Friday, March 28, 2014

~Sil and Logos

Another of my internet friends has died.  Regular readers of Funny the World will probably have seen many of her comments from ~Sil in Corea.  I didn't know her well, but we have been reading each other and interacting on Facebook for many years.  I think she was a Quaker, in her 80s, and had lived in South Korea for many years, working at a welfare center.  I just remember that she seemed a gentle soul who shared all of my passions for social justice.  I will miss her very much.

silKorea.jpg (161165 bytes)
Sil and her family in 2013

But today is Thursday, so it's time for Today at Logos, kind of abbreviated version, hitting the high points.

hughglass.jpg (5316 bytes)My first customer today was my friend Ruth.  She had just come from the local radio station, where she had recorded her program for this week.  She reads stories having to do with the Gold Rush era.  I guess she is finished with Mark Twain for the time being.  This time she was telling me about Hugh Glass, an American fur trapper and frontiersman noted for his exploits during the first third of the 19th century.  He was most famous as a frontier folk hero for his legendary cross-country trek after being mauled by a grizzly bear.

Despite his injuries, Glass regained consciousness. He did so only to find himself abandoned, without weapons or equipment, suffering from a broken leg, the cuts on his back exposing bare ribs, and all his wounds festering. Glass lay mutilated and alone, more than 200 miles from the nearest American settlement at Fort Kiowa on the Missouri.

In one of the more remarkable treks known to history, Glass set his own leg, wrapped himself in the bear hide his companions had placed over him as a shroud, and began crawling. To prevent gangrene, Glass laid his wounded back on a rotting log and let the maggots eat the dead flesh.  He survived on wild berries and roots and once chased two wolves away from a calf they had killed and he ate the raw meat.  He eventually reached the fort.  (And I complain about 2 mile hikes on our cruises!)

I'm sure the radio broadcast is going to be quite an event when it airs!

When Ruth had told her tale, she went into the children's room to find some folk tales to buy for her neighbors, whom she felt needed to learn them.  Didn't find Aesop's, but went away with a handful of books anyway.

A very tall grandpa type came in with a grandma type and a grandchild type.   Grandma found a poem by Goethe and said it was just what she was looking for.   

Two men brought in donations, within about 15 minutes of each other. One of the guys was an older man with coffee breath and a missing tooth.  He brought two books, one of which was a huge book called "Trains we Rode," which looked fascinating, but I was engrossed in my VanGogh biography, so didn't take time to look at it.

A couple came in and headed for the "touchy-feely" section, where the self help and self esteem books her.  She chose a book and sat down at the table in the front of the store and read for about half an hour.  I didn't see him at all, but I heard him talking to someone I assumed was their daughter on the phone.  She took the phone from him and went outside to continue the conversation.

I found a hefty guy in a red plaid shirt wandering the stacks with something that looked like a purse on his arm.  I thought that odd, but what the heck.  When he left the store, he held up the book he was carrying and said his wife had already paid for it...it was the husband of the women from the touchy feely section.

Two girls came in and spent about half an hour browsing.  One finally bought a book called "The Thirty Years War" and then came back again to buy a big book on English Heraldry.  After she left she hurried back in, in a panic, looking for her credit card.  Fortunately she found it.

A lovely girl carrying a violin case came in.  She bought a French language book, a dictionary and two Shakespeare books.  She told me she was going to London and then to Paris in June.  She asked about the French conversation group that meets at Logos once a month, and whether she could come even if she only had rudimentary French.   I told her I thought it would be OK and that I was wondering the same things.   We decided we could support one another.

My friend came in at 4:13.  This week's book was on outdoor public art in Seattle.  While he was browsing around the store, this guy in his 20s came in.   He was wearing two backpacks, "homeless guy" looking clothes and actually resembled Hugh Glass, except that I don't think he had combed his shoulder length hair in a week. His hands were very dirty and he told me he had a job at "the greenhouse."  I can only assume he was on something because I could hardly make sense out of this stream of consciousness that came out of him.  He was looking for a "book of books" about the Black List, but he then went on to tell me he raised bees and sent them around to friends.  He wants to plant fruit trees in a forest so they will feed hungry people.  When I asked him who would take care of them, he stressed they would be in a forest and he would stop by and see them after a year.  He talked about carving boats.  He asked me who my favorite author was and I told him John Steinbeck and he said he liked Steinbeck and he didn't understand why "his book" was black listed.  He was obviously very well read on a multitude of subjects and he told me "read a lot in prison."

He finally decided he had talked my ear off enough and decided to leave.  He didn't find what he was looking for, but I couldn't figure out what he was looking for anyway.  I was relieved when he left.

My friend was still there and I suspected he had stayed so I wouldn't be alone in the store with the guy, which he kind of admitted he had.  I was very grateful.

The last guy, in comparison to the previous customer, was very boring.  He bought a bargain book, a bible and a book of prose.

When Peter arrived about 3 minutes to 6, I couldn't believe it was that late already.  The afternoon had flown by, partly because of my interest in the VanGogh biography.

1 comment:

Harriet said...

What a pity to hear about Sil. The last I had read was about her trip to Maine last year for her son's wedding.

She was a sporadic poster, like me, and I never realized there was anything wrong. (You, on the other hand, are so reliable that I open Funny the World if Bloglovin misses your daily post!)