Dear friends,
We are pleased to report that the raccoons mentioned in last week’s email are doing fine. Despite the election to choose Canada’s next Prime Minister, our thoughts remain with the raccoons. Despite them NOT being able to live in our shed anymore, we have checked in on them. They are settled now (in the aforementioned Wilson’s garage) and make regular visits to our green bin at night. Jason has begun an evening ritual of porch sitting with the eldest of the cubs. They put their feet up on our veranda poles and chat the night away drinking beer (Jason) and eating garbage (the raccoon). Jason is learning lots about the local wildlife. Did you know that there is an unofficial Masonic temple for bunnies in the ruins of the old tannery at the end of Gunn Street?
Neither did we.
Speaking of election day, a Londoner who is moving out-of-province, and is an ass-kicking activist to boot, has sold us a bunch of her political books. We’ve shelved them in our New Arrivals section. There’s also a graphic novel collection about the Wobblies, and a history of the Seattle Strike of 1919. Additionally, a collection of Books on Books has also arrived in the shop. They’re deeply nerdy and beautiful. These collections sit mysteriously side by side on the shelves. One speaks to civil efforts, and the other to quiet, nearly invisible arts. We find these dynamics calming and weirdly reassuring. If everything makes sense and is lined up perfectly, then there are no truths left to uncover in a life. We’d learn them all, and then slide to the grave with boredom. Strange bedfellows help us find peace during these times where we are all cursed to experience the tides of history.
Sigh.
If only the sedate act of porch-sitting and chatting with wildlife friends would ebb those tides. It is just a dream, of course. We resist its naive charms. Still, what a life it would be, sitting on porches at night drinking bunny-brewed beer and chatting into the wee hours. Even our dog Cooper would sit with us, abstaining from the beer because she is a prude (half Pomeranian princess after all). Our daughter would come out carrying a bag of Goldfish crackers and offer some with semi-verbal friendliness to the raccoon. Blackfriars would be filled with the crunching of critters eating crackers. On the porches of every house would sit rabbits, raccoons, birds, cats, and dogs. Everyone would nibble on their favourite treats. The exhaustion of Election Day would have found weird armistice, all of us approaching the impossible with familiar rituals. Our street would be calmed by the dimming of dusk. The manic world would wait for tomorrow.
Much love,
Jason & Vanessa
P.S. Saturday is Independent Bookstore Day! Please stop by and say hello, and don’t forget to visit our bookseller friends at Little Wren on Adelaide, and Bread and Roses on the second floor of the Western Fair Market. East of Adelaide is becoming a bookish paradise, and we are tickled pink to be part of it.
P.P.S. Hooray for independent small business!
P.P.P.S. Hooray for books!
