A Tale So Improbable It's Perfect

Something surprising happened today that I wanted to tell about, because I kind of didn't believe it myself as it happened. It's not a Big Thing, but it was perfectly improbable.

I took myself out this afternoon to get out of the house and try to break up my post-season Bruins moping (if you missed this morning's post, it's full of moping)(and cat pictures). So of course, when I was stopped at a red light, a woman in the car next to me, presumably after seeing my Bruins flag*, called over something encouraging about They're still a great team! 
*Not the first time I've been addressed through my open window about the Bruins since I got the flag, either. It seems to attract more attention than the Bruins plates do.

Then later I parked behind this:

And then I was at a stoplight and I looked left and saw this:

And later I was behind this:

I also saw two men, separately, wearing Bruins t-shirts, and I kind of wanted to hug them for it. (I was wearing one too, though it was under a long-sleeve shirt because it was chilly.)

But that's not the story! The story is from my foray to the Used Book Superstore.

It's kind of an obvious thing that you don't go to a used bookstore expecting a specific book. Hoping for it, sure, but the nature of used is that it varies and depends and other similar terms. And in particular, if you are like me a big fan of the vintage book section, it's a total crapshoot there. Not only are there books from the 1970s and books from 100 or more years ago and everything in between, but it all depends on what people give them, and what could be more random than that? I often see multiple copies of Rebecca on a visit, or of Airport, as well as other books, but it's not the sort of place to bring a list and expect to check titles off. So when I walked in thinking how lovely it would be if I found The Shuttle, by Frances Hodgson Burnett, you understand my expectations were realistic.

Let me sidetrack here to explain the seemingly random title. A few years back, I read another of Burnett's books (actually 2 books in one) from my library, and was charmed. I bought copies of my own, and re-read them fairly frequently. A month or so ago, I forged through the author's listing from the library, sorting through you can not imagine how many copies of The Secret Garden and Little Lord Fauntleroy and A Little Princess, to see what else she might have written. I found two that were available, and in short order I read The Shuttle and T. Tembarom, finding them both equally improbable and fun. Not for the skeptical reader, but I really enjoyed reading them.

I then found a copy of T. Tembarom on eBay:

It's a charming old copy, and it entertains me that I can buy this hundred-year old book to read and own forever, for all of $8 including shipping. Unfortunately, it has a faint but noticeable (to my nose, anyway) cigarette smell, so at the moment it is residing in a bag with baking soda, which I understand may help.

There were copies of The Shuttle available on eBay as well, but none of them were as cheap or seemed as strongly bound and lightly damaged by the intervening century, so I held off, waiting to see if another came along. This is why I went in the store today thinking how nice it would be if I found one there. I wandered along the shelves, pulling out titles that caught my eye, thoroughly enjoying myself.

For instance, can you imagine that you get your book published and instead of your name on the cover, it was like this?

Even inside, no name! Just "By the author of..."

Crazy!

But no crazier than when I found a copy of The Shuttle.

Honest! One random hundred-year-old book, patiently waiting for me. I almost fell over. I did in fact sit down with it to check it over, and it was a good, solid copy, not missing the last page or anything.

Marveling, I went back to the shelves, and a few minutes later ... I found another copy.

Did you ever? I would have rushed out to buy a lottery ticket, but that I think all my luck for the day was used up.

The copies are remarkably similar, and given a price of $2.99 each, together with a 50% off coupon in my pocket, I splurged and bought both. I did! I don't know what came over me. I certainly don't need two, and they're in equally good condition, so I could have been happy with either. I just couldn't bring myself to leave one there.

Here they are at home.

And if you feel like clicking to make big, you can see that the contents are identical, down to the typesetting, which would make me suspect that they were the same printing...

Except that there are two different publishers. So make of that what you will.

I can't tell if the bottom one had a picture and it has parted company with the book, or if it never had one.

In one of the copies, there was a charming bookmark: a postcard from Miami, sent in March 1955:

In case you can't read clearly sideways, the message is this:

"Glad you are there with Bert. Get rested and stay as long as you can as I want to see you both before leaving. Getting too hot here & shall be glad to return North. Donald has gone to beach this P.M. Down town this a.m. for a bit of shopping. Love Mildred."

And check it out: no house number or zip code, four cents postage, and sent by AIR MAIL from Miami to Massachusetts!

It's like a little piece of history thrown in for free. And it does mean that someone was reading this copy sometime in 1955 or thereafter. Funny to imagine who.

Do you have any improbable tales like this? I still can't believe this one myself.