Today is Tolkien's Birthday. Yes, I am one of THOSE people. And now thanks to Peter Jackson's magic, so are many of you. Welcome. 2009 contained a mini-Tolkien pilgrimage with a fellow LOTR-head. Oxford, Tolkien's house, the Cotswolds, the Eagle and the Child and Wolvercote cemetery all done in a single day and much too quickly with no discovery time. Photos of this are in my FB photos.

I discovered Tolkien when I was 11. On vacation in MN with no libraries and no TV, we had only the limited books we carried with us or those in my grandparents small collection of mostly uber Catholic reading. Sharing books was mandatory for a family of book-eaters such as mine. Scrounging for something to read one day, my brother Jim flipped me a very beat up copy of The Fellowship that he had with him. Neither of us understanding the bond that book would create as it arced between us. I was 11 and he was 20 and our lives reflected that age gulf. Tolkien's magic for me is not just in his words, but in the way that beat up paperback flying thru the air that afternoon and landing in my lap gave Jim and I a place to share. A place that we STILL share.

If I close my eyes, I can still feel the heat on my back and the weathered dock slats under my 11 year old stomach as I dove into this beat up paperback. Can still smell the unmatchable smell of Pelican Lake. Still hear the lapping of the wavelets on the rocky shore. Can still feel the drowsiness of a 11 year old body lying in the MN July sun.

From that peaceful place, I launched out into an unknown world of Orcs and Hobbits, of dragons, dwarves and magic rings. Delightful in its languages and landscape. An adult fairy tale and my introduction to fantasy fiction - a genre I still devour. I can still remember pitching the book across the room (book whores NEVER treat the written word that way - EVER) when Gandalf fell with the Balrog in Moria. I'm sure that explains why the book was so trashed. Imagined many other hands had done the same in frustration. I also remember sheepishly retrieving the book because I HAD to know how the story ended. It ended about a week before we returned to a place of libraries and books is how it ended. That is probably the only time I have ever chafed and wanted to go home from there. Because I couldn't stand not knowing what happened to Frodo and Sam, to Merry and Pippin and to Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. They don't know me, but they are the unforgettable friends of my eleventh summer.