Not Broken

[posted on my phone—weird formatting]

Ever since I decided to seek help, I’ve felt kinda terrible—all my problems swam up to the surface. It helped to watch the clip from the Fred Rogers movie where the journalist says Mister Rogers loves people like him—broken—and Mister Rogers says, “I do not think you are broken".

No, I am not broken. If I were a book donation, I would put me in Cool Old Books. Broken in!

Sometimes the guys on the donation door will bring me boxes of books saying, “These look like good ones.”

That usually signals shiny hardbacks, which usually means worthless bestselling thrillers. Readers buy new Lee Childs, Clive Cusslers and the like in hardback because they’re eager to read them, as the publishers know; but once they’ve been read, and once the titles are in paperback (preferable for easy reading), the pretty hardbacks are like peanut shells on a barroom floor. 

I love soft old books that people have loved enough to read and reread and pass on. I put the crisp shiny hardbacks in recycling (they don’t sell even for 49 cents). I tape the cool old paperbacks’ broken corners and worn spines; I glue text blocks back into into cool old hardbacks’ cover boards; I unfold dog-eared pages, and erase pencil marks. 

We are not broken; we are well read.

II. Spanish Books 

Some of a great donation of Spanish literature in English and Spanish, (and some both, on facing pages), this week, by Spanish and Latin American authors. Many books are like-new.

I say “we got”, but no coworkers notice this unusual haul except the cashier from Mexico, who is a serious reader, and she’s been out sick. 

The other main cashier quit, saying “this place is too dangerous “. I’d quit too if I had to cashier—that is walking point, for sure. The third cashier is home for the week because his housemate has Covid.

 So it’s Asst Man on cash register, mostly, which he likes and is where he started. I think he may regret having become middle manager—it’s the worst of both worlds: responsibility without power. He could use some non-profit therapy too. 

The therapist will call me Monday afternoon for an intake chat. I’d wanted to show her the display of books that included three by Borges, but all the Borges sold the first day, even the worn copy of Ficciones. Funny what moves and what doesn’t.