Friday, August 25, 2017

Selling the Hoard Ain't Easy

Once upon a time there was guy who couldn't let go of a book. He had gathered a personal library of over 5,000 volumes.

That's a lot of books.

There had been more, but several hundred had been ruined by a leaking drain pipe in the kitchen.

And I want you to know, I had actually read nearly all those tomes, too. But boy, they really lined our basement rec room.




I don't have any photos showing the whole extent of my book hoard. The shelves line all the walls and even went across the center of the room.

I also had a couple units holding 331/3 record albums. I only had over 1,000 of these.




The number of books and records grew every year. They had long ago, when there wasn't even half as many, become a burden every time we moved.

You needed a truck just for the books.

I never wanted to have to load up all those books if we ever moved again. So a few years ago I decided to get rid of  a lot of them.  This was not easy for me. If you have ever seen the show, "Hoarders" and how those people cling to their stuff, you'll know how I was about my books. Dumping my books was like dumping my friends. But I went through them and began the sort. Some books were too damaged. I mean, I still had paperbacks from when I was a kid. I had paperbacks with the price on the cover and the price was 15 cents. Some of these books didn't belong in a library; they belonged in a museum. And yes, some were in such poor condition they belonged in the dump. This is where some were sent, as difficult as it was for me to toss them in the trash receptacle, even with the pages falling from the binding as I picked them up.

Other books were just too outdated. I had quite a number of computer manuals and texts, which were no longer reverent. These too went into the trash. There were also a few hundred books I determined to keep. The rest I planned to dnate to the library.

I tried the Claymont Library first, but they turned me down. I was told they were moving to a new building in the near future, so weren't taking any books donations at the moment. I tried other libraries, but they had scheduled days for accepting books and linitations on how many one could donate at a time. It was not a large number and I calculated it would take many moons to unlad my stock. I didn't feel like make all that many runs to the library with books.

Finally, I was able to give them in only a couple trips, to the then new Brandywine Library.


I moved a few of the best bookcases from the basement upstairs into our office. We also had two bookcases in the living room, but they were mostly filled with Lois' reading matter. (We have since removed the two living room cases and books. Lois is not as possesive about books as I. )  Usually these last few years when you have ssen photos of me at my desk my remaining books have been the background.

What were on these shelves? Well, on top were a ceramic Last Supper my mother made, a little coffin containing the ashes of our dog, Tucker, a Globe, framed photos of my kids at their high school graduation and two folded flags. One flag was on my Uncle Ben's coffin and the other flag was on my father's.

The mostly white binders on three rows of the one unit are the books I have written. The other shelves contain my Bibles and Christian books, collections of certain authors: Faulkner, Hemingway, Updike, Steinbeck, Lovecraft, Poe, Beaumont, Capote, Malamud, Baldwin, King and then a variety of those books I especially liked.

But...

I looked at those shelves and realized there was no way I would reread those in my remaining life. It was not logical hanging on to them. Why? Just to point them out to people to feed my ego? I should have keep the whole 5,000 if that was the reason. I decided I needed to cull further. As I say, having a fatal disease is liberating.

I did not succeed in completely emptying my library. There were I number of books I hadn't read or read completely and I choose to keep those. I also kept my Bibles and certainly those white binders of my own scribblings. That still eliminated a lot of volumes; so what to do with them?


Some were messed up and these I could chuck, but I hate throwing away books. It is akin to burning
Them in my mind. Once more I mounted my white horse and galloped about trying to give them away and once more I was rebuffed. Laurel, daughter #1, said there was a place called 2nd & Charles in Stanton where Borders once was. This was located near where she used to work at the SPCA before that woman who really ought to be in jail ruined the shelter. Laurel said the place bought used books.

I had a number of empty plastic bins downstairs. I loaded these up with my books. I could only put so many to a bin or I wouldn't be able to lift the thing. I am unbelievably weak these days. I struggled mightily to drag and carry these out to my car and load it us. Finally, on the brink of exhaustion I drove off to sell my wares.

No problem getting there because I use to work at Christiana Mall some years ago and had been pass this little mall many times. I wondered where to park when I got there. In the lot to the front? Perhaps they had a delivery door ff to the side or back, so I went around the corner and there I saw a ramp up to a door that looked like a delivery type. I parked there, grabbed my walking stick and hobbled around to the front to enter.

I looked about and finally went to a check out counter and asked how to find the person who bought used books. The young lady very nicely directed me across the way to another counter behind which a lady was busy doing something. It kind of looked like the inner workings of a post office. I went over and this woman stopped her puttering and came over. When I told her I had some books to sell out in my car she asked if I needed a flatbed to bring them in. I said it was difficult for me to unload and bring anything in.

"Ah," she said. "Let me get someone."

She went through a door, came back and said a fellow would be with me as soon as he finished something he was doing.  I didn't wait look when a young man with a long beard came out to me. (Keep in mind, at my age everyone else is usually a young man or woman. He was probably in his thirties.)

A grasped a cart, like a grocery cart, and asked if my car was parked out front. I told him no, I had pulled around to the side. "Oh, bad spot," he said. He didn't say it angrily or anything. Everyone I dealt with at 2nd & Charles was extremely nice.

At my car he ruffled through my plastic bins. "Even though we sell used books," he said, "our customers want them in good shape, not perfect, but with no torn or ripped dust covers, stains, etc."
He also explained they would take anything if they had a number of the books in stick. "Stephen King," he said, of whom I had several, we can't use. We have many Stephen King books in stick. Unless it is The Dark Tower. We could use some of those."

Alas, I had no Dark Tower series volumes with me.

He plucked out a couple dozen books and dropped them in the cart. We headed back inside. He went with the cart of books behind the counter. He came to a register and said to me, "We need to open an account." We did so and he said it would take about a half hour, was I going to wait in the store. I said I was. He went off with my books and I wandered into a very impressive store.

In the once upon a time days I would have been delighted to browse about the racks, but I was wearing down, getting fatigued and by luck I spied one chair down an aisle. I sat down and waited until another young guy came up and told me my order was done. How he knew me, I do not know.

At the counter I was told they only took a few of my books. I would get $1.95 in cash or I could have a store credit of three dollars and some change. I took the cash.

The bearded fellow helped roll my rejected books back to my car and I headed home. It was easy coming don, but no so much going home. I went up Route 13. It use to be easy to get on I-495 going this way, but they have been working down t that intersection forever and I can never find my way anymore. They had detour signs posted, so I followed them.

I followed the signs and suddenly they disappeared leaving in a community I did not know. I had no idea where I was other than the edge of Wilmington. I turned this way and that, but no familiar streets appear nor were there any signs pointing me toward home.  Next thing I knew I was in New Castle and headed south instead of north.

I managed to do a U-turn and eventually I stumbled out of nowhere onto a street I knew and got home. I must have spent an hour getting home on what should have been a 15-minute journey. By now I calculated the $1.95 I got for my books wouldn't even pay for the gas I used on my sale's run.

The last thing the bearded guy said to me when I left was, "In a couple weeks or a month, come back with the books in better shape and maybe we could take some by then."

I am not going back. It isn't worth the hastle of the roads.




















1 comment:

  1. I'll bet New Castle is nice this time of year!

    (I ended up there once while taking a 'scenic" route from Baltimore to NJ.)

    :-)

    -Andy

    ReplyDelete