Ruyi's World of Books & Stories

A good book is like a diamond mine that never runs out. It is priceless. Successful authors have mastered the art of carrying their readers along. This art is endearing. It leaves the reader yearning for more.   In David Ellison’s book, “Rambling on Borrowed Time”, I found happiness. It was hard to drop. We learn new tricks every single day. The book is what you expect from a brilliant teacher who has spent several years inspiring people.   During his thirty-six-year career, David Ellison was a teacher, mentor teacher, school administrator, education columnist and community activist. He worked in schools foreign and domestic, public and private, grades four through college.   His treks through five continents included volunteering in far-flung villages, and surviving harrowing adventures. He served as the New Haven Unified and the American Council of School Administrators Region VI Teacher of the Year in 1996. Now retired, Ellison reads, writes, hikes, kayaks,...

“Some people are strange. Do not test a strange man with a woman. You will be disappointed.  You will cry and gnash your teeth.  His eyes are everywhere.  He walks back and forth seeking whom to devour. He can give any girl a chase. If you want peace, do not give him the key to your heart.” It was a lazy sunset. I visited my friend. When I knocked on the door, his wife responded from the other side. She asked, “Who’s there?” Her voice was as soft as the savannah breeze. Smiled paraded my face. The person that I had really come to see was in. “It’s I, Dalmos,” I replied in enthusiasm. I just could not wait to get into the house. I hope that if my friend is not in as it is sometimes, we will see each other. Keep the feelings alive until we are too weak to continue. She always get the best out of me. Quickly, I threw the door open and walked into the house. Stood akimbo in the middle of the sitting room, I probed, “Where is your husband?”    ...

It is cruel to negotiate some roads. One could spend several hours and who cares if you die trying. It is a silencer. It hurts. It could bring a man to his knees. The loser is a meal to the bald vultures. In the weakness, I was strong, tough and mean. Regularly counting the cost of my valor has helped my poor soul to tread cautiously. My loss if I ever had any was taken into consideration because smart people draw strength from their fall. The cost of finishing strong and staying alive against all odds is mine to bear. I drove through Lawanson road, an old narrow way leading off Itire and I had my first sight of the Palace of the Itire Monarch. It was old-fashioned. It was African with a fine red painted threshold. It was old. Things had changed. Here the more things change, the more they stay the same. Every day is a journey. The day we close our eyes upon the light of the world, the journey ends. Most times, it is out of our hands to choose how we will embrace the next w...