We are looking for a bookstore location inside or near the beltway. It can’t compete with the Gaithersburg location. If you know any property owner who might want to sell or rent to provide a quality bookstore and rescuer/recycler in their neighborhood, let us know!

We published another story earlier this week in case you didn’t see it. Owain Part 3. Owain 1 and Owain 2 are here.

The character Owain is fantasy but loosely based on my friend and mentor Allen Ahearn. He passed away on January 3, 2025.

More walls came down in Gaithersburg last Friday.

There’s some nostalgia in this.

Carl, my first mentor after my father died—I was 20, had a passion, also a gentle madness. He loved shoehorning bookcases into every nook and cranny of every new space he leased at the Shady Grove Center on Shady Grove Road in Gaithersburg, Maryland.

I am very familiar with this space. It tugs at my heart to think of all the changes in my life that would not have happened had I not made a leap of faith—two leaps actually—in the summer of 1980.

The first jump I took was not big. I simply asked if they would hire me for the summer. I would go back to school in September. Maybe I would become an English professor or something. Carl knew me as a customer. In fact, he’d just bought a few boxes of Sports Illustrated magazines from me. He paid me a quarter apiece for them. That added up to a pretty good amount of money. Of course, I gave it right back to him for books that I thought he had priced far too low and that I just had to have. The magazines had been supports for my ragtag bookcase. The shelves were loose planks of pine—1 x 10 inch unstained boards. A stack of sports magazines at each end permitted me to rest another plank atop them. Another two stacks. Another plank… I remember the contraption was pretty unsteady. It could easily fall forward or sideways, and all the books and planks and magazines would spill all over my bedroom. I replaced the magazines with loose bricks. They weren’t any more stable.

The second jump was a big one. Within weeks of working there, I canceled plans for school to open a used bookshop. Friends and family (my mom was also gone) thought it was a crazy idea.

“That’s what retired people do.”

But there was really nobody living to tell me I couldn’t do this.

Such a long time ago. Standing in this spot where I stood in 1980 on my first day of work there gives me chills. It hasn’t been altered in all those years. Until now. A small thing, a small space in the scheme of things. But it made all the difference in my life.

Carl would chuckle at my current renovations in “his” bookstore. He had a great sense of humor. On a slow day, he might call me at my fledgling bookshop just to tell me a joke.

He’d be thrilled that the bookstore he and Eleanor created was still in use—albeit much larger than when he left so many years ago.

How lucky I was to love his bookstore, to ask for a job, to learn life lessons from the man old enough to be my father.

Luck?

Fate?

Divine intervention?

Here I stand. Back again where I had stood so many times over so many years.

Monday, September 1, 2025. Labor Day. I opened my store on September 21, 1980. (I think it was the 21st.) It was a big deal to me then. It is still a big deal to me.

It was quiet when we got to the store this morning. The holiday shoppers are not out yet.

Of course, I headed for the wall demo first.

Wow! It seems so much bigger.

You’re looking at the kids and sci-fi sections. They used to be separated from the rest of the bookstore by a wall and doorways.

Amazing.

I went and stood in the kids section. Before Eleanor and Carl opened this—the first space—in 1975, it had been someone’s office. Carl left the closet rather than tear it out.

That image shows less than half of the large closet where some 1970s tenant hung their coats. Carl squeezed some odd-sized bookcases into it and made it part of the kids section.

He just filled that closet with bookcases. It is just one of the dozens of nooks and crannies in that ancient space.

Maybe that’s why they named it Book Alcove.

Now, fifty years after this space first became The Bookmark of Gaithersburg (later renamed Book Alcove), we’re going to open this space up and straighten the aisles.

Carl would chuckle with approval. Maybe that’s the sound I heard as I stood there alone, surrounded by thousands of books. To think that the first kids who shopped in this space are nearing retirement age.

Incredible.

Bittersweet.

My older son was born on Labor Day. (It fell on the 4th that year.) It was a beautiful day, just like today. Cool. A soft breeze. Blue sky. Bright sun.

I think I worked too hard this weekend. I didn’t feel well last night or this morning. There shouldn’t be so much stress at this point. But there are more books than ever, more work than ever.

I felt like crap all night and the next day.

My work can be fun. Except when it isn’t. Maybe I take it too seriously.

