No, I’ve not become infatuated with a local waterman, although it’s quite possible that some day I may be swept off my feet by one of these gentle men who call me “ma’am” in that delightful Southern accent. Their manners are impeccable, at least what I’ve seen in the bookstore so far. They have beautifully weathered faces, laugh easily, and I’ve certainly come to appreciate the difficult jobs they do. I’m waiting for the gentleman who recently purchased most of my Louis L’Amour paperbacks to bring me the fresh flounder he promised, another reason I may easily fall under their spell someday.
The love affair I’m telling you about today is between Rupert and Cheeka. Sadly, Rupert seems to have left any memory of his Northern love interest, MacKinley, far behind him. MacKinley is a large, white dog adopted by close friends who quickly became the alpha dog in the relationship, putting Rupert in his place at their first meeting. Something happened along the way, though, because Rupert, an extremely selective eater, became comfortable enough to devour MacKinley’s dog food whenever we visited our friends.
We met Cheeka and her owner on our morning walks on the Island Trail here on the Island, about the only place dogs are allowed. Rupert typically greets any other dog in a rather unfriendly manner. He believes the Island Trail is there for his use alone and he’s not one to welcome company. Cheeka is the kind of dog that Rupert usually barks determinedly at, the kind of dog we've referred to in the past as a “yippy” dog, because when Rupert would bark at such a dog, he’d get a “yippy” bark right back. Cheeka, however, is quiet and subdued. Her owner explained to us that she had been recently adopted and had come from a home where her previous owners were in the process of divorcing, a situation where a lot of “kicking and shoving” had gone on with Cheeka often caught in the middle.
Rupert would instantly transform into a gentleman at the sight of tiny Cheeka approaching us on the Island Trail. He would sit beside us, regarding her as we chatted with Cheeka’s owner, allowing her to pass with never a bark. After several days of this, Rupert would begin whining in excitement when he’d see Cheeka approaching, then start prancing, but would still sit again once she was beside us. Cheeka was not ready for him yet. Somehow he knew this.
This morning we were late going for our walk. We met Cheeka and her owner on the road to the Island Trail. We had to roll our car window down so Rupert could see Cheeka as the whine from the back seat was so loud we couldn’t hear. And as we were chatting with Cheeka’s owners, darling Cheeka put her paws on the side of our car, trying to reach Rupert, “Juliet” courting her “Romeo”.
I’m anxious to see what their next meeting brings.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Expectations
My father always told me I expected too much. He also told me, beginning at a very early age, that life wasn’t always fair, that the sooner I learned to accept that, the easier my life might be.
I’ve always struggled with this. That whole “do unto others as you’d have them do unto you” seems like a good way to live your life. If I want someone to respect me, I need to respect them. If I don’t want to be lied to, I don’t lie to others. If I want my back scratched, I scratch yours. It seems simple to me. It doesn’t feel as though I’m expecting too much. If I can do it, can’t others?
We are such a blip in the universe and take ourselves so seriously. I guess living here on this beautiful island surrounded by nature makes me realize how insignificant one human being is in the grand scheme of things. It’s quite clear to me that we are not in charge. Every time we visit the beach, more sand has shifted, more shoreline altered. Every walk we take with Rupert on the Island Trail, another tree has fallen.
A customer recently was chatting with us, sitting on the loveseat by the fireplace in the bookstore after making his purchase. “There’s a piece of the Canary Islands that’s going to break off and send a tsunami this way. All these lovely books are going to get wet. What will you do when the waves hit?” he asked.
And it took me back to my time as a Human Resources Director when I had a saying typed out and taped to my computer monitor that helped me keep my sanity those days. I can’t remember where the words came from; I know I read them somewhere. They were words I imagined my father could have said to me, words that always calmed me, made me realize I could alter my expectations to meet the reality of any situation. It was the perfect opportunity to quote them.
I said, “If you can’t stop the waves, you can always learn to surf.”
I’ve always struggled with this. That whole “do unto others as you’d have them do unto you” seems like a good way to live your life. If I want someone to respect me, I need to respect them. If I don’t want to be lied to, I don’t lie to others. If I want my back scratched, I scratch yours. It seems simple to me. It doesn’t feel as though I’m expecting too much. If I can do it, can’t others?
We are such a blip in the universe and take ourselves so seriously. I guess living here on this beautiful island surrounded by nature makes me realize how insignificant one human being is in the grand scheme of things. It’s quite clear to me that we are not in charge. Every time we visit the beach, more sand has shifted, more shoreline altered. Every walk we take with Rupert on the Island Trail, another tree has fallen.
