Last Saturday I stopped at the “Book Sale Every Saturday” that a guy in Manti does. You may have heard the advertisement on the radio. As I understand it, Nate Christensen essentially bought a second-hand bookshop in Provo. He now has 75,000 books in several metal bins in his back yard.
It can only display a few thousand at a time. I notice that there are many plastic-covered pallets of books that have not even been unpacked. According to the radio ad, Nate loves books; but his wife says they have to go. So they sell for a dollar a piece every Saturday.
The sale takes place according to the honor system. The customer browses, selects books and deposits money in a locker or uses Venmo to pay.
When I get books at a yard sale, I usually have to sneak them into the house so my wife doesn’t see them. This time my wife was with me. I got away with five books. She has one – Joan of Arc. Her college degree is French so she has a thing for Joan.
One interesting find I made was the 1977 edition of The Banyan, BYU’s yearbook. This year I graduated as a cougar. 44 years later I got my yearbook.
I often get a new book or two or three for Christmas every year. Books are great gifts, “in my book”. A few years ago, on a memorable Christmas, I received five books.
My youngest son gave me the first two books in the series “The Hunger Games”. These books were popular with young adults (like me, ha ha). In case you didn’t know, this is some kind of science fiction / fantasy story set in the future of North America. The story is disturbing in some ways – but entertaining.
My son may not have known that I had already read the first volume of the three book series. I think he pulled it off his shelf and wrapped it for me as a last minute gift that evokes despair.
I do not have a problem with that. In fact, he may have learned the strategy from me. It’s not uncommon for me to give away a book I’ve read or a used book.
The other three books I received for Christmas were “To The Rescue” (biography of Thomas S. Monson), “Jane Austen’s Little Guide Book” and “The Book of Totally Useless Information”.
It may or may not surprise you to know that of the five books I received, the book I was most drawn to was the “useless information.” I wonder what that says about me. Let’s not investigate now.
From this book I learned about the history of kilts and why zero scores are called “love” in tennis. “Love” is a distortion of the French word “oeuf”, which means “egg” – like goose egg. Most of us are familiar with the zero, sometimes referred to as a goose egg in sports.
Here is some advice from the Jane Austen Guide. 1) Why surprise parties never work: “Surprises are stupid things. The pleasure is not increased and the inconvenience is often considerable. “2) About the need to complain:” If you don’t complain, you will never be pitied. “
We went to the Hale Center Theater in Orem a week ago and saw the musical version of the Jane Austen story “Emma”. It exceeded our expectations and I recommend it. (runs until June 5th)
Let me change gears here and change the subject now. We’ll talk more about books another time. There is no end to booking stories.
I was reminded of a story last Sunday my sister-in-law told me about an experience she called a parable. That experience was obviously a momentous event that she was trying to make sense of.
Here is the short version. She and her grandson worked under a tree. They were suddenly aware that they were invading the personal space of a hummingbird nest. The “father and mother” hummingbird was unhappy that their privacy and security were at risk.
A few days later the birds seemed to have disappeared and the nest appeared to be deserted. The grandson was sent up to the tree to cut the branch so that the nest could be used – presumably as a decoration. Lo and behold, when the branch was handed down, there were a few tiny, withered, ugly, apparently dead birds in the nest. But they weren’t dead. When they were touched, they opened their mouths and awaited dinner.
In the absence of a better idea, the small branch was glued back into the tree. The end of the story is good. The baby birds lived after all.
At the end of the story I wanted to know what the moral or doctrine was – since the story was “advertised” as a “parable”. My sister-in-law said she didn’t know. She wanted me to tell her what I learned from the story.
Here are some of the possible lessons I learned: 1) Be careful when handling the withered, ugly, and seemingly dead material. 2) duct tape is indeed all it has to do. 3) When hummingbirds want their nests to be part of a craft project. You build them up on your mailbox. 4) Good deeds are not always punished. 5) Count your chickens and hummingbirds after they hatch – and before you see any branches from a tree.
If you have unresolved parables in your life, please feel free to send them to me. As you can see, I have rare interpretative skills. – Merrill
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