Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: information (Page 1 of 5)

The Main Squeeze.

Have you Time-Traveled lately? You don’t have to be Marty McFly or Dr. Who to find portals through space and time. Visiting the past is as simple as logging on to the internet. Main Street – as we know it – will require some time-teleporting to view it after this evening.

I realized that Friday is the last day for Main Street in Broken Arrow. Oh, it will still be around, but this afternoon is anticipated to be the last in its current configuration. To document the deal, I decided to take a picture, and stepped out past the parking spaces and into traffic, which is the Broken Arrow equivalent of swimming with sharks. (I won’t go into my crosswalk incident of the other afternoon, except to point out that the light was green for me, red for the two trucks, and that I survived it.) As you can see in the image, I waited until cars were stopped at the far light ahead (and at Broadway behind me) to give myself a fighting chance of survival.

Hopefully, a thick layer of auto-shark-repellent will go into the concrete mix when the street alteration begins on Monday. Personally, I think it would be fantastic if some of the cars that are pushing 50 mph through downtown would slow down long enough to take in the signs and stores and shops. Replacing the two inner lanes of traffic with a single, turn-only lane will require a little more attentiveness regarding cars backing out of parking spaces. It should slow the traffic some, as well.

The Main Street Expressway – running from 71st to 91st (of course, BA calls them Kenosha and Washington) – should be a thing of the past after this weekend. That’s just peachy with me. The orange barrels and traffic cones that will go up when work begins on Monday will eventually be gone. The Rose District that should begin blooming in the fall will be more conducive to walking around without requiring an accidental death rider on your insurance policy.

The concept drawings of the finished arts and entertainment district are beautiful. They’ve planned a mid-block crosswalk between Commercial and Dallas in addition to the wider sidewalks that will accommodate some shopper-amenities like benches and seats. Some of the restaurants will be able to have outdoor seating (some already do…). There will be landscaping with an irrigation system to keep the plants green, instead of turning toasty-brown like they all did last summer from lack of rain. Angled parking will remain, but the four-lane thoroughfare will be reduced to two-with-a-center-turn from College to Fort Worth streets.

Naturally, there are people who feel strongly about the proposed alteration. Change of any sort is generally met with anxiety (excepting, perhaps, pocket change). Here’s a taste of truth, though. For the past decade or so, downtown BA has been treading the commercial water, with an ever-changing list of store names. Going in and out of business. Without a fundamental and base-level change, that cycle will only continue to repeat.

That’s why I’m excited to be in the Rose District and will tolerate the inevitable difficulties associated with store-front road construction. Growing the Rose District will be a little like growing the actual flowers: you’ve got to start with viable seeds and soil to have any expectation of seeing beautiful results. It will take a little nurturing and some amount of patience. In the end, the results should exceed the efforts by far.

(You’ll notice that I got through that entire paragraph without drawing a single fertilizer-compost-or-alternative reference.)

Speedy drivers will still be able to shoot down the ol’ Main Street Expressway. It’s as easy as taking the Google Earth internet onramp and cruising along with those old and dated images, where our little downtown bookstore is still visible as Francy Law Firm.

If we could only roll back fuel prices to earlier times, too…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main, Broken Arrow OK!

Pooch fashion. Dog-earing.

At some future point, a child will pick up a book and turn it over and over looking for the On button. The rise of the eReaders is upon us.

Some schools are already incorporating tablets and other electronics to replace the old paper-based thing. That’s okay.

I don’t want to say this out loud, but if you’ll lean in to the screen there, I’ll whisper it:

Schools have a racket going with the textbooks. I don’t mean the elementary schools where books are handed out at the beginning of the year and then returned before summer vacation. (Do they still do that?)

Universities and colleges. Campus bookstores. Pick up the syllabus and wander over to the student union. Drop several hundred on the required materials, and that’s at used-book prices. Try to turn them back in later and Boom! Curriculum change. Won’t be using that book next semester. Can’t give you anything for it.

Sorry.

Okay. Whispering ended.

If the collegiate texts could be downloaded onto a reader, a sizable chunk could be hacked out of those education costs. I’m all for that.

Reading books for pleasure, though?

I’m hoping that the books will linger around for a while, but who am I kidding? Go ahead and give me your thoughts – call me on your rotary dial phone. But call before closing-time. Look down at your wristwatch and check the hour. Go ahead, I’ll wait a minute. A couple of you are actually wearing one. Does it have the big minute hand and the little hour hand?

Telling time used to be a school-day lesson. Pass back those purple-y colored mimeographed sheets with the little clock faces all over, and write the correct time underneath with the old #2.

Well, I’m here to tell you, THAT lesson plan is gone.

Another one gone bust is the book-respect lecture, which brings me the long-way back to our first reference: kids and those darned non-electronic readers. Books, as we call them. I can vividly recall my teacher holding up a book for the demonstration. Even as an educational tool and example, she was unable to physically turn down the page corner in teaching us that such an action was unacceptable. She curled it over a little bit, but didn’t crease it. She just explained the creasing part. Couldn’t do it. The woman RESPECTED books.

No dog-earing the pages, she said. And of course, I heard dog-ear-rings, a fashion faux-pas if there ever was one.

TEACHER: Don’t do the dog-earing.

ME, harboring a dog-earring question while raising and waving my hand, supporting it aloft at the elbow with the palm of my other hand as she continues to look around the class, ignoring my attempts at getting her attention to the point that I cannot keep my waving hand up any longer. I coughed. No good. Hand down.

TEACHER, finally looking in my direction: Did you have a question?

