Grandpa’s Tackle Box

I have often talked about how close I was to my grandparents.  Both my Mémère and Pépère have been referenced here, often.  (Heck, they have their own hyperlinks). 

But, It’s high time that I spread the love a little bit, and share a story about my Dad’s parents. 

Today’s post will be about my Grandpa. 

Sadly, much of my memory of my grandpa is muddied by my age, and the passage of time.  You see, my grandpa was my first grandparent to pass away.  It was February 1975.  I knew as much about death as any five year old does, which, is admittedly very little.  A lot of what I “knew” about death in early 1975 came from A Christmas Carol.  To me that meant that those who care about you will come back to visit you (as Jacob Marley did to Ebenezer Scrooge).     

One thing about my grandpa, was that he was an outdoorsman.  I have memories of him telling us stories from his adventures, and I have memories of doing outdoorsy things WITH him. 

He once showed me a giant bruise on his leg (It was a GIANT multi-colored bruise  Bigger and more colorful than my five year old self had ever seen!).  He proceeded to tell us the story of how a large rock rolled down a steep hill at my Uncle Ron’s cabin, and how the rock hit his leg, giving him that nasty bruise. 

There was the time we were spending time at our “choo-choo house” (don’t ask – there will be a post about that in the not too distant future) grandpa pulled up in his car.  I remember running out to meet him.  Once I met up with him, he brought me to the back end of his car, opened the trunk, and removed a big pail  full of clams.  He and I sat and shucked  (opened) all the clams.  I don’t know if he was going to eat them or not, but he told me we were “looking for pearls” inside the clams! 

There was also the time he and I spent an afternoon together (also at the choo-choo house) shooting slingshots.  He had a factory made one (which I proudly own), and for me he had a “hand made” slinkshot (like Dennis the Menace).  We were shooting rocks at some cans set up across the dirt road from the choo-choo house. 

I remember a boating (likely fishing too) trip with my dad, my grandpa, and myself.  I recall really feeling like “one of the guys” that day. 

I found out much later in life that he (as I do now) enjoyed hunting (link) a little bit too.  (Link to part 2)

But, You already know how this story ends. 
I lost my grandfather two months before I was six years old. 
Way too early.

The pictures below are of my grandpa, my sister, and myself (with a “cameo” appearance by my Pépère)

(Left) – Grandpa, myself, and my sister in front of the fireplace at my mom & dad’s first house.  This would have been very close to the time that he told us the story of the rock.  In fact, he was siting in the couch on the left side of that photo when he told us the story.

(Center) – Grandpa and my sister.  In the right of that photo (almost in the background) is my Pépère.  This photo (despite my sister being in it (wink)) is a favorite – BOTH my grandfathers are in the same photo.  I wish I had more like this.

(Right) – Grandpa with my sister at my grandpa’s house.   Many years in the future, I would spend a lot of time helping mow that lawn, and take down the fabric awnings you see above the window (retracted).  

  

Yes, there are a few fun memories, but from what I know of him since his death was that FISHING was his thing.  Grandma often told us how much he loved to fish.

Photos below, left to right…

(Left) Grandpa fishing.
(Center) My Grandma, likely dragged out fishing (looks like it was taken on the same day).
(Right) My grandpa and grandma on an ice fishing trip. 

  

When I think back about my grandpa, “fishing” is one of the first things I think of.  When I am out fishing I feel a definite connection with my grandpa, and often spend a little time “visiting” with him.      

Yes, my grandpa passed away when I was a very young lad, but my grandma (his wife) on the other hand lived on for MANY years afterwards.  In fact, grandma was my last living grandparent.  She passed away thirty years later - in 2005.  Grandma and I were good buds through the years, and I often spent some quality time just hanging out with grandma.  Towards the end of her life, grandma could no longer live in her home alone, and was moved to an assisted living facility.  When that happened, my dad and his brother (Uncle Ron - who’s cabin, hill and rock caused the aforementioned nasty bruise) had to clean out her house. 

Not too much longer after her house was cleaned out and sold, grandma moved from transitional care, to full time nursing home, and eventually (at 93 and a half years old – yes, you get to add the “half” to anyone who makes it to 90…  They earn every “half year” at that point!) I lost my last living grandparent. 

Some time after grandma’s passing, I was given a gift from my dad and my uncle.  While clearing out grandma’s house, they came upon their dad's (my grandpa’s) old fishing tackle box.  They planed on passing along grandpa’s tackle box to me but not before my uncle took it with him in order to research the old lures found within. 

When I received it, I was beyond flattered. 

The tackle box is kept with our family’s tackle boxes, but as an “heirloom” item it is never taken with us when we go fishing.   In fact, it is often pushed behind all the other tackle boxes when we return. 

