I could write a book on unfinished books

   Around our home, I’m known as the “finisher.’’

    Need the dishes put away?  At 6-4, I handle the ones on the top shelf. No step stool required.

    Can’t finish your steak? Pass your plate. I’ll make it disappear.

    Is the clothes hamper too heavy? I’ll lug it down the stairs. I might as well start a load of wash, too.

    I am the finisher with one glaring weakness – I don’t complete books.

    I have a small library populating the nightstand near my bed, as if it were some kind of magic zone that would inspire me to diligently turn pages. The positioning of the book stack is well-intentioned, but it’s not working. What I really need is some kind of portal like the looking glass in “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’’ or the wardrobe from “The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe,’’ something that will divorce me from the Internet, allow me to sit and concentrate, and take my mind off the unabridged list of things I undertake each week. My books are a casualty of this hyperactivity.

   At some point in retirement, many of us are guilty of this phenomenon. We take on too much and put our own pleasures (books) on a backburner while we cross off items from our to-do list. The guilt kills  me whenever I eye the book stack.

   On top was the signed copy of “Attack From Within: How Disinformation is Sabotaging America’’ by Barbara McQuade. We worked together for one year on the sports copy desk of the Rochester morning newspaper before she enrolled in law school at the University of Michigan. After several years as U.S. attorney for the Eastern District of Michigan under President Obama, she wrote her book how democracy and public institutions are threatened by disinformation, and in many cases outright lies, that undercut confidence in government.

   McQuade even mentioned Mary and I in the acknowledgments, citing how we supported her and made her feel welcome at the outset of her career. You would think that would be motivation to race through her book. I got through the first two chapters and it read like all the hijinks and deception the far-right employs every day in Washington and the nation. I intend to finish it, but a May blizzard would surely speed the process.

   OFA graduate Colin Merna, a mainstay of the morning basketball games at my local YMCA, handed me a book in November entitled “How Basketball Can Save the World’’ by David Hollander. It’s filled with insights from the NYU professor and author about the principles of the game – teamwork, competitiveness, sharing and unity – and how they would translate into societal improvements.

   “I only have a small collection of books on my shelf,’’ Merna said, “and they fall into three categories — special books that I may read again, books I will make each of my kids read, and books that I hope to pass on to someone else.”

   “That book I gifted to you was passed to me. In addition to the satisfaction of finishing the book, there is enjoyment in passing it on to a target who I think will like it. The other choice is to put it on a shelf until I die.” 

    I might need a full-court press to get into Chapter Two before he picks his pallbearers.

    There were plenty of gifts. Mary gave me “Oath of Honor’’ by Liz Cheney two Christmases ago. It’s never been opened. It will catalog all the misdeeds and misinformation examined by the January 6^th committee; it seems I’ve already read all this during my daily tour of mainstream news websites.

    I have a signed copy of “Where They Fell’’ by Bob Marcotte, a former Rochester newspaper colleague. He painstakingly researched the contributions of 17 local regiments and artillery batteries during the Civil War. I intend to read it, but …

   I feel the most guilt about the books given to me by my son, Liam. I did get through the opening chapters of “Bag Man’’ by Rachel Maddow, the story of how former Maryland governor Spiro Agnew took bribes and kickbacks, including during his term as U.S. vice president under Nixon.

    Liam has been generous during Santa’s annual push:

• “Five Came Back: A Story of Hollywood and the Second World War’’ by Mark Harris.
• “G-Man: J. Edgar Hoover and the Making of the American Century’’ by Beverly Gage.
• Two books by Stephen King and the DVD copy of “That Championship Season.’’ Members of a state basketball champion gather for a 20^th reunion and confront an uncomfortable truth. The cast is loaded with stars — Robert Mitchum, Martin Sheen, Bruce Dern, Stacy Keach and Paul Sorvino – but they haven’t inspired me to sit still for 2 hours and 8 minutes.
• I even bought myself a copy of “The Big Lebowski’’ with its heavyweight cast – Jeff Bridges, John Goodman, Sam Elliott, Julianne Moore, Steve Buscemi, John Turturro, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Tara Reid – but dude, I can’t find the time.
   

   Truthfully, the problem extends beyond books. I got the family piano tuned because I was going to teach myself how to play. I haven’t mastered “Chopsticks.’’

   I decided to learn Spanish to engage families in our school district. No mas.

   I go to the golf driving range in hopes of breaking 80, but my driver remains a scattergun. Fore!

    Add in Parish Council and attending Wednesday morning Mass, managing the thrice-weekly basketball game at the Y, making and giving away apple pies, building and delivering beds for needy children, reffing high school lacrosse and basketball and writing a weekly newspaper column. I’ve pinpointed the problem – I’m not the finisher, I’m the starter.

                Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/