Outside of a Dog

Is there a better problem to have than too many books to choose from? I was standing in a bookstore just off the square in Sonoma today, on a beautiful, sunny day, contemplating a stack of books I was about to purchase.

It made me think of the armloads of plastic-covered books I used to tote home from the air-conditioned library in the summers in Modesto, arranging and re-arranging them so that I could read the very best one last. Sometimes I'd sneak that one back on top if I couldn't wait. Holding the books in my hands, I anticipate with relish my private time to read, when I'll curl up in bed in my warm flannel pajamas and close the door on the rest of the world. Reading is one of my greatest pleasures.

Standing there in a beam of sun this afternoon, I started to question my potential purchase. All three books were intriguing, quirky stories with the right covers and accolades. But did I really need all three right this minute? Could I wait and save a little money? Then it occurred to me: three books is less than half the cost of a fancy dinner out, and they last ages longer, so actually, I'm saving money.

I know that isn't the most earth-shattering news in the world. I've not posted for a while, and I'm feeling a little rusty and self-conscious.

Did you know that in the 7th grade, I was a library aide? I loved books then, and I loved the library. It never occurred to me that it was an incredibly nerdy thing to do. My favorite job was covering new books in those Brodart plastic covers and gluing in the pockets for the check-out cards. I got to sit in a quiet room, with long, rectangular windows divided up into rows of panes looking out onto a wide lawn. The kind of windows that go all the way almost to the ceiling and are hinged to swing outward so that you open and close them with a long pole that has a hook on the end.

In my quiet room, I would open each book and look it over, looking through all of the pictures if there were any. Then I would remove the dust jacket, select the right size cover, neatly crease it to fit the paper, seal it and slide the cover's ends carefully back on the book.

Sometimes I would write out four-letter words in cursive on the backs of the card pockets with the glue, but not very often. Mostly I tried to make each new book look crisp and perfect in its protective cover. Did you know that a pristine dust jacket can add hundreds of dollars in value to a collectible first edition? Neither did I, until I checked out the site for the book cover company. I was googling it to make sure they were actually made of plastic.

That was the same library where I checked out and read "The Yearling" and cried and cried and cried. And where my friend Marc "Mocha" Davis and I laughed so hard no sound came out.

Hope this will do for now.

Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. - Groucho Marx