Bubbles at C

 

I discovered a friend.  It is a book, and it was on the last shelf, at the far end.  None of the books were alphabetical, I’m not sure why.  There were a couple things about this book that caught my attention.  Its location I found a bit odd, off by itself, standing there alone, away from the others, it seemed both brave and lonely at the same time.

Holding it, it felt substantial, but without being stuffy.  Even though it looked impressive, it didn’t feel pretentious.  I can usually tell when a book has been over-stuffed with $10.00 words.  This one felt down to earth, like maybe we had some shared experiences.  I find I can navigate around paragraphs and through rocky ideas better when the author and I have some common ground. Too many times, I have run aground on some shallow sentences and dropped the book like a rusty anchor.

The title, Never Wash Your Banjo, struck a chord with me.  It was silly and yet made sense.   The graphics on the cover were simple and maybe a tad Art Deco.  I flipped to the dedication and read it.  This book is a stray thought and has been written to no one in particular.  I loved it already. I couldn’t wait to read the first sentence.