I worked for an attorney who handled real estate matters and had to evict a gentleman who lived in a nice, middle class home in Los Angeles County (MIddle Class means it is worth somewhere around $500K at the current rates).
I went into the home during the process and it was completely full of newspapers. They were floor to ceiling and were in the halls, etc. You could barely get around in the home.
Nothing of real value .... he just didn't throw newapapers away!
We all have our oddities, don't we.
--Steve
- --0-1236248257-1074785311=:2790-- - ---------------------------------------------------------- - - LDS-Bookshelf, information and discussion of LDS books - - To unsubscribe, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with - - "unsubscribe lds-bookshelf" (without quotes) in the message body. - - For assistance, mail to "lds-bookshelf-owner@lists.xmission.com" ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 22 Jan 2004 09:29:34 -0600 From: "Edlund, Mark J."In=
the NYT
recently there was an article who read the Times each day, but was about =
2 or 3
years behind, and refused to jump ahead to the present. That is, he saved each issue =
of the NYT
and did not throw it away until he had read it. He thus had the last two or three years of the Times, =
and
would read the next one each day, then throw it out, and go on to the =
next one
the next day. If I =
remember
correctly, he had not yet come to =
9/11.
Ma=
rk
-----Original
Message-----
From:
owner-lds-bookshelf@lists.xmission.com
[mailto:owner-lds-bookshelf@lists.xmission.com]On Behalf Of RickBook@aol.com
Sent: Thursday, January =
22, 2004
9:18 AM
To:
lds-bookshelf@lists.xmission.com
Subject: [LDS-Bookshelf] =
Things
that Endure
I heard
a feature on National Public Radio this morning about compulsive
hoarding. The lead-in story said that a forty-two-year-old man in =
the
Bronx was trapped in his apartment for two days by falling books and =
newspapers
which he had accumulated. The speaker then mentioned some
pocket-sized "Collier Park ?" in New York City where, =
years ago,
two brothers were found dead in their four-story brownstone house, =
killed by a
similar mishap; "hundreds of tons" of newspapers were =
found in
that building, the report said. And of course we have all heard =
the story
of what's-his-name in Europe killed a few centuries ago by a falling =
bookcase
full of folios (which is why we now keep our larger volumes on bottom =
shelves).
A dozen
years ago, I visited the retired historian of our county. He lived
in a perfectly respectable downtown high-rise apartment
building. But the moment you stepped through the front door, you =
were in
another world. A path perhaps two feet wide led from room to =
room.
On each side of the path were books, papers, and newspapers piled =
several feet
high. The man who negotiated this labyrinth each hour of his life =
had an
artificial leg. I remember him propping himself up on a bar stool, =
in
order to use the kitchen cabinet as a desk, where he had cleared a space =
large
enough to accommodate a folded newspaper to peruse.
Then there
was Dorothy W., back in Indiana in the 1980s. She came up to me at =
a book
fair one day and started chatting. Despite her impressive body =
odor, she
was pleasant enough, and intelligent - perhaps in her seventies. I =
ended
up visiting her home, where she had complete sets of John Gould's folio =
bird
books (not Audubon prices, but very valuable). She also had a =
trunk with
many choice individual folio prints from other, broken sets. All =
hand
colored; each worth hundreds of dollars even =
then.
I used
her bathroom. The tub was dry and filled with more =
collectibles.
Her house was very cold, and I later learned that she had insulted well =
meaning
neighbors who had ordered a load of coal delivered free of =
charge.
There
is an aging couple within an hour of my house who are truly on their =
last
legs. I have not been to their home, but a collector friend =
describes the
amazing treasures everywhere - room after room. They won't let him =
up in
the book room.
And so,
fellow collectors, as we observe alarming current events at home and =
abroad, as
we endure the lagging economy, or see teenagers on television who are =
unable to
name the countries which border the United States, take heart! =
There are
still folks out there who preserve the old values . . =
.
<acquisitive
grin>
RickBook<=
/font>
a nice, middle class home in Los Angeles Count= y (MIddle Class means it is worth somewhere around $500K at the current rate= s)
Why, this reminds me of my visit to = fellow Bookshelfer Don Snow’s office at BYU! Just enough of a path = to get to his desk, as I recall. I remember thinking, “Now THIS is = a guy with a passion for books!
Tell ‘em it’s true, = Don.
Keith
-----Original =
Message-----
From:
owner-lds-bookshelf@lists.xmission.com
[mailto:owner-lds-bookshelf@lists.xmission.com] On Behalf Of RickBook@aol.com
Sent: Thursday, January =
22, 2004
7:18 AM
To:
lds-bookshelf@lists.xmission.com
Subject: [LDS-Bookshelf] =
Things
that Endure
I heard a feature on = National Public Radio this morning about compulsive hoarding. The lead-in story = said that a forty-two-year-old man in the Bronx was trapped in his apartment for = two days by falling books and newspapers which he had accumulated. The = speaker then mentioned some pocket-sized "Collier Park ?" in = New York City where, years ago, two brothers were found dead in their = four-story brownstone house, killed by a similar mishap; "hundreds of tons" of newspapers were found in that building, the report = said. And of course we have all heard the story of what's-his-name in Europe = killed a few centuries ago by a falling bookcase full of folios (which is why we = now keep our larger volumes on bottom shelves).
A dozen years ago, I = visited the retired historian of our county. He lived in a perfectly respectable downtown high-rise apartment building. But the = moment you stepped through the front door, you were in another world. A = path perhaps two feet wide led from room to room. On each side of the = path were books, papers, and newspapers piled several feet high. The = man who negotiated this labyrinth each hour of his life had an artificial = leg. I remember him propping himself up on a bar stool, in order to use the = kitchen cabinet as a desk, where he had cleared a space large enough to = accommodate a folded newspaper to peruse.
Then there was Dorothy W., = back in Indiana in the 1980s. She came up to me at a book fair one day and started chatting. Despite her impressive body odor, she was = pleasant enough, and intelligent - perhaps in her seventies. I ended up = visiting her home, where she had complete sets of John Gould's folio bird books = (not Audubon prices, but very valuable). She also had a trunk with many = choice individual folio prints from other, broken sets. All hand = colored; each worth hundreds of dollars even then.
I used her bathroom. = The tub was dry and filled with more collectibles. Her house was very = cold, and I later learned that she had insulted well meaning neighbors who had = ordered a load of coal delivered free of charge.
There is an aging couple = within an hour of my house who are truly on their last legs. I have not been = to their home, but a collector friend describes the amazing treasures = everywhere - room after room. They won't let him up in the book = room.
And so, fellow collectors, = as we observe alarming current events at home and abroad, as we endure the = lagging economy, or see teenagers on television who are unable to name the = countries which border the United States, take heart! There are still folks = out there who preserve the old values . . .
<acquisitive = grin>
RickBook