It’s about time

I mean, it really IS about time…

Got the California fairs packed up and shipped out, and Maritime List 368 is all in and all done. With little else to distract me, I found myself engaged in a project I’d been avoiding for years. A major archaeological dig – sifting, sorting, tossing and saving 50 years worth of Ten Pound Island Book Co. business records.

My friend Jean and I started Ten Pound Island Book Co. in November 1976. The dig took me all the way back to that first layer and the discoveries, or rediscoveries, were pretty amazing – to me, anyway. The record showed that in our first 6 months in business we grossed a little over $3000. After expenses, Jean and I each earned about $1000 for that first half year. Now, she was married to Bill, who had a good job at LePage’s, the old fish glue factory. But Anne Marie was married to me and the only job I had was, well… And we had 2 kids. How the hell did we survive?

I painted a lot of houses back in those days, getting paid in cash under the table, and that added a few grand more. Our parents probably kicked in a couple of grand through the year, though they were just working people themselves. We were on food stamps and WIC. Hiring babysitters was out of the question, so we swapped child care with other young parents. We didn’t have computers, cable TV, streaming services, or insurance of any kind other than mandatory auto. We had a standard NGS health policy (“Nobody Get Sick”), and when something serious happened, like the time Galen stuck his arm in the washing machine wringer, (Remember them?) the Hill-Burton act provided free health care for poor people like us. And of course, who needs a phone when you have organic radio? (People speaking to one another in person. Remember that?) The places we lived were utter dumps. I remember the face on my poor mother-in-law the first time she walked into our new rental on Bass Ave. She managed to fight the tears back, but just barely. Her poor daughter! Our rent was $135 a month.

Here’s the point. We were fortunate enough to be poor when the American Empire was at its Zenith. It was fairly easy to live with little money because we didn’t need all the crap we need today, and because the government was a little better at taking care of its people – at least in terms making sure basic needs were met. I was a young man who loved old books. I started out with $350, loaned to me by Jean, to start up a bookselling operation. Within a few months I realized I’d found my life’s work. I started with nothing and worked hard,  continually being on the edge of having nothing financially, but somehow earning enough to support a family, all the while pursuing a trade I was born to, a job I still love.

I don’t think that could happen today, and we’re all poorer for it.