As they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Today was a beautiful day outside.  I spent most of the day working on a couple of projects in the garage.  While I was working, I noticed an edge of Grandpa’s Tackle Box peeking out from behind the other Tackle Boxes.  I decided today was the day.  I wanted to document Grandpa’s Tackle Box here.

Yes, my dad and uncle found an old photo of my grandpa fishing, and hung it safely inside Grandpa’s Tackle Box.
Here is the whole photo, and a close up of my grandpa, fishing.

 

One of the things I noted was how meticulous my grandpa kept his tackle. 
Almost every piece still had it’s original box.

I’ll go through the box, left to right – top tray and then bottom portion.

You can see my uncle’s research in a couple of the photos. 
He jotted down some notes and some collector values, then placed the note inside the (original) box with the lure. 

First up.  A Lou J. Eppinger K231 (number 18) 3 1/2” red and white Daredevil spoon.   

 

In the compartment with the Eppinger spoon is this oddity. 

The box is in German (?) – and is labeled Bergmanspirken.  I took (and combined) photos of each side of the box.  As best as I can tell, it says “Lagligt skydd” on the cover, “För Gädda, Abborre___ös, Laxöring och Röding.” (underline is missing or unintelligible letters) one another side and “INR VARUMÄRKE” on yet another.

It is a very heavy lure.  Hard to see it in the photo, but it is triangular, and solid metal with a single barbed hook.

 

Now, and little more commonly know brand…  Pflueger.

 

 

The Pflueger #3796. 

A 2 3/4 in “red head” with a propeller and spinning head.

According to my uncle’s research, this lure was in production from 1930-1952.

According to MY research, my grandpa paid $1.59 for it at Montgomery Wards.

Not only did my grandpa keep the lure and the box – he also kept the original instruction sheet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next up, we have a South Bend “Bass-oreno” #973
this one is Red and White, 5/8 oz, and 3 1/2 inches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A personal favorite, the Fred Arbogast #7504 “Hula Popper”   (I have a couple myself!) 

This one is yellow.  I have red and white ones, and a larger yellow one similar to this one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This next lure is also one of my favorites from Grandpas Tackle Box.

The Heddon D350-XRY – Go Deeper River Runt – 3 1/2 inches.
Why is it a favorite?  Not really sure.  I guess I would have to say that it has a nice feel to it. 

 

 

 

Who can go fishing without a Johnson’s Silver Minnow?

I know I can’t! 

The Johnson’s Silver Minnow has been a staple in MY tackle box since I was a teenager (and spending my hard earned money on fishing tackle)

This golden shiny example is slightly larger, and more gold than the Silver Minnows that currently reside in my tackle box.

 

 

 

 

 

Another example of a lure very similar to one I have in my tackle box..

The Helins wooden flatfish X5 – 3 inch.

This particular model (wooden X5) was manufactured through 1948.
They began changing the sizes, colors, and manufacturing materials after 1948.

 

 

 

 

One more example of the meticulous care that my grandpa had with his lures…

A “made in Finland” Rapala CD-9-G – 3 1/2 inches – in gold coloring.

This one had the box, and also had the instructions / sales brochure still in the box with the lure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Rapala

This one is the CD-11-GRF – Red – 4 3/8 inch.

Another Rapala made in Finland.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This beautiful specimen is the South Bend Midge-Oreno.

This is the 3/8 oz, 2 1/4 inch, Red and White version.

That is NOT the original box, but it sure fits nicely in there.  I can see why my grandpa put it in this box!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, we move to the bottom tray.  The bottom of Grandpa’s Tackle Box contains several ordinary fishing lures (none documented by my Uncle) – many boxed together. 

Floating (pun intended) around the bottom tray were several bobbers of various size, shape, and condition.  There is weights, hooks, and swivels, a spinner and hook rig, and some jigs. 

 

There was another small box containing a large spoon and two spinners. 

The back of the orange and black spotted spoon was stamped “FLASH BAIT 66 MPLS, MINN”

 

 

Another oddity (at least to me) was this spoon.  It was GIANT!  I should have measured it.

The Original Doctor Spoon – The 2 in 1 lure.

The instructions (printed on the back) explain how you can convert the spoon into two different (yet equally effective) versions by using the split rings at the head and base – interchanging which end attaches to your line and which end attaches to the hook. 

Another tidbit I found interesting was that the Original Doctor Spoon was made by the Prescott Spinner Company located not far from where I live – in Beautiful Mankato, Minnesota!

 

The last lure in this tour is a “Lazy Dazy #503”

Unlike most of the top shelf lures (which were wooden) the Lazy Dazy (proudly?) boasts that it is “Made of Plastic”

I don't know if this is a knockoff of the well known “Lazy Ike” lure (which I own a couple of, and was the first lure I ever received as a young boy!), or if the Lazy Ike is a knockoff of the Lazy Dazy. 