A customer recently was chatting with us, sitting on the loveseat by the fireplace in the bookstore after making his purchase. “There’s a piece of the Canary Islands that’s going to break off and send a tsunami this way. All these lovely books are going to get wet. What will you do when the waves hit?” he asked.
And it took me back to my time as a Human Resources Director when I had a saying typed out and taped to my computer monitor that helped me keep my sanity those days. I can’t remember where the words came from; I know I read them somewhere. They were words I imagined my father could have said to me, words that always calmed me, made me realize I could alter my expectations to meet the reality of any situation. It was the perfect opportunity to quote them.
I said, “If you can’t stop the waves, you can always learn to surf.”
Monday, January 3, 2011
This Winter Without Boots
I can still see the grin on the face of that tiny old Korean woman who left my garage sale with my winter parka tucked over her arm the day before we left Syracuse, New York for Chincoteague, Virginia. She had talked me into selling it to her for $3, and as I was so certain I’d never need it again, I was happy to do so! Ha! I should have realized her smile wasn’t a smile of gratitude but her way of saying, “Sucker!” or whatever the equivalent might be in Korean.
Winter did indeed hit this beautiful island paradise, making us wish we hadn’t sold our boots, too. We refused to go out and buy replacements, though. I just added extra pairs of socks and pulled my sneakers on, or let hubby walk Rupert on the mornings I couldn’t bear to go outside. The snow didn’t pile up – only about six inches compared to sixty – and the temperatures stayed in the thirties. Living on the water with no building on one side of us, however, means we feel each and every blast of the 40 mph winds that blew our way.
The big difference, though, is the sunshine. We see it almost every day. How nice it is not to deal with stretches of grey skies!
And our commute down those thirteen stairs from the apartment to the bookstore is so much nicer, too! Even though Rupert still insists on going outside a couple of times a day, we basically have been able to stay inside and rearrange the store. We are getting to know the locals and welcoming return customers, still enjoying each and every day…..even the wintry ones.
Winter did indeed hit this beautiful island paradise, making us wish we hadn’t sold our boots, too. We refused to go out and buy replacements, though. I just added extra pairs of socks and pulled my sneakers on, or let hubby walk Rupert on the mornings I couldn’t bear to go outside. The snow didn’t pile up – only about six inches compared to sixty – and the temperatures stayed in the thirties. Living on the water with no building on one side of us, however, means we feel each and every blast of the 40 mph winds that blew our way.
The big difference, though, is the sunshine. We see it almost every day. How nice it is not to deal with stretches of grey skies!
And our commute down those thirteen stairs from the apartment to the bookstore is so much nicer, too! Even though Rupert still insists on going outside a couple of times a day, we basically have been able to stay inside and rearrange the store. We are getting to know the locals and welcoming return customers, still enjoying each and every day…..even the wintry ones.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday...A Day Off
We close the bookstore on Mondays. There’s something wonderful about having Monday off when the rest of the world goes to work. It doesn’t even matter that we are “working” on the weekends, because this gig sure doesn’t feel like work.
Saturday was another busy day with lots of interesting folks coming into the store. I am still frustrated when we don’t have the books they are looking for, even when it’s a romance novel. One woman who was in a couple of weeks ago returned with some books for us to take in on trade and brought me a book that she had heard another customer requesting – it doesn’t get much better than that! And I haven’t been able to hunt down the book she had asked me to find yet either, but she was pleased as punch to have found the book that other customer had been asking about! It’s wonderful to be building those kinds of relationships with customers. And I’ve finally found some time to read a few books, too, including some these customers have suggested.
Our book hunting Sunday morning did not net us as much as I’d have liked. And Sunday proved to be a slower day, with the Poetry Workshop Sunday afternoon the highlight of my day. So we were looking forward to Monday.
And what a glorious Monday it was!
We went “off the island”, an hour’s drive away, to Salisbury, Maryland, to pick up my wedding band. I’d lost a diamond somehow on the move down here and this was the nearest Kay Jeweler repair shop. After that jaunt, we stopped at a Hospice Thrift shop (they are marvelous little stores!) and got some children’s books, plus I picked up some long-sleeved t-shirts for these cooler days when I don’t really need a sweater but my other shirts aren’t quite warm enough. Then home to pack a lunch which we ate at the beach, sharing some of it with the seagulls. Hubby had them eating bits of his apple out of his hand. We took a long walk along the Woodland Trail after our beach walk and were lucky enough to see a pony and a deer at the Wild Pony Overlook in addition to several egrets. We drove the Wildlife Loop and then stopped at Gary Howard’s for oysters and shrimp.
