Bound And Gagged

Click To View This Book Online

I have been fortunate enough to find or stumble across a few physical items over the course of the past few years that trigger significant memories for me. There's the “1000 Words is worth a Picture” poster I 'reclaimed' a few years back, the “desktop valet” that I came across at a thrift store last year, and immediately grabbed. I passed up 'buying back’ a 70’s GE digital clock radio I found in Morgan Hill earlier this year and still regret having done so. I have selectively sought out a small collection of vintage audio media, including a couple of specific LPs, an eight-track and a reel-to-reel that all hold significant meaning. I also have a copy of Stuart Little, one of my childhood favorites. So as I was browsing an antique store in Niles Canyon recently and stumbled across something that triggered fond memories of a book I had in my youth, I decided it was significant enough to seek it out and obtain.

Growing up in Pennsylvania as a child, as was the case for most kids across the country, we routinely got the opportunity to purchase books via “Scholastic” books. I expect anybody reading this, remembers those brochures. We’d get their printed pamphlets and order forms annually, from which we’d all be encouraged to buy a few books. The subject matter ranged from drama, mysteries, biographies and such, and also include a few humor options. And I tended to lean towards the humor options.

As I recall it, I’d had some ‘target’ to hit, like three or four selections, to complete my order. And if memory serves me right I believe I ended up selecting this particular book as a final ‘out of time’ choice and feeling almost like it was going to be a waste of an opportunity to get something more substantial. I also feared being chastised for not selecting something of greater literary significance, like “Great Expectations” or “War and Peace”.

It's odd calling it a 'book' because it's really better classified as a small booklet or a really thick and minimally illustrated comic-book. But that "book" ended up being a prized possession for me, and a significant influence over the next several years. I would flip through it, repeatedly. It was kept bedside, or in my school book bag, and routinely reviewed.  I got most of the jokes, but a few of them left me scratching my head. (It was at least a decade later when I made the connection of “the 20th Century” to “the Twentieth Sentry”. My lightbulb was a bit dim at the time, I guess, I just didn't know what a "Sentry" was at the time.)

It crossed the country with me, from Pennsylvania to California in 1970.  I don’t know why or when I parted with it. Like many things along the span of a lifetime, I probably considered it adolescent or more trouble to keep it around than to discard it in between one or another subsequent relocation, or a random closet purge.

I found the aforementioned “1000 words…” poster after about 2 years of sporadic and occasional peaks of interest and effort. This particular volume of literary genius was nowhere near as hard to find. In fact, it’s available used on Amazon, where several of reviews echo my own nostalgic reminiscence. This book clearly resonated with many others in that era, as it did with me.

I performed a quick search on eBay where the price for a used copy there was significantly less. I found and ordered a reasonably priced and decent condition copy. I want it to be aged, to smell a bit musty, to show the signs of use and enjoyment as mine would today, were it still in my possession. And even though I know it absolutely is not the literal copy I owned because I colored in some of mine, it is from the same era, shows some wear and tear, and once again it’s within my grasp.

When I contemplate the poster I so gratefully re-acquired, I reflect back on that period of my life. When I see the valet I remember my bedroom and the routine use I made of this as the sole place to stick my wallet and keys at the end of each day. I see the Bill Cosby Album, the Herb Albert reel-to-reel tape, the “Peter Paul and Mommy” 8-track next to Jens’ father’s antique radio on our bookshelf, and I feel connected to the innate spirit of those times, exposures and experiences I’m blessed to have had, and to remember still.

To that, I now add a 'reclaimed' copy of this simply illustrated book of puns that influenced my youth, and which augmented and accentuated my own sense of humor. Not only can I say for a fact that this book played a role in my penchant for wordplay, I can tell you that the others who influenced me in that direction, my parents, never chastised me for this purchase, and my dad even read it and made reference to its content on occasion, too :-)

I guess this is all a part of aging. One starts to look back with fondness at things that seemed less significant at the time. A drawing, a song, a style of furniture or corningware perhaps, or a passing ‘classic car’ similar to the one you rode in the back seat of as a child. They all hit distant but familiar chords. We must all wish we still had that one record we gave away after getting the CD version, or that specific edition of a magazine that has since ceased being published, or one of the dozens of Susan Polis Schutz greeting cards. (Actually, strike that last one, nobody wants those back.)

These few things that have managed to come back into my possession will remain there this time around.

PS: For the time being, this book appears to be well documented here.

PPS: yes, of course, this post's title is an absolutely intentional play on words.