The screams shattered the night. My windows were open. All was blackness without. The cries were brief. Half a minute or less. Half human, half animal. Horrible. Frightening. Something was being murdered. Then silence, silence in the blackness. Sleep returned sometime. And if I dreamed, I know not what. Then dawn rose in the east. I stepped out not knowing. Not knowing the scene was so close. Some tufts of hair were blowing around on the pavement below my sashes. Were they predator’s or prey’s?

The next night, I did dream.

I had some bread and water for dinner and went to bed early. Very early. I needed a reset.

All in a dream, all in a dream. I dreamed I was loading books from carts into boxes, but I was asleep while I was doing it. A dream within a dream. Toddler board books. Little ones into $2.95 boxes. Big ones into $4.95. “Did I mix some up?”

Then half dreaming, half awake. Nestled in a nest of soft feather-filled pillows. Three. One below my head. One wrapped in my arms, my body curled fetally around it. The third over my head to cover my exposed ear but pulled back so my face could breathe.

I dreamed I was putting slices of tomato onto sandwiches in a carryout box. Who am I eating with? The change is given. Three rolls of dimes and some loose coin. The coin rolls roll just out of reach across the counter.

I awaken, reach and touch the clock. It lights softly. Numbers are beamed onto the ceiling above. “3:11.”

Oh, blessed sleep. I’ve slept so long. Many sleepless nights were caught up this night. But it is too early. Can I sleep just a little longer?

Too much work. Too much escape from work into liquid nights. It puts me to sleep, but the payment comes later when the late night gives no rest.

When I awaken again and touch the clock, “5:45.” A living hour. Not infernal like 2 or 3 or 4.

Now it is Tuesday, September 2nd.

Oh, blessed sleep.

BOOM!

I reviewed the stores’ sales breakdowns for August with Clark.

August saw all three stores hit 21st-century high-water marks for months that are not December. (Actually, the sales were close to last December’s all-time records for all three.)

What’s that mean?

The stores are no longer the loss leaders they’ve been for most of the 21st century. Their main function for many years was to acquire books for internet sales and to stand as physical presences that Wonder Book actually exists as a physical company.

“It’s fun again,” Clark quipped as we reviewed paperback, vinyl, CD, VHS, t-shirt, etc., etc. sales at each location.

It is so sad when a friend you love is failing. I returned home on Monday evening and let the dogs out of the pen. Pippin had trouble walking. His right hind leg wasn’t working. His other legs aren’t that strong. I had to lift him up the steps. He wheezes almost constantly. He’s been a great friend and companion and comfort to me since 2011. His brother Merry is still a dynamo and hasn’t slowed a step.

I’ll reach out to the vet. He’s seen so many. The current ones are the best.

I hope his leg is just sprained. Though the outdoor pen is very large, roofed and has two doghouses, I’ll let him stay in the indoor pen for a day or two to see how he does. There he can rest among lots of towels. The window is open next to the pen, so he can hear the nature sounds outside and the cool breezes can flow in.

How long does he have left? The noble Jack Russell prince has become a frail old lord.

Oh, how he would endlessly chase golf balls. He sometimes escaped with his brother into the forest and disappeared for hours. I’d often despair they were lost or worse. One time, a neighbor texted that they were chasing a herd of deer up the mountain into the wilderness. They weigh about 20 pounds and couldn’t do any damage. That wasn’t the case with the plague of groundhogs they used to battle at the warehouse. Groundhogs that were often twice their size.

As pets, they’ve been good, loyal, calm friends. Smart.

The Alan Robinson t-shirts are back in stock!

This video shows some of the styles and colors. Many can be purchased online.

We will be adding more.

Frankenstein/Mary Shelley ones are ready to print.

We noticed that although we had a number of female subjects (Ophelia, Alice, Grendel’s mother…) we hadn’t created any devoted to woman authors.

Here’s a rough sketch of Emily Dickinson images. Those will the next.

Our viral Instagram post continues to have legs. It has over 300,000 views now. The same creator has a number of similar ones about things found in the antique Books by the Foot rooms. The instagram address is @booksbythefoot.

Here’s one that has only 11,000 views so far.

She Died a Lady.

It is a mystery book by Carter Dickson—pen name for John Dickson Carr. I’ve been bingeing on Carr and Dickson books for the last few months. This was such a page-turner that after starting it Monday evening, I had it finished by Wednesday morning. I’d wake up and tell myself, “Just another chapter.”

Since I read thousands of titles and title pages and copyright pages every day, I don’t have a lot of reading energy in the evening to read entire books.

This one was fun.

The sunrises are creeping south.

In another week or so, they will be in that gap—my window on the world.

