I purchased another lot from an estate sale, my last for the year, I think - unless Dear Husband gives me permission. This one was about 100-150 books for $12. Even though I will donate/give away/turn in for credit about 80%, I'm still left with 25-40 books for $12. That's good enough for me.
This was an eclectic collection. Books on spirituality, angels and human potential mixed with 1950s dime-store westerns and coffee table books on cars and submarines. There was even a set of high school year books.
This collection, more than some others, makes me wonder about the previous owners. Many of these books seemed to have been inherited from other family members. Several were stamped with names of people long gone. Holding a book clearly treasured by someone, knowing they are dead and there loved possession now resides with some one they never knew seems odd to me. It makes me wonder who will someday hold my collection of books. What will they think of the works I've amassed? Will they love the same ones I do? Will my books go to one person or be scattered among many?
This does not make me sad. When I am died, I won't care. And I like to think my books will live many lives in many different library, read by many eyes and perhaps even loved by more than just me. Books have that power, I think, to live beyond us.
And for the record, I kept every one of the dime-store westerns. I do enjoy a good cheesy book on occasion.