I admit it. I get school-girl excited about books. Maps, globes, old magazines, anything. The aroma of an old book shop is the greatest of all incense.
So, last night I went through a couple of boxes we put in long term storage. Some books and magazines I didnt want in Germany. I am making a conserted effort to lighten our load. To discard everything not necessary to our lives as we make the next few moves and part of that is eliminating some of my approximately 30 cartons of books. The first box was full of some old, blue bound hardback books I picked up for .10 apiece from the Oneonta Public Library back in my senior year of high school. They are, mostly, reprints of collections of articles by college professors or from newspapers, most of which comes from the turn of the last century. Many are also stamped in the front cover “Joe Namath = gift”. I can get lost in these books. Not because the material is particularly relevant, but no one writes like these authors wrote. The word choice, the turn of phrase are such that they evoke drawing rooms full of cigar smoke and fine brandy where gentlemen in suits discuss the days events and the finer points of racing horses. Eventually I parted with almost all of them. Some collections on the topic of Liberty and a few of the more interesting collections I kept, but most I am going to find a new home for.
The second box was full of old Field and Streams, going back to 1985. Im still debating these. I put them in chronological order and pulled out about 20 that were duplicates of the same edition. Those I may start randomly leaving in public places, let people try to figure out how a 1992 F&S got there. For the rest, Im undecided wether to cut out the articles I like and get rid of the rest or keep them intact for the kids to enjoy when they get a couple years older, about the age I discovered F&S.
Anyway, I love old things, but especially books and such. They speak to my heart.