Best Quote of the Day: June 30

Dear Reader -  Yesterday's quote of the day came from a young couple who were hanging with me during siesta-time, as we listened to Bombay Bicycle Club's _Flaws_ (the perfect siesta-time album):

"This is probably the coolest store I've ever been in," she said.

"Yeah," he replied.

Contentedly  - Jen

The Glamorous Life of an Independent Bookseller (or My Adventure with Captain Underpants)

Dear Reader -  You know you got something special goin' on when you say to your dog and cat, "I'll be right back, ladies! I have to go on a mission for Captain Underpants . . ."

Spot and Nellie were riveted at the prospect.

Rewind a tick, I was on the phone with Linda (who was filling in on Wednesday evening for Zac [who's away at an economics conference {you know, I really gotta do a posting on our little biblion family - we have some really-super-cool-not-your-garden-variety-cliched-hipster-snob-bookstore-employees who work with us}]) about an electrical matter when a crisis arose in the shop: a kid who'd been in earlier in the day and had seen two Captain Underpants books was back, only to find them gone - and, you guessed it, some other kid was probably curled up reading them that very moment. He was bummed - and who would be? Captain Underpants is singularly awesome.

I thought I might have more up in the sorting room, so hung up with Linda (who was gonna go search biblion's stacks, just in case), made my aforementioned declaration (I really am in danger of becoming the crazy pet lady when Miss C goes off to school, talking to the pets like that - and she's only been gone a week this time around!), left Nellie and Spot, and headed up to pile through the boxes of kids' books. Sure enough, I came up with two. First I found the classic, Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants:

And then I found a bit of an outlier - a rare find, so to speak, in the Underpants world, The Captain Underpants Extra-Crunchy Book o' Fun:

And who doesn't want their books o' fun to be extra-crunchy?

I called Linda back. Predictably, she'd had no luck. I told her of mine, but then I confessed my next obstacle: I'd changed from socially-acceptable clothing and was now wearing the most ratty PJs that a respectable crazy pet lady would wear - some Capri bottoms with dubious elastic in the waist and a crew shirt donated to me by my friend Emory. I knew that time was critical (a boy can only wait so long for Captain Underpants), so I scooped up Nellie, walked outta my house onto the streets of Lewes as if nothing was amiss, and drove my ratty-a__ self a couple blocks over to the shop - tossing the books out to Linda as we did our drive by.

Man, it was a here-I-come-to-save-the-day moment if ever there was one - one that deserves a little Andy Kaufman in its wake:

Socially-acceptably, if not glamorously, dressed  - Jenny

Save the Date: Revere Reed Book Release/Signing

Dear Reader -  On Friday, July 6 from 7-9 p.m., Ann Revere Reed, a biblion regular who grew up in Reho and now lives in Lewes, will be at the shop for the release of her first novel, On a Dime: Senseless in Lewes.

biblion's resident "local author reader," Ellen Hollingsworth, loved this book. I gave it to her one afternoon to review (a member of the biblion family reads every book we're asked to carry), and she brought it back the next day, exclaiming that she couldn't put it down. "It was a real page-turner!" she said.

Like Ann, Ellen has lived here forever, and she characterized the book's local settings as "spot-on." I was thrilled to hear that - love it when we can carry a book in which locals and visitors alike can enjoy reading about places that they recognize.

Keep your eyes out for a great story about the book in the Cape Gazette, and please plan to drop by and show her your support (it takes a lot of guts - and work! - to put yourself out there creatively!).

And if you see her around town, tell Ann congrats and that you'll see her on the 6th!

Sensibly  - Jen

P.S. And while you've got your calendar out, be sure to save the afternoon of September 15 for Taste the Fruit of the Vine from 3-6. This year Chanell and Chris Dagesse, who own Lewes Auto Mall, have kindly agreed to host the garden party/wine tasting/home tour benefit for the Sussex County Community Outreach Program.

Their Lewes home has been completely (I mean completely, from head to toe) renovated, and it's just stunning - their level of thoughtfulness in design and attention to detail is really impressive, with every corner of the home reflective of them (plus they're super sweet people, so that makes it even cooler). So plan to come and enjoy the party - taking a tour, digging some live tunes, and enjoying fine vintages paired with select bites from The Buttery's talented chefs - all for an awesome cause! Just for fun, here're a couple of casual pics that I shot when I was trying to figure out where the best light was for their photo in the Gazette . . .

