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....
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