Several years ago, at a time that I needed help with putting books, papers, things in order, Daughter #1 told Susan about my need, and it was arranged that she would come to work with me. Apparently, she had serious trepidations about working with me.
Today, as I was checking out my purchases at my local craft store, I saw that the young woman who was checking me out had tattoos on her arms and upper chest. I told her I wished that she and I had more time because I would like to ask her about her beautiful tattoos. I told her that I planned to write a BLOG about tattoos. She seemed pleased.
I am taking a workshop, an 8-week workshop involved with poetry. We receive a poem prompt, every day. We are expected to write thirty poems before the workshop is over. That’s THIRTY POEMS, folks. When we began in September, I thought I’d never get that many poems written. But, I’m doing it! As well as attending the 5-6, one-hour sessions every week; during many of those sessions, we also write poetry to a prompt.
Hello, all.
What you get with this BLOG is only a poem that I’ve written for a workshop that I’m taking. We are expected to write thirty poems by the end of October. It is a great workshop. I’m having fun.
Dear Readers,
For those of you who live in the Denver, Colorado, metropolitan area, I have a place where you just gotta’ go! The Bookies Bookstore has been around for many years. Created and organized by Sue Lubbeck, it lived in her house in the beginning. Daughter #1 and I remember going there where every horizontal surface of the house was covered with books. Children’s books, primarily.
I met Sue at a Bookies’ book fair at a school where buyers had an opportunity to purchase books for children and grands; and, teachers were in seventh heaven because there were all of the books they had hoped to read to their students. Or, to have their students read. Parents and grandparents were especially pleased to have quality presents to give at Christmas and birthdays.
When her neighbors became unhappy because UPS trucks were visiting her house to deliver packages, she moved her business to a duplex further south. There, the shopper could see the same effect. Books on every horizontal surface. With the space soon outgrown, The Bookies moved to East Mississippi Avenue in a shoppette across from the a tall black hotel. The top was a cap that looked very much like the character in Star Wars; my students named it “Darth Vader Hotel.”
The expanded floor space allowed for more inventory, as well as books for adults. I really don’t know that books for adults began with that store; I only assume they did. Books, puzzles, games, and many things that go with books and reading. My favorite place in the adult section was and is the poetry section.
I remember being there with the three children I was home schooling (after retiring from “formal” teaching programs); we met a couple of Sue’s friends. A husband and wife. The children and I explained why we were at the store, and they were not at “school.” They each explained that they had $10 to purchase a book. Not a toy. Not a puzzle. A book.
Before we left the store, Sue informed me that this kind and generous couple had set up an account for my children so they could come each month and purchase a book. I know this was Sue’s doing.
I always felt comfortable being in that store. I wrote a sort-of poem for them, which I understand they put on their website for some time. It read: “Happiness is going into the bookstore where everybody knows your name.”
After Sue’s passing, the store was purchased by another bookstore owner. Eventually, even the East Mississippi store was outgrown, and The Bookies Bookstore now resides at 2085 South Holly, in the first block north of East Evans Avenue. Most of the wonderful staff went with the new store. I was there, today, to purchase the just-released adult book, Patriot, A Memoir, by Alexei Navalny, who was murdered while in a Russian prison. It seems that there are always adult books for me to find. New books. Classics. Fiction, Non-Fiction. Cookbooks, History. If they don’t have it, they can probably get it for you.
Children’s books are still their important purpose for being. They have a give-back program for helping teachers with their classroom needs. I buy children’s books. It seems to me that we never outgrow our need for the beauty and humor that children’s books provide.
I was at The Bookies, last weekend. One of my favorite living children’s writers, Denise Vega, had a book launch for her new book. Adela’s Mariachi Band. It’s available in both English and Spanish. I have both, even though I can’t speak, read, or write Spanish.
If you have some time, go to The Bookies Bookstore. Revel in the new space. The tons and tons of books – for children and adults. And, yes, I bought a couple of poetry books. What else!
YOU GOTTA’ GO!
Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.
We make wishes but they don’t always come into being. We hope to do something. It doesn’t happen. This morning I lay in bed wishing for sleep. Planning for sleep. Hoping for sleep. I found that, as usual, my thoughts continued to flow. “Just get up and write,” I said to myself. You are not going to sleep, right now. And, tomorrow is another day. You have no where to go and only the things on your list to be done.”
I found a tiny book (4 inches by 3 ½ inches) at my pharmacist’s. I love tiny books that can hide in a hand, a pocket or a purse. My library has many.
Sayings gathered by Talia Levy and Jax Berman, in Sloth Wisdom makes it one of the most enjoyable and refreshing books I’ve read in a long time. It was illustrated by Lindsay Dale; wonderful pictures of sloths.
DOGS DO NOT BELONG IN GROCERY STORES! OR, RESTAURANTS
This is a really (REALLY) long post. I just couldn’t make it smaller. Please bear with me. And, you need to know – it IS A RANT!
Today, at the Safeway on Downing and Evans, as I entered the store, a younger woman with a dog on a leash sailed through the door. Small dog. Not the size of the service dogs that I’m accustomed to seeing. When I got back to the pharmacy area, there she was. I said to her that she should not have the dog in the store because it is not a service dog. It is very small. It didn’t look as though it had been trained to do anything special for her. And, it had been barking at people.
Readers, I had planned another BLOG for this week, but then Life happened. Or, maybe, I should say, the inevitable happened. Or, more accurately, stupidity happened.
The good part is that I’ve actually started painting the year-long project of the front covers of the free-standing closets. That is good. But, there is a LOT of work to do before it is presentable. Then, as I said, stupidity (with a capital “S”) arrived.
You’ve heard from me that “once in a while, I do the right thing.” Something occurred, this week, that provoked me to think about some of those things that I’ve done and really think they were the right thing.
I receive lunch every weekday, Monday through Friday, from Meals on Wheels. Each day, a different driver delivers my meal. Usually, the driver for each day is the same person each week. A man (let’s call him JW) delivers my Thursday meals. Of course, being somewhat (somewhat??) loquacious, I talk with the persons kind enough to deliver my meals. Talking with JW was no different.
It turns out that JW is a writer. Or, at least, he has been a writer, but his life seems to have made him curtail his writing. He loved being a writer. When I heard that he had stopped writing, it was like waving a “red flag in front of a bull.” I began encouraging him to resume his writing – strongly encouraging him.
He assured me that he just didn’t have time. He had many things that interfered with taking time to write. Reason after reason. And, I kept saying he should take fifteen or fewer minutes a day. Still he didn’t have time. Ten minutes, then. Or, five. Still no time.
I pulled one of my blank thin, soft-cover books from my collection of these books waiting for writing and gave it to him. I told him I was giving him a red one so he could not lose it! And, I wrote a personal note to him on the first page with his name written on the front cover. Maybe, I thought, he would stumble over the book on a regular basis and write something.
That was months ago.
Every week, my first sentence to him was, “Have your written something?” Usually, his answer was that he had not. I know my weekly question was like badgering him, but I thought my question was kind enough; perhaps, it would be a stimulus for him to write. Then, I went to Seattle and Portland with my daughters, returning this past week.
Regular as clockwork, JW delivered my MOW meal on Thursday. Before I could ask him if he had started writing, he said, “I have something to show you.” With that, he pulled out the red book and handed it to me.
Opening it, if found several pages of writing. I asked him if he wanted me to read what he had written or if he wanted to read it to me. He chose to be the reader. Poetry. Many pages of poetry.
He spoke from his heart with deep meaning. He had poured out his heart. His fears. His tears. And, promised that he has more to say.
Once in a while, I do something right.
Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.