That Elusive Bookmark ... Again

Just over a year ago, I blogged here about the bookmark to your left Since the story is over there, I won't repeat it here now.

However, I will say that I have had it for ~60 years and that the day of its purchase is somewhat memorable to me and not just for the bookmark. Oddly enough, I am still somewhat in contact with two of the kids I was with on that day, and they have no recollection of the day whatsoever. And it was their mother who took us on the excursion.

Memory is a funny thing; I've been told that unless there is an emotion attached to an event, you won't remember it. It will just fade into the mists of time. So, I therefore had some sort of emotion attached to the event, and I suspect it was one of pleasure at being treated to a nice outing by this woman. I think I was pleased with the purchase too, but I don't know if that would have been enough emotion on its own.

Aside: Speaking of memory, I am shocked that I only made that post last year, for in my tiny little mind it was years ago.

As I said in the previous post, the bookmark has come in and out of my life for about 60 years, and despite its wear and tear, I don't recall ever having used it very much. But that might also be a trick of memory.

Anyway, after then posting that blog I kind of misplaced the bookmark again although not as deeply as previously, and when it surfaced once again, I made it a point to use the dadgum thang.

And so I have been doing just that for the past few months.

But that usage almost came to a grinding halt yesterday when I wanted to use it to mark my place in a new library book: the one that I had just picked up the previous evening when returning two others.

Of course, I couldn't find it.

You, dear reader, being much more clever than I (which is not difficult by the way) probably already know where it was. Yes, it must be in the leaves of one of the returned books.

Now, I could have let it go. I mean the bookmark really doesn't mean that much to me. But, since I had hung onto it for lo these 6 decades, I thought that I might as well keep it for my few remaining years if possible. Might as well have it as not have it.

But there came another problem. I didn't know the name of the library book that I had left it in. You see, it was a book that had soon lost my interest, and I had shunted it aside. I could remember neither the author nor the title.

Another Aside: When you have been reading Ann Cleeve's Vera mystery series and also her Shetland series, you are used to a certain level of excellence, and my two latest books hadn't cut the muster (please note, not mustard). As a further aside, the new book that I just picked up is also a Cleeve's mystery, and I am more than half way through it already and am quite enjoying it.. Sadly however, I am getting close to being completely caught up on both series.

Come on, John boy, get yerself  back to the narrative.

So back I went to the library without great  hope, but nevertheless a teaspoonful of hope, of finding the thing, I scanned the shelves in the general location where I thought that I might have originally found the book in question: near the Cleeves section. Not a chance, matey.

Thinking it highly unlikely, I nevertheless ask the librarian, if they kept a record of recent titles that had been returned. But I'm afraid the question was met with a sorrowful shaking of the head. Well, not really too sorrowful, but for the sake of the narrative ....

I then wondered if there was any chance that some of the previous evening's returns might not have been yet shelved.

"Yes sire, maybe a few on the cart at the other end of the stacks."

Nearing said cart, I spied perhaps 8 books, and lo and behold , I recognized the one that I had returned. Mind you, I still have no clue of its title.

I opened it and found it. It being the bookmark, of course.

So, once again, the bookmark has returned to me, and I wonder just how many lives it might have.

As it were.