Back in the 1970’s there was this thing on FM radio called “Desert Island Discs.” From time to time DJ’s would pose the question, “If you were stranded on a deserted island, which ten albums would you take?” A friend and I were reminiscing about this recently and she wondered about books. Along with my chosen ten albums, what three books would I take? Now that’s a tough choice. I’ve been a life long reader and have read many hundreds of books, but which three to choose?

My love of books dates back to my early childhood. When I first became a reader, my mom would take me and my older brother on weekly sojourns to the public library where I’d just devour books. My first “biblio-love affair” was with a series that featured a young boy named Danny Dunn. In each book, this kid would get into some sort of exciting science/nature based adventure. I found these tales irresistible and couldn’t get enough. Danny Dunn showed me that there’s magic in books, he started me down the road of reading, a road that opened up worlds of possibilities that I had only dreamed of. That journey continues to this day.

So…how do I possibly choose just three books to take with me to this hypothetical desert island paradise? There are record albums that I’ve listened to thousands of times. With the best of them (Let It Bleed, Abbey Road, Crosby, Stills and Nash…) I still hear new things. But books? I usually read a book once and am done with it. There have been the occasional rereads (I’ve read the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice and am contemplating a third go), but rarely do I revisit a book. When making my choices, I had to consider which books have spoken to me the loudest, which ones have had the biggest effects on my life, which books would I like to read over and over? So here goes nothing, my three books are as follows:

 At the top of my chosen trio is the counterculture classic, Tom Robbins’  Another Roadside Attraction. This was Robbins’ first novel and and my introduction to him. Getting turned on to Tom Robbins’ books has had a life changing effect on me. His psychedelic zaniness, strong and sexy female characters and profound Zen utterances have shown me that there’s a different way to live life, that there’s goodness and beauty and wonder and fun all around us if we just take the time to open our eyes, that to smile and laugh in the face of adversity is not a bad strategy, and that we absolutely must question authority. Robbins once described the crescent moon as “a clipping from a snowman’s toenail”…brilliant!

Next up is Kurt Vonnegut’s The Sirens of Titan. At one time or another throughout our lives we all come across a teacher who gives us a priceless gift, something that has enriched our lives. I am forever grateful to my high school English teacher Ms Nancy Friedlander, for it was she who introduced me to Kurt Vonnegut. As an impressionable 16 year old I was questioning everything and itching to bust out of small town New Jersey into the wider world. Vonnegut was like nothing that I’d ever read before, his humor, irreverence and world view struck a chord in me that reverberates to this day. The Sirens of Titan is an outlandish, time tripping and brilliantly original work of science fiction and unlike anything I’d read before or since.

My final choice is The World According To Garp by John Irving. This was his fourth novel and the point at which I jumped on the Irving bandwagon. I’m still traveling down that road today. Garp is the quintessential John Irving novel. It’s a sweeping epic spanning many years, there’s a “story within a story” and more twists and turns than a mountain road. Throughout his many novels, Irving has his finger firmly on the pulse of the joy and sorrow, tragedy and ecstasy of what it’s like to be human. In The World According To Garp, he seamlessly blends tragedy, comedy, chance encounters and fate into an unforgettable story. I read this book when I was in my twenties. Little did I know then that I would someday have children of my own and become just like the doting, worrying and loving dad that is T.S. Garp

So there you go. I had long ago chosen my ten albums, now I’ve got my three books. All I need now is a bucket of cold beers, sunscreen, my Tommy Bahama chair and a destination. I’ll send ya a postcard. In the meantime, tell me which three books you’d choose.

The Northern Mockingbird is so entertaining. From sunrise to sunset it sings incessantly and I have no idea what its actual voice sounds like. Its palette of sounds is seemingly endless: chirps, trills, whistles, peeps, coos and everything in between. You see the Northern Mockingbird is a mimic and there doesn’t seem to be another bird’s voice that it can not replicate. It will rattle off the songs of a scrub jay, white crowned sparrow, house finch and black phoebe in a staccato  burst that can last a minute or more. I read somewhere that mockingbirds have even been known to mimic the sounds of car alarms. Amazing, huh?

These birds are year round residents where I live so I see and hear them often. It’s in springtime that I appreciate them most though as that’s when their songs are especially vociferous and celebratory. On most spring mornings I find a mockingbird perched atop the tallest cypress tree in our backyard, catching the first rays of sun and welcoming the new day with its repertoire of  tunes. I never tire of listening to this bird sing. Like springtime itself, the mockingbird’s happy chirping fills my heart with joy, hope and a feeling that on this day, at this moment, all things seem possible. When the mockingbird is onstage, there’s no room for fear and negativity and all seems right with the world.

When I was in my mid-30’s, I shared a house near the beach in Santa Cruz with my girlfriend at the time Michelle and our close friends John and Diane. Our backyard was a green haven surrounded by tall shrubs and a mini-bamboo forest, it was often the setting for spring and summer parties. Many in our circle of friends were musicians, when we got together we’d fill this tranquil green space with our voices, guitars and drums. On one particularly golden Saturday in April, my friend Mark and I were deep into a spirited version of the Grateful Dead gem “Birdsong.” Throughout the entire song we were accompanied by a mockingbird. This tuneful little sprite seemed to have a real feel for what Mark and I were playing. As we jammed, it chirped and bebopped right along with us, weaving its voice in and out as the music flowed between us. Luckily, one of our friends recorded this human/avian duet. It was upon listening back that we were able to hear how perfectly the mockingbird’s song blended with our own. Also audible on the tape was the voice of our dear friend Suzy, who six years later  would succumb to ovarian cancer at the age of 36. She was a middle school teacher and an adventurous soul, who loved to travel and dance. Suzy was all flowing auburn hair, hazel eyes and acerbic wit, she squeezed every ounce of joy that she could out of life. She and I were good friends. For many years Suzy was a mainstay of our scene. She played congas and was usually part of our jam sessions. She left this world much too soon, her passing was a shock that left a gaping hole in our tightly knit little hippie confederacy.

So once again spring is upon us. The myriad voices of the Northern Mockingbird figure prominently in the soundtrack of the season. In the mockingbird’s song I always hear a little piece of Suzy and that luminous morning so many years ago when we made music with a mockingbird.