While hubby was preparing his oysters, he cut into his hand. That’s the first time we had to face the reality of living 50 miles from the nearest hospital. However, we live across the street from the fire department and there is an EMT on duty there. She wrapped his hand and suggested he go the clinic two doors down from us when it opened up today. He did. All is well. And it cost us a whopping $30, a huge reminder of the skyrocketing, out-of-control health costs in New York. Oh, we don’t have health insurance here either.
Other than periodic bouts of loneliness, missing loved ones and craving quality live music, life is good.
Saturday was another busy day with lots of interesting folks coming into the store. I am still frustrated when we don’t have the books they are looking for, even when it’s a romance novel. One woman who was in a couple of weeks ago returned with some books for us to take in on trade and brought me a book that she had heard another customer requesting – it doesn’t get much better than that! And I haven’t been able to hunt down the book she had asked me to find yet either, but she was pleased as punch to have found the book that other customer had been asking about! It’s wonderful to be building those kinds of relationships with customers. And I’ve finally found some time to read a few books, too, including some these customers have suggested.
Our book hunting Sunday morning did not net us as much as I’d have liked. And Sunday proved to be a slower day, with the Poetry Workshop Sunday afternoon the highlight of my day. So we were looking forward to Monday.
And what a glorious Monday it was!
We went “off the island”, an hour’s drive away, to Salisbury, Maryland, to pick up my wedding band. I’d lost a diamond somehow on the move down here and this was the nearest Kay Jeweler repair shop. After that jaunt, we stopped at a Hospice Thrift shop (they are marvelous little stores!) and got some children’s books, plus I picked up some long-sleeved t-shirts for these cooler days when I don’t really need a sweater but my other shirts aren’t quite warm enough. Then home to pack a lunch which we ate at the beach, sharing some of it with the seagulls. Hubby had them eating bits of his apple out of his hand. We took a long walk along the Woodland Trail after our beach walk and were lucky enough to see a pony and a deer at the Wild Pony Overlook in addition to several egrets. We drove the Wildlife Loop and then stopped at Gary Howard’s for oysters and shrimp.
While hubby was preparing his oysters, he cut into his hand. That’s the first time we had to face the reality of living 50 miles from the nearest hospital. However, we live across the street from the fire department and there is an EMT on duty there. She wrapped his hand and suggested he go the clinic two doors down from us when it opened up today. He did. All is well. And it cost us a whopping $30, a huge reminder of the skyrocketing, out-of-control health costs in New York. Oh, we don’t have health insurance here either.
Other than periodic bouts of loneliness, missing loved ones and craving quality live music, life is good.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Here I Go Again....
I should change the name of this blog to “The Wonders of Running a Used Book Store on the magical island of Chincoteague, Virginia Where it Seems Like Home and Every Day Brings a New Wonder” but that’s way too many words.
But that’s my life now.
We’ve had a couple of very hectic months relocating, rearranging, readjusting. After having only about a day and a half of looking around these five rooms loaded with books (approximately 7,000) and absolutely NO experience running a cash register or credit card machine, we opened our doors the same day they closed the beach here because Hurricane Earl was expected to make an appearance. He didn’t but we saw almost everyone who had planned on spending Labor Day weekend at the beach. Those folks all bought books (THANKS!) and helped us learn our new profession very quickly.
After that first day, after scrambling around for eleven hours straight with no coffee/lunch/dinner breaks, hubby and I went upstairs and sat out on our back deck overlooking Chincoteague Channel and couldn’t stop smiling at each other. It was one of the best “work” days we’d ever had! We were exhausted, frustrated, wondering if we were going to get blown away by the storm before we even got unpacked, but we did what we always do: put our heads down and plowed on.
And it’s paid off. We still aren’t unpacked. We still have frustrations, but are slowly catching up on our sleep. Our days off now are actually spent at the beach and we were there this week when the snow geese landed here, at least two thousand. We were about the only humans on the beach, and it felt as though we were in our very own National Geographic special. It was mystical and magical and something I will never forget.
We don’t seem to leave the store often, but have ventured out to hear live music, although we realize how spoiled we were by the variety and talent we left behind us in Syracuse. At the last concert we attended here on the island, we made a call to a musician friend we knew was playing in a café we once traveled to often – if you scroll back you’ll read me raving about both Mark Zane and the Red and White Café in previous posts – and we called the Red and White and requested a song from Mark because we needed to hear “good” music that night. Of course, Mr. Zane obliged, and we were able to hear a couple verses of “Ruby” that gave us our live music fix for the weekend.
