The Points of His Compass

E.B. White wrote a book with copyright 1954-1958 and 1960 - 1962.  The copy I found in the FREE bin of Frugal Muse once had a place in the Madsion Public Library. Perfect penmanship of librarians inscribed order with numbers 824 W582p and SM 62 15077 on one of the nearly blank first pages. On 29 Oct 62 something was done with the book, and in February 67 I turned eight and the book dedicated to William Shawn was noted in pencil as Tr. from Main. I assume that means transferred. In red on the first page when the cover is opened we are notified the book is OFFICIALLY WITHDRAWN-SALE COPY. I wonder what price was paid to free this beauty from its cell in the public library.

Once a decimal less number held captive inside the perfect order of spaces patrolled by skinny women who demanded silence and protected the resting place of written ideas from disorderly conduct of adolescents and other homeless beings, Mr. White's treasure was paroled to the highest bidder some years ago. A rooster perched atop a weather vane, not a compass, is pressed into the soft hard cover. He sat patiently facing no apparent direction until one day the keeper of the book took him, probably along with others, to the Frugal Muse where he and the others were swapped for cash or in-store credit. How the book with the rooster ended up in the FREE stand and Twilight or New Moon have price tags baffles me.

My stack of vinyl albums from 1977-1981 moved from house to dorm to apartment to apartment to state to state to home to apartment to home to home and then to apartment once again. Last played some time when mullets and padded shoulder shirts, both for men and women were in style, the cardboard jackets grew to make me sneeze. I no longer have a needle on my record player and have no idea if needles are still sold. In fact, I don't think I own that record player. I know it is not in my possession.  Simply Discs reviewed my stack of wax and offered me $3.00 for one album by the Beetles and the 3 by Bruce Springsteen. I declined, not because the offer was low but because I didn't feel right leaving my youth with a person who didn't boost my self esteem. The man who appeared to have many more years of academia to his credit flipped through my collection the way house party attendees used to search in vain for something that wasn't western or eastern. In the end he confided in the 21st century version of the skinny librarian; an equally skinny girl with premature gray hair and cat eye glasses. His appraisal, with her blessing, concluded the Springsteen and Beetles would net me "not much, maybe $5.00". I bargained by asking if the five bills would include him taking Barbara Striesand and Boston off my hands because they make me sneeze and cringe.

The man gave me a wrinkled Lincoln and I wandered around the store fully intending to spend the bill on Greek Yogurt and blueberries, but I thought it polite to pretend. When I exited I saw the FREE stand which I had snubbed as beneath me on my way in to the used book store. Forever grateful I am for getting out of my ego. The black X on the front gray and black chest might have caught my eye and the gold letters on the spine drew my hand. Books that best fit me measure about 240 pages. This one opened to page 91 titled The Shape of the U.N. It starts "My most distinguished neighbor in Turtle Bay, as well as my most peculiar one, is the U.N., over the East River. " The heading reads "Turtle Bay, December 1, 1956". I love history that tells the story of the years just before I was born. It's fascinating to me that people were reminiscing about the past and contemplating the future while I was in the minors or sitting on deck. or in God's dugout waiting to be brought up. I like knowing that the future they feared is in the books as history we choose to rewrite to our liking.

E.B.'s compass and his rooster came home with me. I got them for free and spent the dough on Greek Yogurt and Michigan Blueberries. We went directly to my kitchen and then to a chair. The yogurt is history and The Points of White's Compass is my new friend. I think I will keep him on my bookshelves forever.