A Few Degrees of Separation

Several weeks ago, I wrote about a “six degrees of separation” incident, involving a some folks that knew someone who knew someone I knew.

I’ve come across another experience where one thing I was interested in turns out to be closely related to something that seemed, at the beginning, not related at all.

I read somewhere, lately, about a mystery novel that A. A. Milne wrote. We think of him primarily as the writer of the Winnie the Pooh books. Well, I supposed that not everyone thinks of A. A. Milne, in any way at all. But, really, you should.

Wikipedia describes this mystery novel (The Red House Mystery) as a “‘locked room’ whodunnit by A. A. Milne, published in 1922. It was Milne’s only mystery novel.”

That all sounded interesting to me, so I checked the book list at my local library and found that, yes, oh yes, they had a copy of that book. The book itself didn’t seem quite that old; I checked the copyright page which included the 1922 information as well as the 1950 renewal copyright. So, it’s an older book, but not a first edition.

I took it with me last Monday and Tuesday, to appointments at the retina center and at the ophthalmologist’s office. There’s much less waiting time at doctor’s offices these days, as they’re limiting how many folks can be sitting around in their waiting rooms, but there’s still time to read. The ophthalmologist’s nurse asked me what I was reading, and I explained that it was a mystery novel by the man who wrote the Winnie the Pooh books. A book for older readers. I said that, as a book written just a couple of years shy of a century ago, the style’s a little different, but it was interesting.

Then, just yesterday, I got a message that a Cloud Library book I’d requested was available. The title is Eight Perfect Murders. I started listening to it right away. The premise is that a mystery bookstore owner wrote a blog about the eight books that he regarded as each having a “perfect murder” described. He’s being interviewed by an FBI agent who is trying to solve a series of murders, and she sees some similarities between the books that the store owner has listed and the crimes that have been committed. He’s intrigued and begins to talk about each of the books he chose, beginning with (you saw this coming, right) The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne. “WHAT!?!?!’ A book I’d never heard of, ever, less than a week ago, is now part of an investigation that includes that book.

Seems like a big leap, huh, from mysteries and books to hospitality. Maybe you’re a person who jumps easily into new situations. Maybe you’re a person who waits and analyzes and plans and thinks before starting anything different from the usual. Thinking about things is important. Thinking about things for such a long time that the opportunity passes and the opportunity is lost, is easy but not efficient. Looking for connections can strengthen connections (“I’ve read that book, too!” “I shopped at that toy store when I was a child,” “Did we live around the corner from each other?”). I need to do a better job of looking for ways to include, to invite, to encourage. Of course, it’s also harder to do from six feet away, but a smile, a wave, letting someone go first, a phone call, an actual note or letter, dropped in the mail, are ways to show kindness and hospitality.

And, from the back yard:

Cloud Library books are perfect for listening to, on my phone, while I’m working outside. So, by Friday afternoon, I could be finished with it. I’ll know whodiddoit, and how that Red House situation got resolved.