of the Wild or White Fang, how do you feel? Cold frosty winds chap my face, the frozen Five Rapids dangerously close to the left side of my dog sled, huskies straining under the weight of prospecting equipment and hardtack, braving the piercing jaws of frozen death for flakes of metal prized above life? Are we dogs or are we wolves? If we are dogs, what would cause us to become wolves? Jack London’s name alone creates this vast landscape of struggle, death and greed that pulsates through my frontal lobe. Read more »
