Here’s my response to Sammi’sWeekend Writing Prompt. According to Lexico, a bibliopole is a bookesller, a dealer in rare or used books, and we did have one a few towns away. If you’re interested, read the Factat the end.
Still there, they say. Rows of shelves full floor to ceiling; more books stacked in the aisles of his store. Next of kin don’t want them. Bibliopole Ralph Crawford has passed on – but he couldn’t take them with him.
Fact: A rather eccentric older man with poor eyesight and thick-lens glasses, Ralph Crawford was a seller of old and rare books. He moved to a small town in this area from the Maritimes and became a local “character.” He bought an old bank building in Perdue, SK, to be his bookstore, with offices upstairs where he could live, then brought his stock in several semi-trailer loads, set up shelves, and established his store. Ralph’s store smelled musty and looked somewhat like the illustration above, but he knew his stock and could find subjects and authors for you. He did a lot of mail-order business, I’m told. He lived here maybe fifteen years? I heard Ralph passed away a couple of years ago. His relatives all live on the East coast — so now what does the town do with all those musty old books? Last I heard the question remains unanswered and the books are still there, waiting for someone to air them out and read them.
Our yard’s an avian paradise. Birdseed liberally sprinkled, water bowls, even a sprinkler on hot days. Cats trained to ignore birds. However will they manage in the real world?
This is no fiction tale. The noise in our yard can be deafening at times — like when I go out with my birdseed first thing in the morning. As I have written before, the birds aren’t the only ones taking advantage: in the past few weeks I’ve often seen a doe and her fawn drinking from the basin between us and the woods. A few days ago I was up at the crack of dawn and saw a jackrabbit hopping around my front yard water dishes. And I’m amazed how bold the birds are around my cats. Hummers will feed at flower pots right beside where the cats are lying!
“Why’s all this traffic on the road this morning?”
“Big country music jamboree near Regina. Starts at noon, every first of August.”
“Fast food places will be packed. Hope we can find a table when we’re ready to stop.”
“Feels funny, you know. All these folks heading for a party and we’re going to say our last goodbye to dear Aunt May. Solemn music, tears and tissues.”
Two hours later, as the funeral started, they were surprised to hear Garth Brooks singing “If Tomorrow Never Comes.”
Note/Confession: Funeral music has changed a lot, I thought as we listened to “Born To Be Wild” at the end of the service for my brother-in-law. Which gave me the idea for this story, but Google had to help me with this one. I’ve never heard this song, but read the words and it looked like something that might fly at a funeral — the general theme being, “Say those loving words today to the people you love, in case this is your last chance and tomorrow never comes.”
There is an annual Country music Jamboree every year at Craven a small town not far from Regina, SK. At least there was before COVID hit.
“What more surprises will this year bring,” she sighed as firefighters drenched their home and probably everything inside. All for a few flames on their deck. Her husband slipped his arm around her. “Well, no more barbecues this summer. Though I’m positive that new grill was defective.”