March 13th, 2005
books
Today I watched two girls dig through stacks of my books. I watched them decide which ones were worth something and which ones were just going to be donated. I listened to them ooh and ahh over some of the more unusual books, and occasionally I volunteered an answer to a muttered query (”I see Millenium Approaching, but where are you, Perestroika?” “I never bought Perestroika, it’s not in there.” “Oh, OK. Well, I think we have a copy of it, so yours will still probably sell.”)
It was hard. As they gave me my receipt for $55, I let my gaze linger on the piles they’d created, eyes wandering over familiar titles and cover art. So many good books. I know I don’t need them, I know they were just taking up space, I know if I ever want them again, I will have no trouble finding copies of them. But I still felt that twinge of sadness at saying goodbye to old friends.
comments
I hear you. Books are about my biggest weakness in terms of gluttony. I want them all, and once I have them, I never want to let go. We long ago ran out of shelf space, but we just can’t stop. When we move, our friends always complain about the heavy boxes of books they get to lug around. Somebody please stop us before we buy again!
When my wife and I bought our current place (which is much smaller than our old place) we had to–for the first time ever–get rid of some books. It was gut wrenching… I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. I’m already plagued with regret.