A blurb in today's NY Post brings good news. Doubleday has acquired a recently discovered fairy tale from Mark Twain's archives, The Purloining of Prince Oleomargarine. Another blurb cites 109-year-old Ruth Benjamin of Illinois, who believes, contrary to what doctors say, that her love of bacon explains her long and happy life. She never smoked or drank.
For the first two hours of operation, the floating book shop was ignored by passersby. When Mike, a local Super, stopped by, I told him I hoped he'd again brought me luck. Immediately following his visit last Monday, the floodgates opened. He pooh-poohed the comment and went off to buy a cup of coffee. A moment later Ralph showed and bought three works of non-fiction, including Don't Shoot Yourself in the Foot by Daniel G Amen, a manual on overcoming self-defeating behavior. I hadn't spoken to him since before the election. He was an early Trump supporter and is very pleased and hopeful. On his heels came a young man who I know has a fondness for the works of Danielle Steel. I picked up and showed him The House on Hope Street, which he purchased. Soon Mike returned. He laughed when I told him what had occurred. "Love you," he said as he left to see how the work on his building's boiler was proceeding. It was the second time a male had said that to me this day, the other being Steve, aka Mr. Conspiracy. I was relieved that he and Ralph had not arrived simultaneously. If a political argument had ensued, and escalated to more than words, the burly Ralph might have annihilated Steve. Ralph, who attended Lafayette High School while I was coaching there, called me an "inspiration." Shucks. My thanks to these kind folks, and to the woman who donated about 20 hardcover best sellers in pristine condition, several each by Nora Roberts, Sandra Brown, Iris Johansen and others. I didn't make much money, but it was a good day, topped off by the ride home when Iggy Pop's foray into existentialism, Winners and Losers, popped up on Car CD #21. Eyes glazing, I sang along: "...Winners and losers in love with themselves/ no Santa Claus, no happy elves/ In this smoking gun existence/ it gets harder to unwind/ I'll just eat my breakfast/ Try to keep my questions starving all night..."
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