Clap Your Hands if You Believe in Indie Bookstores

Last night I dreamed that, like Tinkerbell, if everyone who believes in independent businesses -- and, in particular, independent bookstores -- would clap their hands, The Mystery Bookstore would have a chance at surviving.

So clap loudly, friends and family. Tinkerbell's glow is flickering weakly, but she still has a chance...

Linda

Happy Birthday, Husband!

Tim's birthday is this week, so we had a few friends over last night to celebrate. Gigi and her daughter Olivia, Scott and Jill and their kids Adam and Audrey. Gigi, Scott and Tim have known each other since Tim's undergrad days up at Cal Arts. They've remained welcome constants in a world that can change too easily; and they have pretty cool kids, too!

Jill and Audrey provided the incredible oreo cheesecake -- there's still some sitting in the fridge, tormenting me. But the writing on the cake caused some laughter, because it appears to read "Happy Birthelay" -- so naturally, we serenaded Tim accordingly.

Lulu and Digit are still...well, let's just say they are not the best of friends. Hence the card, which reads "Age before Beauty" -- Digit definitely believes that to be the case. And what's a birthday without some toys? I suspect Tim's new "Paparazzi" toys will be a hit at his office.

Brief Encounters

The past few months I've been sitting around feeling pretty sorry for myself: the adoption process is not proceeding as I would like; my job situation is precarious and I feel unfit to find any other line of work in a poor economy for job-hunting; I worry about my brothers constantly; our kitchen is still not finished, so my house is still in disarray; my best friend is somewhat incommunicado these days; and there is nasty infighting going on at my church, which, quite frankly, makes me avoid going to church, a place I used to find to be a haven.

But, for some odd reason, as I was sitting here sipping my morning coffee and dreading getting ready to go work, a man I met twenty years ago popped into my head. It was back in the days of when I was canvassing for Illinois Public Action Council; we'd been sent down to this lovely old neighborhood, probably not far from where former Chicago mayor Jane Byrne grew up, full of early 20th century brick houses and tidy lawns. It must have been spring, because I remember green grass. And at one of the houses where I knocked on the door, this lovely old gentleman invited me onto his porch and offered me iced tea and cookies. We chatted for a few moments about the issues I was covering -- we focused on utility issues a lot at that time, to regulate or not -- and, as I recall, I don't believe he agreed with our view. But he was open-minded and courteous, almost courtly.

And as I left his home, he presented me with a potted flower that he'd grown himself. And he thanked me for visiting with him.

It really does make a difference how we treat people we encounter, even so briefly. Because twenty years later, the kindness he showed me helps me face this day a little more readily.

Linda

Linda's 15 Minutes

If you're at all a fan of crime fiction, you probably know the name Robert Crais -- he writes a mystery series set in Los Angeles, featuring a sardonic private investigator named Elvis Cole, who wears loud Hawaiian shirts and has a ... difficult relationship with the LAPD. Bob has been a great friend to The Mystery Bookstore, where I'm the assistant manager, and has become something of a pal of mine.

We had a lot of fun hosting a signing event this past Independence weekend for Crais. I'm deeply flattered to report that in this new book, Chasing Darkness, I've been cast a in a bit part as a police detective, along with the store manager, Bobby. I persuaded Bobby to join me in dressing the part of detective; and we put the sales staff in Hawaiian shirts. We actually had a great turnout of fans -- I was a bit worried, considering the holiday weekend. But 75-80 folks turned out, and we had a lot of fun.

It may be the swan song for the bookstore, which is in dire financial straits, so it was a somewhat bittersweet experience. But, what the hell, go out on a good note, eh?!

Linda

Chicken Palace, Las Cruces-Style

Stuart sent these photos of his summer vacation project, a chicken coop for the newest additions to their menagerie. I still haven't gotten an answer to the rather delicate question: what do they intend to do with the dozen or so chickens they've acquired? Evidently, they are rapidly outgrowing the cute, fuzzy, peeping stage, and require their own accommodations.

I also haven't heard back how Stuart and Leslie intend to decorate the palace -- but with Leslie's flair, I'm sure it will be colorful and eye-catching. And with her new knee, the next photo will probably show her up on the ladder adding some finishing touches!

Happy Independence Day!

love, Linda

Java Jane

So, I'm standing there in front of our espresso machine this morning, frothing my milk, thinking, "God, I can't wait for that first sip." And I have to laugh at myself, because I sound like a bad TV character waiting for the first hit of whatever fix or drug they're doing.

Yesterday, the news reported that Starbucks will be closing 600 outlets. Someone on the street was interviewed, and his response was outrage: "But, like, caffeine is an addiction! So how can they close Starbucks? What will people do?" Hmmm. Then, according to his logic, if something is an addiction, there is a moral if not legal obligation to provide supply to the public for that addiction? And heaven help them if they have to resort to going to Peet's or the corner donut shop (which, granted, makes killer donuts, but lousy coffee).

It reminds me of the customer who came into the bookstore a couple months back, lamenting the closing of a famous and popular independent bookstore in Los Angeles, in the tony (read: affluent) neighborhood of Brentwood. She came into our store because she "wants to support independent bookstores" -- and declared "there should be grants or something for stores like yours!"

Then she admitted that she rarely buys books; she goes to the library. And she walked out of our store without spending a penny.

Now, I'm not knocking libraries. But how the hell could she miss the point that bookstores -- while we often serve as community gathering points -- are not intended to be non-profits? And that we need people to actually buy books in order for us to stick around to feed their addictions for books, book news, meeting authors, and so on.

I need another hit of my cappucino.

love, Linda (aka Java Jane)