The last time I went to a Metro Library Book Sale was in early 2019.
Being more able-bodied in that day, I remember briskly walking to the sale at the Fairgrounds with my empty backpack looking for the best literary deals, be they books, albums, or films.
Thinking about it, seven years is a long time.
Since then, I had two somewhat-bad strokes, which not only affected my ability to walk, talk, and stand, but for a time they fully disabled my ability to read. No books in my future, right?
It took many months to learn to speak again and, even sadder, to learn to read again. From sounding out words to reading in complete sentences, it took time but, eventually, I put the pieces of my former life together again, coming back to where I started.
And even though I moved with more pain than I prefer, it was a true triumph to enter the open doors of the Metro Library's Winter Book Sale in the Oklahoma Expo Building of the OKC Fairgrounds last weekend.
Looking over the buzzing crowd, I noticed the strangest thing about the Book Sale: in all the years I was away, it stayed the same. From the tables, the volunteers, and especially the customers—they all had one thing on their mind, and that was the smell of literate capitalism.
Past the sad clown paintings that were definitely not literature, my wife and I started in on the tables of books, books, books. They had everything, from social sciences and historical fiction to children’s board books to steady mature graphic novels that, sadly, were gone by noon.
Looking at my phone’s clock, I chastised myself for not getting there earlier, because though there were still many books laid out on the folding tables, the best stuff, I surmised, had been snatched up. Man…
What I truly wanted were books about music and movies—mass media, if you will—so I made my way down to the other side of the semi-enormous hall like a man on a mission.
As I passed the various tables, I watched horror nerds debating what no-name, straight-to-video slasher was worth the $1 or $2 price-tag and chuckled over all the nameless alt-rock band albums donated by area moms tired of looking at their adult children's stuff.
Sadly for this latecomer, most of the vinyl was picked over, too. All that was left were the swinging sounds of third-rate mystic moods and big band compilations, but the sight of a Jim Nabors record made me happy.
Then I finally got to the spot I had been waiting for—the music and movie books.
As this grand buffet of boundless tomes spread out before me, I remembered the book credo that always served me well: no torn covers, no torn pages, and—while book shopping a library sale—no stickers or writing to inform us that this was a library book.
Sorry, but those are my guidelines.
While the biographies of Jimmie Walker, Tom Selleck, and all the Howard Stern media you could ever want were present, almost immediately I found a used copy of Dark Star: The Roy Orbison Story by Ellis Amburn, a book I had been wanting since 1990, when I first started going to the Belle Isle Library.
Nothing would compare to this find.
Taking one more look at the media books, I walked to the easy check-out line and paid $2 for my hardcover. Though they put a re-entry slip in my book in case I wanted to come back, I quickly realized that I should actually become a member of the Friends of the Library, so I can come early to the members-only preview and snatch all the best stuff for myself.
Passing the police presence that surrounded the concession stand on the way out, I walked to the ledge in front of the building, breathed in the cool, moisture-rich air and promised myself I would be back for the Summer Book Sale with membership in hand—and the books I missed waiting for me.
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Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78.