ME: Dog earrings?

TEACHER: You’re asking about dog earrings?

ME: Uh, no. Can I go to the bathroom?

As I headed out, she held up a scrap of paper for the class to see, wedging it near the spine. Mark your place with a piece of paper instead, she said. (A book-wedgie, I thought, but did not say aloud.)

Later, the teacher brought a pencil dangerously close to the book’s pages while warning us to never, ever – write in a book. Ever. Her eyelids kind of lifted as she said it. Never, she repeated. Ever.

I got it. As a result, I am a lifetime supporter of the post-it note foundation. I don’t write in books, despite the practices of others in the book-selling profession. Don’t write in books. Ever. No dog-earrings, certainly.

Which brings us at last to the point of today’s entry. (You’re asking – I know: What’s the point?)

A fellow carried to the counter a 1930 first edition with a surviving (now in plastic protector ) dust-jacket and slipcase, then turned it over in his hands several times, for my benefit. He didn’t see a sticker on it, he said, and wondered about the price. He opened the front cover and pointed to a penciled-in price of four-dollars.

For back-story purpose: The book was in a rare book case and a sign-card in front of it displayed the price. Another copy of the same book is currently listed on the internet at well over three-hundred dollars. I’m asking $285, the price that was written on the tent-sign. But there was no disputing the fact that $4 was lettered in pencil on the front end-page. A used-book dealer had priced it at four-dollars once. Once, in the eighty-plus years since it had become a used book. Back when it wasn’t scarce or hard to find, I’d guess. Sometime when new hardbacks sold for under ten bucks. Well under.

That must have been an old price, I suggested. A really old price. (I suspect he knew that, since he admitted to having noticed a card with two-hundred-something written on it.) The $4 notation-in-pencil was a price once – but not mine.

I don’t write in books, I explained. Never.

Ever.

Holster your pencils and come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow OK

Off to see the Wizard…

You don’t have to be ‘off’ to see the wizard. States of inebriation help, perhaps, but are not required. (Kidding…) In reference to the classic from L. Frankie, Mr. Baum – he had his own wizardry and I finally got around to it.

Restless sleep last night. Weird nightmare. Had nothing to do, I pretty sure, with the late night reading.

I finished up The Wonderful Wizard of Oz before shutting off the light.

When I was a kid, I remember those scary flying monkeys that whipped Dorothy off to the Wicked Witch’s lair. That was pretty scary stuff. The part that REALLY got me was that airborne, bicycle riding, dressed in flowing-black, cackling crazy-laughter, outside-in-the-wind, schoolmarm-from-heck. Oh, man.

Then, there were those Ooompa-looompa-kind-of guards marching around like stormtroopers, chanting in unison, Yo-oh! Yo-ee-oh! Yo-oh! Yo-ee-oh! Maybe I was a sheltered child, but those guys made me pretty nervous, too.

In his preface, L. Frank Baum explains that he wanted to write a children’s story that was free of all the scary elements of the Grimm Brother’s fairy tales. No children-eating witches. No woodcutter’s wives leaving the kids out in the forest. He wanted a pleasant little story that could be taken in without the risk of nightmares.

For the most part, he succeeded. And for the most part, the famous movie did Mr. Baum justice. All the elements are there from his book: the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion, and Toto the dog. The Yellow Brick Road leads to Oz and there is that dreadful field of poppies that is so vast that it cannot be crossed without being overcome from breathing in the pleasant but poisonous scent.

The twister lifts Dorothy in the farmhouse and lands her on the Wicked Witch, saving the Munchkins – same – movie and book. The witch’s feet sticking out from underneath wearing Silver Slippers.

What?

Silver slippers?

Everyone knows Dorothy inherited ruby slippers. In fact, the shoes that Judy Garland wore in the 1939 film are in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. It was just last October that the Museum announced it was making a rare loan of the slippers to a British museum.

In the book, though, they are silver slippers. They do have a magical power, but in an unusual occasion of the screenwriters getting it correct, the visual magic works a lot better than Mr Baum’s version.

You see, in the novel, Dorothy can wish herself home while wearing the silver slippers, and she does so – with not an ounce of pizzazz.

Dorothy: I wish I was back in dreary Kansas.

Shoes: Seems like a wasted wish, but – Boom! There you go.

Dorothy, back in Kansas: Should have picked Vegas. Or even Branson.

Everyone knows that – in the movie – Dorothy clicks the heels of her ruby-red slippers together and repeats “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”

Whiskety-whisk! She’s back in Kansas, on the bed with all her friends gathered around. Ahhhh. It was all a dream. A drug-induced psychedelic meth-trip (just kidding… We know what a straight-shooter Dorothy was.). All her friends were there, and it was all beautiful, but…

There’s no place like home.

Mr. Baum played it a little more low-key. Slippers (Silver) on, got the wish working. Bang! Dorothy is back in Kansas, tossed-down-like in the dusty farmland.

Dorothy, picking herself up: I’m back in dreary Kansas!

Aunty Em: There you are, Dorothy. Get washed up for dinner now. There’s chores later.

The return from the Wonderful Land of Oz and the Emerald City is about as matter-of-fact as it could possibly have been written. Oh, you’re back then. Good deal. Let’s go clean out the pigsty.

On second thought, maybe that troubling end had something to do with my sleep issues. Something about a plot-stealing monster that made off with the great ending for L. Frank Baum’s Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

I Woke up and didn’t recognize any of those people standing around my bed.

Come get a copy and read it for yourself!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main, Broken Arrow, OK
918-258-3301

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