My "year off"

Dear Reader -  I'm not quite sure how it came to this; but, somehow or another, we've ended up with a perception of "real" that connects most tangibly for many of us to the ethereal world of the digital. Things aren't really real unless we feel like we can touch them all the time, no matter where our fingers lie.

Now our little shop is situated on the main street of what's too often called "the first town in the first state." There's a whole'lotta tangible going on here in Lewes. But there's a whole'lotta ethereal, too, what with our grip on history and legend and tradition. biblion skitters around the edges of all that. We live in the only Italianate building here in Sussex County (per Lewes's leading historian, Hazel Brittingham) - a building where a myriad of beloved businesses set up shop, where members of the Coast Guard took their meals during WWII, where the Brittinghams fed Lewes's teenagers in the 50s, and where pre-teens hid behind St. Peter's walls and threw odd things at the bigger kids as they went to hang out at Mitchell's in the 70s (per Ed and Dickie). History happened here - big H and little h.

 

(photo by Mike Mahaffie)

But mostly we embody the whole present tense, "bricks and mortar" thing. We're all about the magic that can only happen when we're physically together in a space - together with each other, together with books, together with ideas. The five of us who work here see it every day. Magic.

As Ricky Ricardo would say, I've got some 'splainin' to do: it's been a long, long while since I've given much attention to this ethereal, digital world. But I didn't realize just how much our online presence was missed 'till two things happened: I stumbled across our first "review" on the Internet (which kindly apologized for our pathetic Web presence and said that we were cool anyhow - thank you Leah, K, for your kind words and for taking the time to share your thoughts!), and I had a guest all but beg me to come back to blogging (not really sure what I could've been saying that'd warrant that, but it was nice to know I was missed). These encounters made me realize that I'm ready to be "real" on the Internet yet again.

So where have I been? I've been riding through what has turned out to be my 13-year old daughter's last year at home. You see, Miss C is heading off to boarding school next year for her freshman year (or 3 as she'll be known at her high school).

You don't often think of going through the "empty-nest" thing at 13, but here we are. Miss C had an amazing year visiting schools, taking her SSATs, getting into schools, and choosing the one that was most C-like. She's in heaven. And I'm in heaven for having chosen to drop out of everything non-essential (even the things that I thought were essential, like musical performance) and having spent the year with her - mostly doing "nothing" together. Heaven, indeed.

She "graduated" from The Jefferson School a couple weeks back and is spending this week at her other home in Brooklyn, so I have a bit of elbow room to get back into the groove of writing to you. So much has happened and is going to be happening - so much fun, so much good. We're blessed, and I'm looking forward to sharing it all with you.

Commencing (with Miss C)  - Jenny

P.S. And in honor of Miss C's grin at her photo-snapping mama and just 'cause we can't help but share some of the tunes that we love to play at the shop (and I've been playing the heck outta his album), here's some tunage via Mr. Rawls . . .

Happy, Happy Birthday, Nellie!

Dear Reader -  Today is Nellie's first birthday!

It's hard to believe that she's only been with us for these few, short months - she feels so much a part of our lives here at biblion and Casa J&C.

We're celebrating the day with a little "sale" in her honor - giving an extra 5% off to anyone who spends $21 or more!

Here's the first picture I ever saw of Nellie (she was Penelope then - safe in the arms of her breeder, Candice Kane):

Her eyes turned out to be just as compelling in person, if not more so - and, as you may remember, it was her eyes that brought her to us, as mentioned in my first mention of her back in June (what kind of insanity makes a newly-minted retailer decide to get a puppy just before the resort summer hits, and then to save that darn kitten to boot? - ah well! - Nellie and Spot have become the best of friends, wreaking havoc on our household [and especially the other cats {yes, I'm in danger of being dubbed a crazy cat lady, gone beyond my two-cat minimum - I've decided that because Miss C and Nellie are part of the equation, we haven't tipped the scales, yet}]).

She has turned out to be an awesomely awesome shop dog, save for her tendency to bark (okay, she yaps, it's embarrassing really; we try to tell her that nobody likes a yappy dog - that it's simply unattractive - to no avail) at other dogs. Here's a shot that I took of her with my iPhone to share with one of my card reps the other day. She spends most of the day sleeping under my desk, coming out to greet the guests who want to be greeted:

So, stop by if you can and join us in wishing Nellie a happy, yappy birthday!

Celebratorily yours  - Jenny

A worthy reason to get back up on that blogging pony, sister!

