manchester, tennessee, has approximately one bookstore that sells used books.

now it's james's bookstore. back then, it was winton's. same place, different name.

then, as now, out front were two shopping carts full of books. a quarter each. they may have gone up, i haven't stopped lately. i spent hours in the early 90s rooting through these shopping carts while my mom talked to the shopkeeper.

mixed in with the harlequin romances and the louis lamour westerns, now and then i'd come across a gem. most of those gems were written by a certain kurt vonnegut, jr. i used to come up with fanciful reasons -- a single reader who loved both westerns and satire? a spouse who slipped a few into the discard pile for the public welfare? an odd conglomerate of folks all over town?

it doesn't really matter. in an era when i socialized with books more than i did with humans, they helped warp my mind into its current configuration.

it's been a while, but i miss him anyway. r.i.p.