There’s a new bookstore downtown Chattanooga that I’ve been thinking about checking out the last few times I’ve been in town. It’s called “All Books” and it’s right across the street from the trendy and hip bookstore on Market Street. We ended up leaving work early (i.e. on time) tonight, so I made a quick detour, found a parking spot, and headed into All Books.
At first glance, All Books looked to be one of those disorganized junk shops that frustrate me because I can never find anything because romance novels are piled next to books on WW II. Thoughts went through my mind about how I was too old to enjoy the hunt for treasure in the midst of the chaos and my first thought that my blog entry for the evening was going to be about how I’d realized the value of my own time, etc., etc. In other words, I was planning to write an elitist entry about how important I was so I didn’t have time to search through the shelves of a bookstore in search of something of value.
However, once I opened my eyes and shut down my snobbish attitude, I realized that this little treasure of a bookstore was actually very well organized. There was a printed sheet on each aisle outlining the identification scheme of the books. Books were in broad and understandable categories like cooking, novels, pets, etc. Each shelf was clearly labeled with a reference number. Once I figured out the system, it was easy to browse the shelves and look for books that interested me.
Opening my eyes and ears also alerted me to the fact that the proprietor was a very interesting older lady who knitted and crocheted and had beautiful yarns around the store that were also for sale. When I checked out I told her that my daughter loved to knit and would love her yarns and she told me to bring her in next time she came to Chattanooga with me and she’d fix her up with some new yarn. I also overheard her conversation with one of her regulars and realized that she was a competitive artist who entered her wares in regional stores. It was almost closing time, so there wasn’t time for me to stop and chat, but I walked out feel as if I’d almost allowed my misconceptions to rob me of a genuine encounter with a very nice lady and of the opportunity to pick up some pretty interesting books.There’s bliss in realizing that I was able to overcome my misconceptions and enjoy the experience, but there’s also a sense of sadness as I wonder what other opportunities I missed because of my sometimes snobbish and judgemental ways.
Cairn by Cairn 