Dear Reader -  I've missed you. And I feel like my life's awash in a sea of biblion stories that're just aching for a place to funnel 'em.

But what's brought me here today is the 10th anniversary of the start of our War in Afghanistan, an action precipitated by the attacks less than a month before and followed up a couple years later with the Iraq War.

Right about the time of the art show this summer I received an email from a local author named Terri Clifton:

Hello. My name is Terri Clifton and I am contacting you about the book A Random Soldier.
My son Chad was a 2003 graduate of Cape Henlopen High School. He joined the Marine Corps that summer and went to Iraq in 2004. Before he left he made me promise to tell his story if he didn't make it home. Chad was killed in action in February 2005.
I wrote and self published his book, but have only in the past year regained the energy it takes to attempt to bring the book forth. It is available at Browseabout but I stumbled across your store (while having dinner with my husband at Agave) and wondered if you would be at all interested. Both Chad and the book are easily googled.
Thank you for your time,
Terri

I totally remembered her son. biblion's Memorial Day commemoration included pictures and brief bios on all of the men and women from Delaware who'd been lost in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and Chad's strikingly youthful face was hard to forget:

I also remembered how the young people at our church were devastated the day that we heard of his death.

Terri and I eventually connected after the fray of the art show, and I immediately began carrying her book (it's worth noting that Terri is not selling her book for profit - she's just looking to cover her self-publishing expenses - to that end, biblion isn't profiting from it either). As Terri'd mentioned, she hadn't yet put much energy into marketing the book, for understandable reasons, and I began noodling on how we could do more to get Chad's story out than simply having it out in the midst of our shop.

And then it hit me, the tenth anniversary of September 11th was coming up and, of course, the Afghan War started shortly after. Sure enough, I went to Google it and found that October 7 was the date. Given that the "drumbeat" of 9/11 anniversary coverage was already audible this summer, I expected that the media'd have a field day with the war. As such, I thought that a low-key reading by Terri would be a nice counter-point to all of the Sturm und Drang of the politicized coverage on the 24/7 news networks.

Boy, did I turn out to be wrong.

At first I thought that the fact that I wasn't hearing anything about the anniversary was because I'm watching/listening to the news so infrequently these days, caught up in the Sturm und Drang of the happy fray of my own little life. But then I started doing Google searches and found virtually no mention among the major news outlets. Thousands of lives lost, tens of thousands of lives shattered, and no words.

But enough of my dismay . . .

Terri agreed that doing a reading on that date seemed apropos, so we put it on the schedule:

Friday, October 7

6:00 p.m.

Reading

Saturday, October 8

10:00 a.m. to Noon

Meet and Greet with the Author

What I love about Terri's book is that it gives the reader a direct, unfiltered, and unapologetic perspective on one soldier's experience of war - and likewise some sense for what it was like for his family and friends. Since I didn't have any personal experience with war myself, having no friends or family who'd served, I found Chad's words and Terri's reflections truly enlightening and compelling. And from what I've seen at biblion, those who have served or been part of military families have had a different experience with the book, often finding it to be a bridge of understanding between the service members and their stateside families. I also love that there's absolutely no political agenda in it - no romantic war-related ideals, no anti-war drumbeats. It's just about a young soldier and the people whom he loved:

 

So it you have a pocket of time on Friday evening or Saturday morning, come on down and mark the day with us at biblion. We'd love to see you.  - Jen

P.S. I've had an issue with getting the word out about this earlier in the Cape Gazette (got the wrong deadline from a new guy, per Bernadette), so I'd appreciate anything you all can do to help folks know about this - I think that Terri's words could be a real help to many families as they live the realities of war.

P.S.S. I thought I'd find a way to work Chad's dad into my stream of consciousness-ness above, but the flow took another path. That being as it is, I still wanted to share Rich's incredible work with you - seeing that he has two such creative and extraordinary parents speaks to how much we've lost in losing Chad, too. Rich is a nationally-know wildlife painter:

You can see more of his work here at www.RichardCliftonWildlifeArt.com.

Lament of the Resort Retailer (Erstwhile) Blogger

Dear Reader -  A month! It's been a bl___y month since I was here last [she exclaims with the requisite level of incredulity]!

I thought at the first of the summer that it was just my initial adjusting to juggling home, charity, and shop commitments that was my blogging stumbling block, but now I see that the stumbling has not ended, nor do I see an end in sight.

