Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: used (Page 3 of 47)

Outside the rain begins…

Holiday Road Trip!

And the drive back to Broken Arrow made me long for something soothing – like a Stephen King novel. Talk about a white-knuckle ride… our weather forecasters hit the mark and the deluge came as predicted, creating highway visibilities of about two car-lengths.

But, it was a great holiday break! And I hope your own celebrations were filled with as much happiness and camaraderie as ours was.

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I love seeing so many traditions being carried on, and the beginning of new family customs to be associated with the holiday season. It can sometimes be a time when stress slips in amongst all the good feelings, and I hope as you look back on the season you’ll recall nothing but good times.

On to the New Year!

We’re having a rare break from the day-to-day, but we’ll be serving at lunchtime on Monday, so – come visit!

McHuston

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

Goodbye, my children. Good buy.

Where do books come from, Daddy?

It wasn’t quite worded that way, but a visitor to the book shop wondered where I found the books that I offer for sale. (For those of you who haven’t yet stopped in, we offer a few new titles, but the majority of the inventory consists of well-kept used books.)

There isn’t a simple answer to the question, because they come from so many different sources.

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The easy answer is – I have a book tree out back and harvest a few every morning. Of course, THAT’S a load of blarney (but I’ve come close to having that one believed…)

The truth is: I spend time looking for books that I feel someone might like to own, and I wind up haunting garage sales, book fairs, thrift stores, and roadside turnouts. There are some folks who bring in books for credit on a trade account, and later use that credit to buy books to take home. On the rare occasion, I’ve accepted donations from people who are moving or (mistakenly) think they have too many books at home.

I answered today’s questioner much the same way, and mentioned that I occasionally buy books at auction.

The thing about auctions – you can make a bid and you may, or may not, be the buyer. I’ve placed bids on any number of books that went to others with deeper pockets. I placed a bid on an 1853 first edition Charles Dickens which – Surprise! – wound up being the winning number. Then I had to pay for it. I’m happy to own it. Love to drag it out to show people.

It’s fun to bid on beautiful books, even when you don’t become the owner.

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Then, there is that thing they call “buyer’s remorse.” I don’t call it that. For me, it’s more “buyer’s What-Was-I-Thinking?” That was the situation with an 1863 history of the French Revolution. A four-volume set bound in calfskin leather and marbled paper. Solid hinges. Only the slightest aging to the paper. Beauties, the lot of them.

Written entirely in French.

What was I thinking, buying such a set?

Obviously, I was taken by the quality of the books, thinking “What a nice set that would be to own.” And – suddenly – I was the owner.

No remorse here, but I was resigned to the fact that I was going to have the books laid in the coffin with me, so I could read them in the hereafter – where hopefully my French will be much improved. Then, a lunch guest joked about a discount on books for anyone who ordered from the menu.

I’m always versatile.

Told him with a grin that I could work something out – especially on orders over a hundred dollars. “Does that include lunch?” he wanted to know.

Began to sense that he wasn’t just joking around. He wasn’t. He pointed out the French Revolution set, written in French, bound in calfskin and marbled paper and published in 1863.

His wife is a French teacher.

Well!

I have mentioned to any number of folks, only half-jokingly, that the books here are like orphan children placed in my care until I can find them a good and deserving home. And what better home for the French-speaking children than the library of a French teacher?

Their place on the shelf in the front of the shop is still vacant and may be for a day or two. It can serve to remind me that – in the purchase of a beautiful set of antique books – there is no regret that is not offset by the satisfaction of giving them over to someone who will appreciate them just as much.

Au revoir, mes enfants…

We’ll be here early in the holiday week, so

Come visit!

McHuston

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

Baseball and the Battered Box.

Maybe it’s in the blood. Sports fan DNA or something. Some of us jump up and yell and some of us wonder – What’s the Big Deal?

Confession here: I’m a jumper.

I’m blaming it on the blood. I remember sitting with my Grandpa John in his big easy chair – talking baseball – when I was young enough to fit in the chair beside him. Kansas City was close enough to his house in Parsons that their team worked just fine as the one to cheer for. Probably are some folks in Parsons pulling for KC to win the World Series, but these days they’re rooting for the Royals.

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Back in Grandpa’s easy chair days, they were the Kansas City Athletics and he was tolerant of my NY Yankee sentiments. Before the A’s, Kansas City had one of the Yank’s minor league teams and they had been doing about as well as their Major League brothers. Grandpa John probably could have recited the league standings on any given day.

There in the big chair, I squirmed around the newspaper he was reading – sports page, of course.

Next to the chair, on the little table, was a radio tuned to a baseball game. The sound was down on that big wood-cabinet television across the room, but grass-lined diamond on the screen clearly indicated baseball, even if the picture was in black and white.

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Here’s the deal though. My memories of Grandpa John are of a man not much given to shouts and whoops at the crack of bat. Maybe others have different recollections of him, but in my memory he always seemed to be a laid-back, quiet sort of Grandpa. (He was said to have some harsh discussions with other drivers while he was on the road and behind the wheel, something else I may have inherited.)

I don’t remember him giving an approving shout at a line drive through the gap with men on base, score tied, bottom of the ninth – but he was a fan all the same.

And he was certainly patient.

Grandpa John’s television pulled in those ball games through an antenna mounted on the roof of the house. And that thing had to be aimed at the TV station to get a decent picture. Toward that end, he had a box on top of the television with a big plastic knob that controlled the motor that turned the antenna.

It made a great ratcheting sound, that box. Turn the knob and ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk, the arrow moved around to indicate the direction of the antenna. I turned that thing often enough that the neighbors must have imagined the Huston house was helicopter-powered and ready to take flight.

Probably I didn’t know about anything skyward being turned by my fiddling with the rotor box. There was some kind of explanation once, kid-level-science details that whipped right through my ears and back out.

The box looked a lot like the one in the picture, to the best of my recollection. Thinking back on it, there is a vague memory of the TV growing all-fuzzy and then clearing up again. But the ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk was the thing.

You just don’t get that with digital, kids.

The KC cousins and I are pulling for the Royals. Pick a team and do your own jumping, or just watch us and wonder: What’s the deal?

We’ve got sports books on the shelf and Dustin and I will be stepping up to the plate at lunchtime, so…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 S. Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

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