Trending
"I want you to put something in your column so people will donate bookshelves," my wife announced.
"Wait. What? You want me to do what? Why?"
Honey has a habit of springing things like that on me, ideas she has fully thought out and decided upon but which to me seem coming out of the blue. I can be a little like the S.S. Titanic, speeding along through life, having a grand old time and making 25 knots through the dark North Atlantic while willfully ignoring reports of icebergs ahead, and when some pesky lookout shouts "Hard a-port!!", I want to talk about it a little first.
"Bookshelves. For the used book store at The Way Station," Honey said, mildly exasperated. "I've been working on this for months. We have tons of books. We need bookshelves. You know all this."
"Yes, yes, but you said something about my column."
"If you put a little note in your column I'm sure someone will donate bookshelves. It's for charity."
"But in my column? This is not the classifieds. It's not Swap Shop. It's my column. I have a sacred duty to my readers to bring a little levity into their humdrum lives. I can't just throw an ad in there, like 'Eat at Joe's.'"
At this point in an argument Honey normally would be getting angry, but in this instance she softened and tried persuasion.
"The people who read your column are book readers. They would love to have a little used bookstore in East Liverpool, and this is something we need now to make it happen."
I hate it when she uses logic. Whatever she thinks ought to be done is so much easier to ignore when she gets too angry to talk about it.
"I'll think about it," I said, ending discussion for the moment.
My wife has made herself an expert on organizing and running used book sales, just as she has made herself an expert on so many things, such as doing income taxes for family and friends, and starting all kinds of plants from seed. Not to mention cooking. Tasty meals flow from her kitchen for the children and grandsons, people in difficult situations, and me. The prospect of having those tasty dishes continue to flow certainly is an inducement to remain on friendly terms with my dear spousal unit.
On the other hand, there is an ethical question here. This precious newspaper space is given to me every week for a higher purpose. My dear readers expect me to at least attempt to elicit a chuckle or a tear, or to stimulate their frontal lobes (or whatever part of the brain they use daily) with a bit of useful information. Should I betray this sacred trust by using it to beg for donations?
I do not deny that The Way Station, a charitable faith-based organization, is doing God's work by helping the poor and burdened among us. I am fully supportive of the plan to create a used book store in a vacant storefront adjacent to the thrift shop operated by The Way Station at 125 W. Fifth St.
Being writerly by trade and an avid and lifelong reader myself, I am decidedly in favor of anyone contacting The Way Station in person or by phone at 330.932.0353 to offer a donation of bookshelves.
But will I use my column to ask for that?
"I won't do it," I told my wife firmly. "It just isn't right."
If I must suffer personal consequences from that decision, so be it.
(The Old Fort Steuben gift shop is now carrying Fred Miller's third collection of stories, "A Dead Carp on Shadyside Ave." as well as his second book, "Falling Under Honey's Spell.")