I can't do anything to alleviate the ranches being closed and if I say "we're all in this together" then someone will punch me in the nose through the wires of the internet. So here's the first paragraph of a column I read. It's a love letter to books, and writing in their margins. It's quirky - I like it: National Review 4/6/20, P. 24 At the Margins, Graham Hillard "If a new book is a monologue, a used book is a conversation. Underline a passage or write a note in the margin and you have left a message for future readers, or for future versions of yourself. As many book-owners can attest, such dispatches from the past can be both heart-warming and bizarre. I cannot open my copy of Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood without seeing a birthday greeting from my friend Hugh, who gave me the book as a present nearly 20 years ago. My paperback In Our Time, on the other hand, contains not only Hemingway's early stories but someone's failed attempt to add up the cost of pizza, beverages, and a night at a Sheraton hotel. Word to the wise: You've got to carry the three."
