Since the subject of money and budgets has been on my mind lately, I have been thinking ahead to the purchase of the next book.  I know this is old news to many of you, but I found NEW copies of the next book at Half.com for less than $5, INCLUDING the shipping. I hadn’t really paid attention to Half.com’s existance before, because I had been suppressing the entire concept of book buying.

But as I was putting together my contribution to the booklist, I started getting more and more depressed.  You see, Kris and I lost well over $30,000 of books in Katrina – mainly uncompensated, because they depreciate so much.  We had them in every room of the house. My books were mostly hardbacks, and largely science and history titles – and cookbooks.  Lots of them.  Not cheap.  And classics of all cultures.  After close to 400 college hours, I was a pretty well-read person.

These included some autographed books.  My most prized was my copy of “Bully for Brontosaurus” signed by Stephen J. Gould.  I got a short interview with him on his visit to Little Rock marking the anniversary of the Arkansas Evolution trial.  That is irreplaceable for the memory alone.  Only my scientific manuals survived, because I kept them in my third-floor office at work.

And that is just me.  Kris had over 1500 fantasy sci-fi titles.  Even at $8 a paperback, that’s a chunk of change.

You know what, people?  As much of a book lover as you are, I can honestly tell you, they become a low priority when you need little necessities, like clothes and a mattress.  The desire to bring my son up in a house surrounded by books, by the richness of literary heritage, took second place to the need to find a house to bring him up in at all.

That realization is depressing. I think it was at least 8-months post-Katrina before I could enter a Barnes and Noble without suffering a minor anxiety attack.  And occasionally, now almost a year later, it still happens.  We were at Books-a-Million last night and I spotted a bread-machine cookbook I used to own. I got really excited until I realized that I didn’t have a bread machine anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I try not to whine.  We emerged from this far, far better than many people.  Probably even better than most.  We were insured.  I got a new job.  We all survived, well, except Meiko, but that’s another thing I avoid thinking about.  We are warm and comfortable and far from suffering materially.  For an overpaid intellectual to miss her BOOKS seems a bit trivial compared with the suffering of those who can’t replace the basics of life, or who lost loved ones in the storm.  My brain knows this, even if my heart sometimes forgets.

Some things of our old life will necessarily fall away, and there is a sadness there for the familiar landscape we built for ourselves.  But maybe, maybe, now I can start working on bringing a little bit of it back.