Yesterday, I stopped at a book vendor's booth at the swap meet.
Most people probably saw a table full of used books.
I saw a life.
It made my heart skip.
It made me smile.
The collection wasn't particularly rare or valuable. There were popular sales and marketing, business, motivational titles, . The kinds of books many of us accumulate over decades of entrepreneurship and self-employment.
It felt personal. Every title revealed an era of the person who had once chosen to bring it home. Little Red Book of Selling, Little Red Book of Sales Answers, Launch by Jeff Walker, The Dip by Seth Godin, Never Eat Alone Again by Keith Ferrazi, You Can Do It Even If Others Say You Can't! by John Mason.
Together, the books told a story.
A story about curiosity. About interests that held someone's attention long enough to earn space on a shelf.
As I browsed, I found myself becoming less interested in the books and more interested in the woman selling them.
Which books had been favorites?
Which had been purchased with enthusiasm and never finished?
Which ones survived multiple moves because they felt important?
I wondered which books had influenced her life and business.
Which ideas had stayed with her.
Which seasons of life these shelves represented.
That is how books revolve on my bookcase.
Altogether, a personal collection becomes a kind of autobiography. I wasn't simply looking at used books. I was looking at the evidence of a life that had been lived with curiosity. And somehow that felt far more interesting than the books themselves.
Both vintage lovers, we talked about books, life, interests, and the ways objects follow us through different seasons of our lives.
I picked up a few titles for a friend starting a business.
But I found something even better.
A new friend.
We have a meetup next week. I'm bringing her a box of books from my bookcase I'm ready to pass along. It seems fitting. You would agree.
More soon.