Or not, as it turns out. In past years (see 2016, 2017, 2024, and 2025), I’ve come away with stacks of books, videos, and records, but this year, not so much. There were no records I could find (maybe Chris Jones is still in town and went to “Lutheran Night” for $5), and the electronics section was underwhelming (one year, I bought two TI99s there, but that has been a long, long time). They did have two copies of Renoir’s Little Irène, and I was sorely tempted to buy one or both of them and replace one or more of the non-Little Irène Renoirs in the living room with the new copies to see how long before my beautiful wife said anything, but a whole year is a long time to hold on to them to donate back to the sale next year.
So here’s what I got.
I got:
- One book: Bald Knobbers: Vigilantes on the Ozarks Frontier by Mary Hartman and Elmo Ingenthron.
- Almost the first two seasons of the television series Monk (I’ve read Mr. Monk Goes To The Firehouse, Mr. Monk Goes To Hawaii, and Mr. Monk Is Miserable and really enjoyed them, but that might be more Lee Goldberg than liking the characters or show). I was almost because Season Two is missing the first disc. Which is probably for the best. It takes me forever to go through a complete season of a television program as it is.
- Blade and Blade II. Which I might already have, but it never hurts to be sure.
- Point Break, the original. Which I saw in the theater and must have seen since. But when? If I didn’t note it on the blog, did it really happen? (If I did note it on the blog, did it really happen?)
- Superman: The Movie. I think my wife already had it; if we do, it’s hidden in the to-watch cabinet with this new copy going on top.
- Father of the Bride, a Steve Martin movie.
- The Ghost and Mrs. Muir with Rex Harrison and Gene Tierney. You and I both know this will be the first thing from this stack that I watch.
Eight dollars total. Thirteen when you throw in a $5 birthday present for my wife. A whole twenty because it’s a good cause. And I didn’t have to stop by Stick It In Your Ear Records to buy a new set of mylar record sleeves and to paw through the cheap record crates. Which my youngest, whom I coshed to come with me, appreciated since time away from the glowing box is time wasted.