It makes me sorta sad, 'cause I do love sharing stories (oh, and heaven knows, dear Reader, we've had more than our fair share of 'em at little biblion this summer!), but I have to resign myself to the realities of the laws of physics (my dear grandfather, Fred, born in 1900, went to catch the train to college in a buckboard wagon - he eventually made it from Sedalia, Missouri, to Baldwin, Kansas, where he graduated with a degree in physics from Baker - he always said, "Everybody needs a little 'fuzzicks.'"). I cannot do everything. Balls must drop. And I must be content with standing here and watching them lying on the ground. I'm thinking that Grandpa and Grandma would understand much more than my childlike perceptions of them would guess:

The good news is that even while I sit here, rather ineffectual as a blogger, the world does move on. And we have been having a spectacularly lovely summer here at biblion. The magic that happened last February hasn't stopped. And folks keep finding us - from all corners of the world.

This week we received a call from Dan Shortridge of the Wilmington News Journal (since Delaware's so tiny, the NJ is kinda like a state paper, though we have some awesome local papers - like our own, independent Cape Gazette, which has been awesome to us). He was pulling together a story about the used book market and spent some time chatting with me - and then he sent his photographer, Jen, down to take a few shots of the shop (which, before she arrived as chock full of regulars and visitors, the last of whom cleared out as she opened the door - and, as soon as she left, as she predicted, the shop filled up again!). They were sweet enough to run a picture of biblion on the front page of yesterday's edition and to include some great quotes from our guests to lead the article. It was super kind of them. Very happy.

So I'm off now to gather up a few books to fill in the shelves, yadda, yadda, yadda. As Miss C said in a  dreamy voice yesterday, "I just love the shape of our life!"

Contentedly  - Jenny

The Love of My Life

Dear Reader -  After Miss C, our houseful of pets (by the way, our home for Spot fell through - they had lots of love to give, but they also had lots of houseguests coming between now and August who're allergic to cats - if you know of someone who could provide an appropriate home for her, just let me know), and now little biblion, the love of my life for the past five years has been St. Peter's Art Show:

This year marks the show's 45th anniversary, and I've had the privileged of chairing the event for the past five years. Always held on the first Saturday of July, St. Peter's is a mainstay of the Lewes Independence Day festivities.


I love it. It's the perfect blend of small town charm with some really wonderful, "big city" fine art and fine crafts. And everybody and their brother's dog from St. Peter's pitches in to help make it happen.

We have a great mix of stellar local talent and other artists who travel from as far away as New England and Florida to be a part, with 140 total exhibitors:

 

 

 

 

 

 

In addition to the four blocks of artists, the show also boasts a featured artists' raffle (this year it's Judy Hagen, Peter Saenger, and Kim Klabe, each of whom have donated gorgeous pieces), a fantastic silent auction (to which our artists have donated around 100 items), and our Famous Turkey Salad Croissant luncheon (for which Connie Miller has been making the salad since 1983, following in the footsteps of her mother):

There's even a fun jazz combo from D.C., a children's art project (sponsored by Rehoboth Art & Framing), and face painting by Karen Letonoff:

So if you have a bit of time tomorrow between 9 and 4, stop by and join the fun! We'd love to see you there! (Don't forget - there's free parking down at Sheild's Elementary and the old Lewes School, with a free shuttle running all day, provided by Prudential Gallo!). It's a happy dance kinda day!  - Jenny

Spot: A long story long

Dear Reader -  Well, it's been an interesting week, with a wee bit of extra texture to add to the girl-starting-new-business-while-running-old-one-and-gearing-up-for-the-large-special-event-that-she-runs energy!

Here is the lion's share of the texture:

 

Miss C and I have named her Spot. Why?

When I was driving back from (the awesome) Canterbury Used Furniture in Felton with my new filing cabinets last Sunday, I was cutting over Fourth Street between New Road and Burton, heading through a little stretch of woods. A bit of movement drew my eyes to the right, and there I saw a tiny black spot hopping into the dense undergrowth:

A kitten! A kitten that appeared to be all alone!

I quickly pulled over, put on my hazards, and went to peer into the woods. Sure enough, there she was. Not a minute later, a Lewes PD car stopped by to ask if I was okay, I explained that I'd just seen a little kitten, thinking maybe the fellas'd help me find her, but they just nodded and went on their way.

As the kitty had hunkered down in the brush, looking pretty darn terrified and not the least bit interested in my heeere-kitty-kitty-kitties, I decided not to lumber after her into the woods, sensing that that'd be counter-productive. As I crouched at the edge of the woods, a few more cars slowed as they passed, some folks warily asking me, "are you okay?" I explained about the kitten, watching her sink further into the woods with each encounter.

