Our daughter is going through a box of her dad's books in her academic field. There are a few miscellaneous hardcovers that went in, clearly just to fill the box.

One of these extras is "The Sword in the Stone," checked out of the Evanston, Illinois library by my father in 1943. (He used to laugh that he'd been a repentant thief and when he realized he'd never returned it, he'd sent them a check for more than its value.)

I shared with our daughter how at one time I'd calculated how much he owed in overdue book fines every New Year's Day and it had kept me busy for a good long while--because calculators hadn't been invented yet.

She literally could not conceive of a time when I had to multiply the daily fine by 365 by the number of years.

I'm so old.