Farewell to a Fine Bookstore...and Place

"As an artist, you are a representative human being—you have to believe that in order to give your life over to that effort to create something of value. You're not doing it only to satisfy your own impulses or needs; there is social imperative. If you solve your problems and speak of them truly, you are of help to others, that's all. And it becomes a moral obligation."
— Stanley Kunitz, The Wild Braid, p. 103


4/24/09

Went to Books, Etc today on Exchange Street. Closing their shop today after 37 years in that spot. The children’s section was nearly empty, few books but still many good ones.

Picked up a book about growing houseplants from vegetable scraps and seeds in the kitchen, Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche, and Last Child in the Woods. Picked up some free demo Putomayo CDs. They had food out on the counters.

There was a bit of a party atmosphere, but the guy behind the counter seemed to be tired of the “we’re going to miss you” comments, which is what I said. Downtown, Longfellow Books is the only retail bookstore still standing that sells new books.

Seeing the bookstore routed does something to my insides that cannot quite be described in normal words. The storehouse emptied. The long-term neglect by the purchasing populace in favor of buying at a discount online 24/7. We can’t replace these places.

Places. We’re always talking about web site addresses. If we were to drive there what would we find?

Analog Book Shopping

"Confined in the dark, narrow cage of our own making which we take for the whole universe, very few of us can even begin to imagine another dimension of reality."
— Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, p. 42



April 2009

Stopped at Longfellow Books on the way to the office. Had my birthday card from them worth 25% off a single title. Headed straight for the Buddhism shelf where all the Pema Chodron books are face out, thinking I might pick up another one.

Someone I've never met, in wheel chair facing the other direction, volunteers, “Let me know if you need me to move. I can’t drive and read at the same time.” I said no problem. He immediately offered: “I love to read. I feel sorry for people who can’t read.” He asked me what I like to read. We chatted for a bit. He was cheery and friendly.

What I bought: a Portland architecture book for my mother. The Year of Living Bibically. A children’s book that won the Caldicott. Wild Braid:A Poet Reflects on a Century in the Garden , by Stanley Kunitz.

Inauguration Day, Part II

January 20, 2009
Inauguration Day, part II

After watching and celebrating at Brenda’s, we walked back home. Charlie stayed out for a bit with me, Baxter went in. I spent about 45 minutes scraping ice off the back porch. The deep untouched snow in the backyard etched in places where footprints had cut through to the back gate.

I kind of wished I had a radio to bring out to listen to NPR while scraping ice off the deck (the thick kind that forms under the icicles). But then I thought, that’s not possible. This is what’s happening right now: the white snow, the sunshine, the icicles dripping, the ice scraping off, sometimes in sheets, mostly in scraggly bits. The vivid blue sky. A beautiful inauguration day. Here in my adopted home state of Maine. Letting the mind digest the intensity of what we’d been listening to, watching. Not overloading. Not incessantly repeating. Not communicating with people I cannot see or hear using an electronic device.
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Today would have been a good day for wikipedia. Yesterday too. I think about investing in a real encyclopedia set even though it would need to be updated in 5 minutes. Then I remember world book on the computer. Maybe this is in our future. But I still have missed spending days with the old encyclopedias. Remember the encyclopedia salesmen? Remember enjoying a good book?
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When the kids have questions we would have googled, I write them down to address later. There’s a mindfulness to that.
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Today I phoned people when I thought of them instead of facebooking, texting, emailing. I called my cousin Sue when I thought how our grandmother Helena would have LOVED today, and also her mother Katherine. She was totally touched that I called. Later I realized it’s because people don’t do this so often. I phoned my aunt and uncle, and of course mrk in Seattle, who sounds like he might have a new girlfriend because he didn’t really have time to talk (!).
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I seem to be recovering from my weather prediction addiction. Now I’m content with sun/no sun; general temperature range; precipitation or no; wind or no. I don’t need to obsessively call the weather line the way I would obsessively check the weather online.
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A possible name for what this journal is (even though it’s on the computer): Anablog. Or the Antiblog. As in, not a Blog.
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Walking to the Rosemont Market tonight between the piles of snow (there's so much now that it’s hard to find a place to put it). I’m becoming a more concentrated version of myself again. Walking along that evening road, amidst all that snow, not available to anyone by the digital networks except maybe Jeff.

This adrenaline surge brought to you by Crane Stationary

still Jan 2, 2009

Stopped by Paper Patch, stationary store on Exchange Street. Struggling-along little place. Standing in front of the Crane Stationary section (small, but there) I felt a surge of energy, exhilaration almost flow through me. At the checkout I asked the shopkeeper if she had fountain pen cartridges and she referred me to another shop (which I couldn't ultimately find).

When I explained my project, her eyes lit up like someone had just given her a pony. There was hope in her face.

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Stopped by Longfellow Books and asked after postcard books and the book Brenda mentioned yesterday about the folks who spent a year trying not to buy anything. The booksellers looked it up for me.

I explained this project and the guy who was helping me said, "My job would be impossible without the internet. I just looked this up online for you." He seemed almost insulted. I said, "yes, but I had to talk to you, and I've never talked to you before." That seemed to help. Later I wished I'd said, "Yes, but because of this, I'm buying books from YOU." Of course couldn't leave without a gorgeous library edition of Walden and a half-price copy of The Polar Express.

***Must be careful not to spend too much money while doing this project.***