This year’s new-fangled electronic high-demand Christmas “toy” really drives a dagger into my heart. And it’s not because I’m over 50, although I could wax nostalgic here and reminisce about playing board games like Monopoly or Chutes and Ladders or Clue without too much encouragement.

It’s just that I take this whole Kindle movement rather personally. MY BOOK is not, and most likely never will be, available on Kindle. Heck, it’s not even on Amazon. To get MY BOOK, you buy it from ME, exclusively. (See Order Form in sidebar.) I’m the one who slaved over every word of it, and I’m not inclined to “give” 40% to bookstores just for carrying it (standard industry percentage) or have it downloaded without my signature on the title page. What’s the point of selecting special fonts or designing the cover myself if no one will ever admire the creative work that went into it?

Yes, I know all the “green” arguments for producing books electronically, but I’m just not ready to give up the experience of physically turning the pages of a beloved book. Years ago, while teaching 4th grade, one of the stories in their reading text was a science fiction story called “The Fun They Had, ” by Isaac Asimov. It talked about the good old days when students had real books to read instead of reading from a computer screen.

Well, it’s not science fiction any more, and I can’t say I’m embracing this change. It’s not that I’m so old, mind you, it’s just that I’m a traditionalist. (Heck, there’s even politically incorrect tinsel on my Christmas tree.) I rejoice in the dog-eared pages of a well-worn book. It’s the sign of a book that someone obviously loved. I just don’t think I’ll ever succumb to curling up with a piece of electronic equipment on a tropical beach.

Call me old-fashioned, but I’ll never have to remember recharge my paperback.