I then decided that food might be the key. So I told her I'd be back, hopped back in my Pilot, and headed around the corner to get some food at the house. I dumped all my stuff in the entryway, grabbed an old plastic Chinese takeout container, filled it with some of Midnight (Miss C's kitty that Santa told her to rescue in first grade) and Sinai's (the "transitional object" that Miss C's dad and I rescued in 1993 or 4 [I can never remember]) food. I headed back over, shook the food bowl while reciting my heeere-kitty-kitty-kitties, and the placed it at the edge of the woods.

I proceeded to plop onto the sidewalk, keeping my distance and giving Spot some calm space and time to approach the bowl. I sat there for awhile, fielding the inevitable "are you okays?" that came my way. And then I glanced up and saw what appeared to be someone walking their little Yorkshire Terrier straight down the sidewalk in our direction.

"Crap!" I thought. "That's not gonna help get this kitty outta the woods at all!"

But then I did a double-take and realized, while I initially hadn't seen the dog-walker, I assumed they were obscured behind one of the trees along the sidewalk:

But in that double-take I realized: that darn dog was walking down the sidewalk all alone! I looked over at the kitten, creeping toward the food bowl, I looked over at the dog, blithely walking our way. "Really?" was the only thing that went through my little head. Utter dismay.

I hopped up and headed for the pooch, immediately motivating it to pull a u-turn and head back down the other side of the street. I moved quickly down the street after it, trying not to send it in to an all-out freak-out mode by running madly. I did however, start to flag down the cars heading towards us, not wanting them to squish the little doggy. The first car stopped and the woman in the passenger seat hopped out.

"I have no idea who's dog this is," I cried out. "Oh my gosh!" she replied. We proceeded to corral the dog, and she grabbed her. "We're just on our way back to D.C.," she said. So, of course, I took the dog, glancing wistfully back toward the cat, wondering what in the heck I was gonna do. I asked a few other folks out for walks if they knew the dog, to no avail. Then I pushed the food bowl a little further into the brush, so that a passing dog wouldn't get at it, and the dog and I hopped into the car.

The "what the heck am I gonna do" thought went through my head again, as I knew that my vet's office wouldn't be open to check if the dog was microchipped. Then it hit me: we keep an extra kennel at the shop for Nellie, so I decided to head there. I stepped on the gas and drove in that direction, swerving around one of the out-for-a-walk ladies that I'd seen earlier who was stopped chatting on the side of the road with a passing pickup truck.

And when I was about make the next turn it dawned on me: "I bet those people were asking her about the dog!" I swung back around and gunned it back to the woman, swerving over to the side of the road and asking her, "Were those people looking for the dog?" (the dog snugly tucked under my left arm). She said, "Yes! I just sent them back to where I saw you last!"

Off I went, the dog and I driving like mad women after the truck. We finally managed to get their attention. I hopped out the car, running up to ask them, "Is this your dog?" "Yes!" the man cried! "Her name is Precious!"

The man's name was George, and, being a very kind man, he immediately wanted to help me with the kitty. I was a little concerned, remembering how she cowered with each additional visitor, and, sure enough, she kept sinking deeper and deeper into the woods. I tried for quite awhile, and then I mentioned maybe giving it a break. George had a super suggestion: just leave a little food for the kitty, in the hope that it'd return for more. So I shook a few kibbles out into the lid of the container and took off for home, realizing that Miss C'd probably be pretty worried by now. I'd been gone a long time, and my cell phone was sitting in the entryway being of no use.

I stepped in the house and told her all about it. She, of course, wanted to come and see. We gave it a few minutes, and then we headed back over: Miss C watching from the car, so as not to further spook the kitty, and me with my food-shaking and my heeere-kitty-kitty-kitties on the sidewalk. We tried a couple more times to no avail, and then we went home to feed our pets and hang out for a bit.

At 9:00 I headed over to the shop to close'er up (at some point in the earlier process, I don't even remember when now, I also ran over to the shop to get the extra kennel, thinking we could put the kitty in it, if we caught her - Grace was already there for her shift, so I told her about the kitten, and then I ran into the our beneficent landlord, Mr. Ted, at his liquor store [I felt that the occasion warranted a glass of something interesting] - he said that he might know someone who'd be interested in her [to my great relief]).

