Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: book (Page 98 of 102)

We know Oscar Meyer. Oscar Wilde? Not so much.

Dad and son came in to look around.

“Hmmm,” said Dad. “A bookstore.” He didn’t sound optimistic, but came in anyway.

His son might have been nine or ten years old. Certainly old enough to read and tall enough to see over the edge of the counter, where a doll-sized figure was displayed in a clear plastic card-backed package.

“Dad,” he called out. “Who is Oscar, Wild…Will-dee?”

“Uh-oh,” I thought. “This could be an awkward moment.”

I was remembering the scandals associated with Oscar Wilde (his name has an E at the end, which is – I suppose – why the young man read it as will-dee).

Even as the dad was considering his answer, I recalled putting a similar question to my mother.

“Mom,” I called out. “Who is Bridget Bardot?” Her name must have been mentioned on the television, that big clunky piece of furniture in our living room that displayed only black and white pictures. Maybe I saw a black and white version of Bridget Bardot that piqued my interest.

My mother didn’t hesitate in her reply.

“A movie star,” she said. “She likes to run around wearing nothing but a bath towel.”

I guess the answer worked well enough. I got the idea.

With the young man’s question posed in the book shop, I waited to hear the father’s answer. Finally, he sighed and admitted, “I have noooo idea.”

“He was an 1800s English writer,” I offered, trying to help out the dad. The kid was quick.

“Then why does that say ‘Action Figure?”

“It’s kind of a joke,” I responded. “He wasn’t known for X-Men kind of action.”

When Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde died in 1900, he was destitute and living in Paris. A victim of a scandal of his own creation.

He objected to something that was alleged to have been said about him by John Douglas, the Marquess of Queensbury. It was whisperings (some not so quiet) about Wilde and the son of the Marquess, Lord Alfred Douglas. Wilde sued for slander. In the course of the trial, enough mud was dragged into court concerning Wilde’s antics that he dropped the slander suit. It was too late, though. Wilde was charged with “gross indecencies,” convicted, and sentenced to two years of hard labor. He spent time in jail, although he spelled it gaol. He might have had better fortune in our current society, but in 1890s London there were some things best kept out of conversation.

In his day, Oscar Wilde was one of the most famous personalities around. He was born into a wealthy intellectual family, was well educated, known for his quick wit, and in 1890 authored a popular story called The Picture of Dorian Gray. It didn’t help the author during his lifetime, but when moving pictures were invented it was one of the early books adapted to film. It has been redone several times since that first Hungarian version in 1918.

Wilde had the intellect and wit of Dick Cavett, the social circles of Oprah Winfrey, the theatrical following of Neil Simon, and a wife as influential in her day as Hillary Clinton (well, maybe that last one is a stretch…).

Dapper-looking as he is, I thought Oscar the action figure would be gone by now, landing under some lucky literary Christmas tree. His action figure comrade Charles Dickens found himself a home over the holidays.

But then again – he was more will-dee than Wilde.

Here comes the sun…

Maybe no one noticed.

The headline on Tulsa World writer Jason Ashley Wright’s column this morning noted the particularly rainy day we experienced here in Broken Arrow, while many areas to the east suffered through severe weather. The photo (if you look close enough) says “Tulsa World file.”

Wright was taking a little tour of the Rose District, which amounted to popping in a few stores in the block south of the book shop. As many folks do, he started at the Main Street Tavern.

The bookstore is in the photo that accompanies the story, although from across the street where the photographer snapped the shot, the lettering is a little hard to read on the awning. That’s okay. Any publicity is fine with me, even if it doesn’t include the store name, a mention, or a recognizable store front.

What I really like is the way the rain falls invisibly in Broken Arrow.

No splashy streets. No gusty winds. No dripping umbrellas and store awnings. Brilliant sunshine all round.

That’s the way I feel about the relocation of the store to the Rose District of downtown Broken Arrow.

It’s all sunshine, on a rainy day.

The women and Jessie’s Girl.

Wow.

It’s something when just reading a headline can make your face turn hot from embarrassment. The article was on the Tulsa World website and reads:

Rick Springfield Sets Return Tulsa Trip

It could be that you’re in that group that has never heard of Rick Springfield. After all, it was about thirty years ago that he starred on the television soap opera General Hospital. In truth, he was a seasoned musician and fairly well known in his home country before he came to the US.

His song Jessie’s Girl hit #1 in 1981 at the same time he was playing the television role, and he found himself working TV scripts and touring concert arenas at the same time. I found myself in a concert arena in Tulsa sitting next to my wife, who was an avid General Hospital viewer and fan of Jessie’s Girl.

I had no idea what I was in for.

There had to have been plenty of other males there, but I sure felt like the only one. Maybe we were all shrinking back into seat cushion invisibility. On the other hand, the women all seemed to be leaping, shouting, and generally drawing attention to themselves. At least, that’s the way I remember it.

The song still gets played on occasion, but I haven’t heard it in some time. According to Jennifer Chancellor’s account in the World, the song enjoyed a revival in popularity when it was featured on Glee. I missed that one, too, but I’m happy for any 80’s-era rocker who can still sell tickets for casino performances and entertain crowds at age 63. Springfield played the River Spirit Event Center last year, probably boosted by the Glee promotion.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think Rick Springfield’s concert was horrible, necessarily. It was a matter of being in the midst of so many vocal fans and feeling out of place. There is sort of concert karma, though.

I got out of taking my daughter to the Backstreet Boys concert when they made a Tulsa appearance. I’m pretty sure I’d have felt a lot more out of place there.

In the meantime, any of you new or veteran Rick Springfield fans might enjoy his recently published memoir – Late, Late at Night – which came out in paperback last year and is ready for some reading, late, late at night.

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