I’ve gotten to some gardening and yard maintenance this week.

A truckload of mulch was picked up. I’m spreading it on the upper gardens now.

Twice around the grounds with the weed whipper. There’s plenty more to get to.

The beds where I put potatoes last spring were overgrown with invasive stilt grass. After that was knocked down, I went searching for potato plants. Most had died back, but a few were visible.

I dug in five or six spots. Slim pickings. Many were the size of marbles. Those were left in the ground. When I had enough to cook up for one, the slightly larger potatoes were taken inside and washed.

They were boiled in salted water and, when soft, dumped into a bowl. Some olive oil. Garlic chives (which are in bloom) from a garden border. Truffle salt.

They were quite good.

The last few months have been a case of “Wait… Wait—HURRY UP” in the newly renovated Gaithersburg store. Hard to believe that the project really only got going about 5 months ago!

I’ve been hoping for a few months that all the old walls would come down. When the contractor said he could start last weekend, I was very happy—and surprised. But I thought it would be a case of nibbling away at them. The fact that I’ve gone down every day this week attests to the fact that there’s a lot more than nibbling going on. Like a medieval town, the “old section” was a convoluted maze of my old mentor Carl’s imagination and quirkiness.

All that is going to be “straightened out” soon. We bought the bookstore as is 17 years ago. I’d never thought there was a solution to the old section’s cramped convolutedness. There was not enough room to do any work without disrupting the entire bookstore. That is until we expanded last spring. Now we can disrupt that section without disrupting the whole operation. When all the walls are down—they might be today—we can realign a hundred or so bookcases into straight rows with proper aisles.

In some ways, I feel nostalgic about unraveling Carl’s Gordian knot. A half century of bookselling quirkiness is being brought up to date. But when it’s finished, it will be better for the customers, the staff and the books. It is hard to estimate, but I think we will be able to add a lot of bookcases with the streamlined layout.

That’s why I’m going down this fourth straight day. To see the state of things and determine what we can do.

In some ways, I like chaos. It forces me into action.

50 years… In the oldest section, the contractor found a Molson ale bottle hidden in the walls of bookcases. Maybe some helper of Carl and Eleanor stuck it in there as a time capsule.

I used to love Molson. When I was young, Canadian beers were considered exotic. (It wasn’t me—likely before my time there.) IPAs were unheard of.

WOW!

What a mess. But the potential is screaming.

You can now see from the front entrance to the back wall.

That’s a sight that hasn’t existed since the 1970s—maybe 60s.

And you can see the north windows from the south walls.

So many bookcases had to be emptied to do the work. That part of the store will require a massive reorganization.

How many bookcases are on their sides? 40? 50?

How soon will all the bookcases be upright again? I think we will need to retire some of Carl’s quirky “repurposed” bookcases to the warehouse where we can cobble together mismatched bookcases.

WOW… Wow… wow…

I love the excitement and the pressure and the stress.

I hope the seed Eleanor and Carl planted 50 years ago will endure and grow for another 50 years.

I keep wondering what’s next. Sometimes the next adventure needs to be sought out. Sometimes it is thrust upon me.

Making order out of chaos.

Staying relevant is a goal.

The days of work ahead until we can call the bookstore finished.

It is good work. A good cause.

I think I worked myself too hard last weekend.

That made me sick.

Sunday night, I was so beat I was sick. That carried over into Monday, but I still pushed through.

It is Friday.

Things are in disarray.

I’m sending Bryan and Ernest to Gaithersburg to make the demoed area as customer friendly as possible. They will also do some heavy culling down there. Every book in the old Book Alcove is going to be moved in the near future. Every book we remove won’t need to be moved. I was there on Thursday, doing this with Andrew.

I can’t go back today. The warehouse is in disarray, and I need to address that.

I’ve devoted so much time to Gaithersburg that the carts and other work have built up here.

Plus, we are missing some statements from about a year ago. That’ll force me to go through every piece of paper in the conference room (piles, tubs, sprawls…) Because the conference room is in disarray too.

Sigh… it will be good when it is finished.

It is time for me to turn over some of the paperwork stuff I’ve held onto but haven’t done a great job keeping caught up.

Sigh…

What a mess. Mea culpa.

It will be good when it is all cleaned up.

What treasures came in this week?

These signed Borges came out to play.

Someone told me he only signed books regularly in the last couple years of his life. His wife felt he should. I can’t find that information.

And here are a lot of nice books Annika has researched for me.

They are “Ready for Chuck.”

But am I ready for them?