Being at home with Dad this month has meant many trips down memory lane – some metaphorical, some actual. We went to Fall River several times – where both of us were born, though he lived there for over 70 years and I left at 21. I loved the city, though much of that is simply affection for the place I grew up in. It’s a poor city, and there’s not much going on there now, nor was there, to be honest, when I was a child.

Dad owned a bookstore there in the late forties and early fifties and it was symbolic of the kind of place it was that he eventually went bankrupt.

So we were both surprised and delighted to find another bookstore on Main Street when we were there yesterday. It’s a secondhand shop, too, and filled with an amazing collection of fine literature, poetry, history and drama. I bought two books I have been looking for for awhile – a collection of poems by Mary Oliver (whom I was introduced to by my friend Nicola) and The Johnstown Flood by David McCullough, my new hot favorite (I am reading John Adams now – it’s riveting).

But the really amazing thing about this shop was the two brothers who own it. Meeting them was a wonderful reminder that even a depressed city like Fall River contains jewels. Jeff and John were incredibly well-read and knowledgeable, passionate about their city and so eager to meet new people and share their love of books. They were thrilled to discover I was from India (Jeff asked if I had ever been to Meerut, scene of the great mutiny – he couldn’t believe Dehradun is just a few hours away from the city that lived in his imagination as a place of excitement and legend – I didn’t tell him it was a bit like Fall River!). They raved about the Flashman series (which my brother Owen has been telling me to read for years), and particularly about the one set in India. We had such a wonderful time chatting we almost missed Dad’s doctor’s appointment!