In the summer of 2012 at the age of seventeen, I began my first job at a locally owned bookstore. It was in the heart of downtown on Main Street in the small town in which I was born and raised. Given the fact that it was not one of the big chain bookstores (i.e. Barnes and Noble, Books-a-Million, etc.) the owners could stock what the locals demanded, and they actually encouraged customers to walk in, take a seat in a comfortable chair and just read. I have learned the value of slowing down and really conversing with people since I have worked in the bookstore, and I have developed a deep love for all of literature along the way.

The bookstore where I work is more like an intimate cozy living room in someone’s house complete with area rugs, ruggedly worn, comfortable furniture, and, of course, a fireplace where a fire burns twelve months out of the year. The owners feel it is inviting to customers to be able to sit down and read in front of a roaring fire, so when the weather gets warm, they turn the air conditioning down to 50 degrees. It is a bit disconcerting to walk off of the street in 98 degree summer weather into a fall like atmosphere, but, at the same time, it is comforting. My owners have a golden Labrador retriever who is blind, fourteen years old, and has complete run of the store. She is the town pet and everyone who comes in loves to pet her. A pot of coffee is always brewing and the locals continuously drop off pastries to share. When I first started working there, I could not figure out how the owners ever made any money because they were always brewing coffee to hand out for free while allowing their customers to sit for hours reading books for free that they would end up not buying. I soon learned that the owners were independently wealthy and had opened the bookstore simply because they loved books and reading so much that they wanted to foster that love in everyone with whom they came in contact. They also never met a person who was a stranger.

We had a steady cast of characters who seemed to arrive daily at the bookstore. I will always remember the 85-year-old man who came in every day at eight a.m. to peruse the section on Charles Dickens. After several months of greeting him, he opened up and told me his story of how he had been a professor of British literature at the local college. He had fought in World War II and met his bride while stationed in England. His bride just happened to be the granddaughter of Charles Dickens and she introduced him to a whole new world of Dickens folklore. I also had the opportunity to get to know Colonel Ferebee who was the pilot of the Enola Gay. He came in on weekends to look around and read in one of the many easy chairs scattered throughout the store. I always greeted him with, “Good morning, Colonel.” We would always end up discussing current events. It was a sad day when he did not show up at the bookstore and I found out that he had died. A piece of American history died on that day.

One of the most exciting moments came when we received a box of 24 first editions of Cold Mountain which had all been signed by the author, Charles Frazier. Even though the book had been in print for over a decade, getting a first edition is like Christmas, Easter, and your birthday all rolled into one; it is that exciting. We have quite an extensive collection of first editions that sits on a shelf in the back of the store. I love to dust that shelf because it is like having a brush with greatness to be around the books that have molded and shaped our culture. Gone with the Wind sits on that shelf alongside Great Gatsby and The Natural. My excitement over first editions will excuse my digression from the Frazier story. Frazier happened to stop by for a book read shortly after the Cold Mountain first editions arrived, and the owners invited him out to dinner and asked if I would like to accompany them as well. I was almost apopletic with joy. It was a wondrous evening, and as I sat listening, captivated by Frazier’s explanation of how he brought his characters to life, I realized just how lucky I was to have this opportunity to work in this wonderful little bookstore and learn about life.