Right from the beginning of the paperless era, I noticed a growing trend. People wanted their furniture and appliances sent, but they wouldn't pay shipping for their books. I threw some shelves up on the sixth floor, and in no time had a voluminous private library. I guess that most of the storage places charged to dispose of books, because word got around. Our family grew up reading, we all loved books.
Books are our friends.
We normally had a thousand or so books in the house at any time that would rotate through the second hand bookstores and library fund-raisers at the whim of their owners. I lived in a world of my choice, escaping into books opened in my lap in the classroom, and journeying into far galaxies on the bus. With the responsibilities of adulthood I had broken the addiction, but I promised myself I'd take it up again at a later date. I often lived for that promise. One day, in early '09, I had a call from the head officer of the Connecticut River Valley Library Association, asking for an appointment to inspect the premises.