Today was Wednesday but I worked at Logos. My day has changed from Tuesday to Wednesday...about 1% less convenient for me (because of the days when Walt goes to the SF Symphony, always on Wednesdays, which means I'll have to get myself home on those days--fortunately not many of them), but 99% not really a change from Tuesdays.
Since I needed a photo for my Photo a Day of my 70th year, I decided to take pictures around the store--not too difficult, since it's so small. This is standing at the far wall and looking at the desk where I sit all the time.
I chose my book for the day, deciding I'd read what I could here and then take it home to finish, returning it next week.
I was half way through the book before I realized I'd read it before (apparently in 2006). But that's OK because I can only remember one peripheral thing about it, so it's like reading a new book.
While sales at the store were minuscule today, there were the usual share of customers. When I got there to relieve Peter, there was a woman sitting on the floor in front of the desk browsing through the gardening section. She finally chose two books, one of which was called "The $64 tomato." I commented on the title (being a sucker for really good tomatoes) and she started telling me that her passion was gardening and that she spent entirely too much money on gardening and how right now she is living in an apartment and desperately seeking a way to satisfy her passion for gardening.
As she was leaving two guys came in who, I swear, must have been 12' tall. They were even taller than my friend Ron, and that's hard to be. They wandered around for awhile and didn't buy anything. Shortly after, a girl about the same height came in, also wandered around for awhile and didn't buy anything. Maybe we don't appeal to tall people.
But we don't appeal to short people either. Three people who were as short as the first group were tall came in, mom, daughter and daughter's husband. They also didn't buy anything (it was a great day for lots of customers and very few sales).
A group of woman stood at the front window and looked at the books on display and then started looking through the bargain books outside ($1 each), one woman actually shouted "Oh WOW!" as she found a book she liked, The other women came in looking for books about knitting but didn't find anything.
A retired teacher came in to ask if I thought the store could use a story hour for children. I told him he'd have to talk with Susan and Peter, but we chatted for awhile about the stories he has been writing and reading, apparently successfully, to local school groups.
Two heavy set bearded guys came in together and set off my gaydar. Were they "bears"? Dunno. One spent a lot of time browsing in the humor section while the other walked around the periphery of the store, where I couldn't see him. They eventually left without buying anything.
By this time I realized I hadn't checked the old/first edition book section, which I always do, looking for some of the books I loved as a child. I found "Beautiful Joe," which looks like the books I used to read--and it even sounded somewhat familiar.
It was written by Marshall Saunders in 1893 and published by the American Baptist Publication Society. It was reprinted by the same society in 1907 and then finally in 1920 with no publisher named. It was a deal at only $4.
Another group of 3 came in, a very pregnant woman, a short guy who, when I told him to browse the store and enjoy himself, told me that he works in a toy store and that's what he says to his customers. They were accompanied by a tall may with a greying pony tail, who bought "Rats and Lice in History" and "The Plague." I wished him happy reading!
A red-faced rotund guy with a Hitler moustache and a bum bag that hung almost to his knees spent a lot of time browsing the humor section and eventually left without buying anything.
A man came in and was thrilled to find a copy of "Catcher in the Rye," which he was buying for his daughter. I told him I had only read it recently and he admitted that he had never read it.
A woman came in and was also thrilled to find a copy of "Lorna Doone," which her mother used to read to her. She said she had been looking for a copy for a long time.
It was getting late. I had read about half of my book and got up to wander around a bit. I found a book called "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks" that I debated about buying, but ultimately did. The cover made it sound like a fascinating read: Doctors took her cells without asking. Those cells never died. They launched a medical revolution and a multimillion dollar industry. More than twenty years later,her children found out. Their lives would never be the same. The New Yorker review, part of which is printed on the back says, in part, Her name was Henrietta Lacks, but scientists know her as HeLa. She was a poor black tobacco farmer whose cells--taken without her knowledge--became one of the most important tools in medicine, vital for developing the polio vaccine, cloning, gene mapping, and more. Henrietta's cells have been bought and sold by the billions yet she remains virtually unknown and her family can't afford health insurance..." I can hardly wait to leap into this book!
Susan came to relieve me and was followed into the story by a dapper gentleman in a black pinstripe suit with a black large-brimmed fedora who was looking for a book by Alex MacLean (which we didn't have).