Back in July

There is a street in Baltimore that is in a relatively rough part of town. It's called 25th street and is home to two used bookstores that are housed in narrow but deep row homes. Standing three stories tall, they contain a greatly varied collection of used books.

In July I was just finishing up another three month spell away from book reading when I got the itch again. On my way home from work one very steamy evening I ventured onto 25th street and visited the narrow but deep row homes. I spent a great deal of time perusing the history section and their impressive collection of pre-1900 literature. Not that I read such literature but I do enjoy the thought of it so I always browse through that section to satisfy that something inside of me that calls me to the genre.

Moving along the aisles and then up the stairs to the third floor I came upon the sports section. Always one of the smallest of sections in a used bookstore, I happily found a 1st edition hard-cover copy of Robert W. Creamer's The Babe. The cover was a faded mauve color with the only mark on it's cover being a small impression in the lower right-hand corner of Babe Ruth in the final stages of his batting follow-through.

I opened the cover and in light pencil mark the price of -25 stared back at me. This was a 1974 first edition that was in very good shape. Plus, the bookstore was having a half-off sale on many books and this one just so happened to fall into that category. I purchased it.

The book was read by me in its entirety in early September. It did not disappoint. Along with a bevy of pictures a quarter of the way through the book (many of which I'd never seen), Creamer's biography of the man was very, very good. What came from his biography of Ruth was a very detailed portrait the man. The overriding theme was one of a man who when he was released from the constraints of a childhood controlled by authority, he lost all of his inhibitions and lived his life to the absolute fullest.

The used hardcover book that I found that evening on 25th street was the first time that I have ever understood what bibliofiles mean when they say that the book the were reading felt good in their hands. I now know what joy can be found in discovering such a treasure.

That treasure now sits on my bookshelf.