Monday night we went to the movies here in a nice, old-fashioned theatre less than a block down the street from us. Tickets are $5.50 on Monday! We saw “Secretariat” and next week they’ll be showing “Social Network.”
Misty’s hoof prints are in the cement in front of the theatre. If you don’t know who Misty is, well…..there’s this book. You can’t spend five minutes here in Chincoteague without learning about Misty. I hang my head while admitting I have not read “Misty of Chincoteague” but we did borrow the movie from the library and watched it last evening. I enjoyed seeing how the island I now call home looked back in the 1960’s.
In a selfish effort to get a writing group started here, I’m offering a poetry workshop here at the store tonight. I hope someone shows up.
If you’re interested in seeing some of the rooms at the bookstore or learning more about us, check out the website hubby put together. http://www.bookhoundsplus.com/
But that’s my life now.
We’ve had a couple of very hectic months relocating, rearranging, readjusting. After having only about a day and a half of looking around these five rooms loaded with books (approximately 7,000) and absolutely NO experience running a cash register or credit card machine, we opened our doors the same day they closed the beach here because Hurricane Earl was expected to make an appearance. He didn’t but we saw almost everyone who had planned on spending Labor Day weekend at the beach. Those folks all bought books (THANKS!) and helped us learn our new profession very quickly.
After that first day, after scrambling around for eleven hours straight with no coffee/lunch/dinner breaks, hubby and I went upstairs and sat out on our back deck overlooking Chincoteague Channel and couldn’t stop smiling at each other. It was one of the best “work” days we’d ever had! We were exhausted, frustrated, wondering if we were going to get blown away by the storm before we even got unpacked, but we did what we always do: put our heads down and plowed on.
And it’s paid off. We still aren’t unpacked. We still have frustrations, but are slowly catching up on our sleep. Our days off now are actually spent at the beach and we were there this week when the snow geese landed here, at least two thousand. We were about the only humans on the beach, and it felt as though we were in our very own National Geographic special. It was mystical and magical and something I will never forget.
We don’t seem to leave the store often, but have ventured out to hear live music, although we realize how spoiled we were by the variety and talent we left behind us in Syracuse. At the last concert we attended here on the island, we made a call to a musician friend we knew was playing in a café we once traveled to often – if you scroll back you’ll read me raving about both Mark Zane and the Red and White Café in previous posts – and we called the Red and White and requested a song from Mark because we needed to hear “good” music that night. Of course, Mr. Zane obliged, and we were able to hear a couple verses of “Ruby” that gave us our live music fix for the weekend.
Monday night we went to the movies here in a nice, old-fashioned theatre less than a block down the street from us. Tickets are $5.50 on Monday! We saw “Secretariat” and next week they’ll be showing “Social Network.”
Misty’s hoof prints are in the cement in front of the theatre. If you don’t know who Misty is, well…..there’s this book. You can’t spend five minutes here in Chincoteague without learning about Misty. I hang my head while admitting I have not read “Misty of Chincoteague” but we did borrow the movie from the library and watched it last evening. I enjoyed seeing how the island I now call home looked back in the 1960’s.
In a selfish effort to get a writing group started here, I’m offering a poetry workshop here at the store tonight. I hope someone shows up.
If you’re interested in seeing some of the rooms at the bookstore or learning more about us, check out the website hubby put together. http://www.bookhoundsplus.com/
Thursday, August 26, 2010
So Long, Farewell, That German Word I Can’t Spell….
Although Time Warner SWEARS I will be able to access the email account that allows me to access this blog, it seems to me that once I stop paying someone for a service, that service most likely goes away. So I’ll probably be starting a new blog someplace else and I simply don’t have time at the moment to set up a new email account to continue this one.
Yup, hubby and I did indeed buy that used bookstore on that island and are in the whirlwind of selling almost everything except the stacks of books we have, stacking up stuff for a moving sale and doing all the shutting off/turning on utility things that have to be done. It’s amazing how the Internet has made this out-of-state move easier. I can definitely understand, also, why so many choose to set up a business in states other than New York. Having lived in New York most of my life, I had expected to be much more sentimental in leaving it. Not so. I am counting the days. I had given myself much more time to accomplish what I needed to do to set ourselves up for business…..I’m basically done…..now I’m sitting in an apartment that’s basically packed and ready to go, counting the days until the movers arrive.
So, Island life, here we come! No more posts complaining about the snow! If life slows down and I’m able to get back in here someday, I’ll tell you how it’s going. If not, thanks for reading. It’s been fun!
