Canterbury Tales

A friend from High School put up a post on FB, asking about our memories of the 1960's. Oddly, perhaps, this was my first thought...

I was just hanging out in my bedroom at home one night in 1964 or 65, a junior in High School. A floor to ceiling bookshelf dominated the wall opposite my bed, holding old books that mostly attracted dust. On the second row up from the floor, about 12 books in from the right, sat a tattered copy of Canterbury Tales, bound in a stained green jacket. It had always been there, a part of the landscape, like the cast iron cat that held the door open. As with many things we collect along the way and assign to a particular spot in the house, no one ever paid any attention to those books. Except for me. I had hollowed out the inside of Mr Chaucer's Tales and entrusted him with the safekeeping of my baggie of pot. That book was my stash safe. So anyway, my Dad came to my open door one evening and asked: “Don't we have an old copy of Canterbury Tales here somewhere?” Turning to the bookshelf, he started scanning the shelves. Apparently he needed to use it as a reference for one of the many New York Times crossword puzzles he wrestled with every night. My sirens went off as I exploded from zero to sixty in less than a second. Knowing that my Dad was a bit irrational about our dog ever getting loose, I jumped up excitedly: “Did you hear that? I think the dog is outside! She must have gotten out!” Dad immediately turned and rushed toward the front door and out onto the lawn to investigate. At the same time, I ran into the kitchen and scooped up Lucy, the flatulent old dachshund, from her dog bed and threw her unceremoniously out the back door. Then I ran upstairs to the living room where Dad had been sitting, and knocked over his glass of Coke onto the folded NY Times, drenching the crossword puzzle and much of the coffee table. Damn cat. Then it was back down to my room to hide the Chaucer.

So Dad retrieved the dog, cursed the cat, cleaned the table, threw out the soggy paper, and was back in La La land whistling and tapping his feet along with Lawrence Welk in less than 15 minutes. I was back on my bed, lounging, trying to get my heart to return to its normal rhythm... but that took considerably longer than 15 minutes....