uly 19, 2025
This was an unusually quiet day at Printed Page Bookshop. People indifferently wandered the store. One would ask for a book with larger type; another would ask for a book in a smaller format. One guy bought a $4 book, gave me a $5 bill, and then asked if he had to sign anything — kind of the credit card version of muscle memory.
A customer from our early days came by and was surprised that I remembered his name and the kind of books he liked. I can remember things about customers, but I can’t remember if I had breakfast.
Out on the street, I saw a pale, gangly, young woman wobble out of the tattoo place holding her arm turned outward. Her friend came over to examine her new tattoo. A guy walking the other way glanced at the women before snagging a cigarette butt from the gutter.
While I was ringing up a sale — my customer had stacked up six books by Fydor Dostoyevsky — Chris came in. I’m pretty sure Chris is a street person. I’ve never seen him in clean clothes, showered, or shaved. Today he had on a tattered sleeveless undershirt and a bandana wrapped around his forehead that reminded me of photos I’ve seen of Kamikaze pilots. His missing teeth reminded me of a hockey player. He stood quietly to the side holding a short stack of books while I finished up with the Dostoyevsky guy. He is always deferential and polite.
Chris, who today in his Southern accent corrected me to call him Randy, had not had a good day. He lifted up his shirt to show me where 26 — count ’em, 26 — bees had stung him, sending him to the emergency room. Last time in, his leg was swollen and scabbed from a car accident. To add to his woes, the books he wanted to sell were worthless, but I gave him a few bucks anyway. I hope that someday he’ll find something great, and he’ll think of us.
I’ve tried with several homeless folks to educate them about what to look for in books, and what to avoid. With a little knowledge and a good eye, I think you could eke out a living bookscouting. But my lessons have never stuck.
Once I wrote him a check when he got lucky finding some books — made out to “Chris” — but the bank gave him a hard time cashing it, so I try to keep some cash on hand should Randy get lucky again.
Seems to me he’s overdue.