Yup, hubby and I did indeed buy that used bookstore on that island and are in the whirlwind of selling almost everything except the stacks of books we have, stacking up stuff for a moving sale and doing all the shutting off/turning on utility things that have to be done. It’s amazing how the Internet has made this out-of-state move easier. I can definitely understand, also, why so many choose to set up a business in states other than New York. Having lived in New York most of my life, I had expected to be much more sentimental in leaving it. Not so. I am counting the days. I had given myself much more time to accomplish what I needed to do to set ourselves up for business…..I’m basically done…..now I’m sitting in an apartment that’s basically packed and ready to go, counting the days until the movers arrive.
So, Island life, here we come! No more posts complaining about the snow! If life slows down and I’m able to get back in here someday, I’ll tell you how it’s going. If not, thanks for reading. It’s been fun!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Loyalty and What's Next
Often I wonder if I even understand the meaning of “loyalty”. Perhaps it more that I wonder why my understanding seems lights years away from others most of the time.
It’s difficult to witness examples of employers being “loyal” to long time employees as they hand them pink slips after years of expecting those same employees to be loyal to them as employers. Children expect parents to be loyal – in spite of what children may do – yet feel free to turn their back on parents when things may not go their way. Long time commitments such as those to a particular business, restaurant, library, craft fair, are no longer always appreciated. You may remember previous posts about the craft fair I sold my one-of-a-kind handmade knit items at, Plowshares, for the past twelve years; this year they rejected my application to their annual event, the only place I’ve ever sold my merchandise. There was a time when they were barely able to fill a gym with vendors and I stayed with them, loyal to the core because I believed in their mission to sell quality, handmade goods.
But everything changes. I can’t quite put my finger on this shift in thinking though. For years I followed the advice of various elders: always do your best, work hard, be loyal, and you’ll always be respected for that.
Somehow it hasn’t always worked out that way.
These days it’s the advice my dad gave me later in his life that’s playing over and over in my head: You’re always going to have to work hard so you might as well work hard for yourself, not to make someone else rich.
Dad owned a successful marine distributorship after my mother ran off his boss. Funny what leads us to realize whatever it is we’ve really meant to do with our lives. He loved going to work every day, kept his inventory in his head even after purchasing a computer system to do that, treated his employees as he would have wanted to be treated, and was well respected.
I’m confident Dad was happy selling boats and being in control of his headaches. The echo of his advice to me – often given to me as I’d sit on the edge of his bed the last months of his life relating yet another story of issues I was dealing with the Human Resources job I had a that time – keeps me awake nights lately. He’s not here anymore for me to mull ideas over with as hubby and I try to figure out what to do next with our lives, but I think I’m finding an answer.
Yeah. I think I’m going to buy me a bookstore on an island off the Virginia coast, take control of my own headaches, spend some time near the ocean, forget about the snow and just be happy.
It’s difficult to witness examples of employers being “loyal” to long time employees as they hand them pink slips after years of expecting those same employees to be loyal to them as employers. Children expect parents to be loyal – in spite of what children may do – yet feel free to turn their back on parents when things may not go their way. Long time commitments such as those to a particular business, restaurant, library, craft fair, are no longer always appreciated. You may remember previous posts about the craft fair I sold my one-of-a-kind handmade knit items at, Plowshares, for the past twelve years; this year they rejected my application to their annual event, the only place I’ve ever sold my merchandise. There was a time when they were barely able to fill a gym with vendors and I stayed with them, loyal to the core because I believed in their mission to sell quality, handmade goods.
But everything changes. I can’t quite put my finger on this shift in thinking though. For years I followed the advice of various elders: always do your best, work hard, be loyal, and you’ll always be respected for that.
Somehow it hasn’t always worked out that way.
These days it’s the advice my dad gave me later in his life that’s playing over and over in my head: You’re always going to have to work hard so you might as well work hard for yourself, not to make someone else rich.
Dad owned a successful marine distributorship after my mother ran off his boss. Funny what leads us to realize whatever it is we’ve really meant to do with our lives. He loved going to work every day, kept his inventory in his head even after purchasing a computer system to do that, treated his employees as he would have wanted to be treated, and was well respected.
I’m confident Dad was happy selling boats and being in control of his headaches. The echo of his advice to me – often given to me as I’d sit on the edge of his bed the last months of his life relating yet another story of issues I was dealing with the Human Resources job I had a that time – keeps me awake nights lately. He’s not here anymore for me to mull ideas over with as hubby and I try to figure out what to do next with our lives, but I think I’m finding an answer.
Yeah. I think I’m going to buy me a bookstore on an island off the Virginia coast, take control of my own headaches, spend some time near the ocean, forget about the snow and just be happy.
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