Harry escape

The longer I am exposed to the brutal bleeding edge of popular culture, the greater comfort I take in more antiquated and sedate pursuits. Like many parents with children of a certain age, I rediscovered the pleasures of reading aloud through the adventures of Harry Potter, wizard-in-training at Hogwart's School. The series has outlasted our daughter's residence at home, but the habit of picking up each new book and reading it aloud has stuck. In fact, we re-read the fifth book in preparation for seeing the movie released last week, and the sixth, to bring us back up to speed for the final book, due out with screaming hoopla on Saturday. We read aloud in the car, spelling each other at the wheel, and read aloud in the kitchen, trading the cutting board back and forth. We read aloud in the living room, when taking a break from the hundred channels of mind-numbing cable, and read aloud in bed--which can lead to odd dreams and the need to go back over some pages.

One of the beauties of the process is that it seems tailor-made for the long-married. After thirty-odd years, one tends to use up all possible conversational gambits. You can always talk about the day's news, but after a while, yelling at the radio and muttering obscenities to the inbox--though gratifying when shared with a loved one--is incompatible with sound cardiac health. A mutual reading session, on the other hand, shares all the features of companionable conversation, with none of the stress of figuring out what to talk about--a real blessing after a long day in the frazzle of cyberspace. When we have worked our way through to the stunning conclusion--some time next week, probably--it will be soon enough to engage one another on the pressing issues of a serious relationship. Such as what to read next.