I sent Grace home, since she was feeling a little punk, and I had folks 'till 10:00, so I didn't get back to the woods to check on the kitty 'till pretty late. I called and called. No sign of kitty. I climbed back into my car, pointed it toward home and stopped dead as I saw the little black spot, hopping at the edge of the brush - I tried calling her again, she meowed in reply, but she stayed put. I finally gave up for the night.

Monday morning I woke up to pouring rain. My first thought: Oh no! The kitten! I grabbed the little dish of food and headed over straight away. I got soaked through, calling out my kitty-kitty-kitties, and fielding a few "are you okays?" No sign of the kitten  - no sightings, no meows, nothing. A woman walked by, asking if I was okay, and when she heard about the kitten being out all night said, "You live in this neighborhood, right? And you know how many foxes we have?" Images of little tufts of black fur being left behind on the floor of the woods came to mind. I was crushed, thinking that I may have given up on her too quickly the night before. But I couldn't dwell on the possibility: it was a work day, and I had to head back home to get Nellie and myself ready.

When the clock struck 5:00, I dropped Nellie home and headed back. What did I find? A little spot curled in a ball next to the little food bowl! I brought the new food out to her, shaking it gently and trying to coax her further out of the woods. She made it all the way to the bowl a few times, but she was far too wary to let me get anywhere near her, basically inhaling the kibble just a quickly as she could.

I heard a car pull up behind me - a husband and wife on their way out to dinner with friends. We chatted for a couple about the kitten, and then the woman said that she had a no-kill trap. She said she'd get it to me on Tuesday, to which I said, "Thank you! But I'm kinda concerned about the foxes . . ." She replied, "We'll be right back."

Her name was Jackie, and she brought a little wire cage/trap, some newspaper to line it, and a can of food to entice her in. It didn't take but a minute or two for the trap to do its job. And the poor little kitty was terrified. I quickly snatched her up and popped it in the car with me. She looked at me with fear and accusation in her eyes - she'd just started to sorta trust me, and I'd completely betrayed her. I took her back home, got her situated with food and water and a litter box in a spare bath.

As you can see from this picture, dear Reader, it didn't take Spot long to learn to trust me and Miss C again:

She was particularly magical with Miss C as she removed over 20 ticks from her little skin-and-bones frame. The poor little thing. She just lay there, still as a stone, purring away, letting Miss C do away with one tick after another.

I came to learn that Jackie was actually the person that Ted had in mind for the kitty, since she's a leader in the active cat rescue movement in Lewes. She has provided us with milk for the kitty, as well as her worm medication, and an offer to "fix" her at next to no cost and provide her shots. Jackie's been a Godsend. She also told us a series of horror stories of folks who've abused cats (some intentionally, some unwittingly), cautioning us to be very careful about finding her a new home.

We're looking - figuring that her right home will find us soon (Miss C's conditions are the she get to visit Spot and be her catsitter). Until then, we love Spot. Truly  - Jen

All a'twitter

Dear Reader -  When I created a facebook account for little biblion, I created a Twitter account, too. Now, I had no earthly clue what the heck I'd do with said account. So there it's been sitting, gathering a few kind "followers," who've had nothing to follow!

But then an idea dawned: We get fun books in from time to time, and I can use Twitter to let the virtual universe know about them. So here I am in the wake of my first Twitter posting (sorry, I just can't bring myself to call it a "tweet"), feeling all a'twitter myself:

(Dear Reader, it's worth noting that I posted for the first time a day or so ago - and I started this blog then, too, but I ran into problems with the illustrative pictures that I took on my darn iPhone . . . oh, and we had a little kitty cat incident that I'll tell you about later. Ah well!)

The books that I wrote my 140 characters about yesterday were from the estate of our friend, Frank Sanna. Frank was the kindest of souls. He fought in WWII and was one of the many who made good use of the GI Bill upon his return. He learned to sew - expertly. And as the years progressed, Frank constantly found ways to use his extraordinary skill to serve and to give back to others.

Beyond his family and the love of his life, Donald, Frank's great love was movies. And when Donald brought Frank's books in, he told me how Frank and his friends would pour over their reference books for hours, comparing notes and sharing stories about the films that they loved. It's been a joy to watch others get a kick out of his books, too.

Thank you, Frank - thank you, Donald. Tweetlee-deet to you!  - Jenny

P.S. And can you find what film this tune's been in?

P.S.S. If you wanna see the books we're posting about we're @BiblionBooks (or at least I think that's how we're supposed to say it!).