 

What fishing tackle box would be complete without a knife (or two) in it? 

Not mine, or My Grandpa’s Tackle Box!

(Top) Sheathed knife.  This one is pretty hefty and has a heavy duty blade (that is corroded and rusted).
(Middle) – Garpin Tackle Company filet knife
(Bottom) – Uh… I don’t know here… I am pretty sure this is just a plain old kitchen knife.  If it is, I am certain my grandma didn’t know it was in there, because I am pretty certain that my grandpa would have got an earful from my grandma! 

 

Well, there you have it.  My Grandpa’s Tackle Box. 
For being the avid fisherman he was, he sure had a humble collection of fishing lures. 

I don’t know how true this is, since I really don’t have any recollection of it, but when I picture my grandpa out fishing, I get the feeling / vibe that he was a “hobo fisherman”… What I mean by that is that he was not a “gear guy” who had to have all the best fishing lures and equipment. He didn’t take fishing “too” seriously. 

He seemed to be a guy who only bought what he needed, and took great care of the things he had. 

He seems as if he would have been as happy fishing from the shore or on a dock as he would have been in a boat.

He seems like the kind of guy who could rig up his line (likely, on a cane pole) and just sit back smoking his pipe (as seen in the photo above) while patiently wait for the fish to bite.

He seems like he was the kind of guy who didn’t much care if the fish were biting or not – because “a bad day fishing is still better than a good day working”.

So, I’ll wrap this up with a hop, skip, and a jump up two generations.  Just a couple quick pictures of MY tackle box.

There is a short story behind this box too.  I had an almost identical box from the time I was a young lad.  Over the years, the latch broke, and I have since had a couple of tackle boxes that I have been less than pleased with.  I had explained my dissatisfaction with my tackle box and had been explaining what my old box looked like – when low and behold – about a week later, Best Bud Ed sent me some photos of a tackle box he bought me at a local second hand store!  Other than the color (my original had a green bottom), they were identical.  The “down side” to the box Best Bud Ed found was that many of the dividers were missing.  This, did not bother me, as I still have my empty and broken original!  I will simply pull the dividers out and repurpose them in this box!

I used it once in the fall, and ended up storing it away for the winter before replacing the dividers.  Until then, what you see is what you get!

  

X

I do not even know how to begin this post. 
It’s because this post represents my 10^th anniversary here at The Life of a Father of Five. 

• Ten years. 
• One decade. 
• The Roman Numeral X.    

Never in my WILDEST dreams would I have imagined that this endeavor would have lasted so long, brought me this much joy, caused me this much frustration, challenged me in ways I never considered, broadened my horizons in the scope that it has, introduced me to so many new and different friends, or helped me connect with so many others.  I simply had no idea.      

What started as something to “try out, just for fun” has grown to become part of who I am.  It has become an “identity” of sorts.  I have co-workers who know me as “that blog guy” or “the father of five” (and have even found out that my supervisor’s, supervisor’s, supervisor’s, supervisor stops by to visit here from time to time).  I have helped inspire a few new blogs.  I have assisted others with configuring and content on their blog(s).  I have won awards.  I have been named in several “top lists” of “dad bloggers”.  I have had “major media outlets” discuss with me how “giant” my cyber footprint is.  I have had corporations, PR firms, and even publishers contact me to try to promote, sell, share, or collaborate.  I even had an opportunity to have one of my posts published in a book! 

(I have turned down each of these offers.  Why, you ask?  To be discussed in a future post.  Maybe.)

So much has changed since I began.  My blogging has ebbed and flowed throughout the years.  Posting was, at one time, as often as every other day.  More recently, I struggle to maintain a paltry once-a-month average. 

Originally, it was pretty easy to keep a thin veil of anonymity between our REAL lives and our VIRTUAL lives on the world wide web.  There was this blog and nothing else.  A few years into blogging, is when the phenomenon of “social media” exploded.  MySpace (what’s that??), FaceBook, and Twitter just to name a few. 

With the explosion of “social media” came a decline in blog readership (and “writership” too).  It was so easy to keep in touch, and share quick simple thoughts, ideas, experiences, and photos (not to mention how “interactive” social media can be) compared to a blog.  Sharing my blogposts on Facebook became commonplace (and even automated, as it is now).  The more I integrated my blog and my other “social media outlets” the more of that thin veil of anonymity I lost.  It wasn’t long before Googling my name came up with my blog, and Googling my blog came up with my name.  Eventually, I connected the two with links and badges (and lived to tell about it).     

When I started this website, the kids were all younger.  There was so much to write about.  So much I wanted to share.  Almost every day I found myself saying “that would make an awesome post” or “how can I get this on the blog”?  I also found that I could write about them without their knowledge (or consent) and could do so under the veil of that anonymity I previously spoke of.  Over time, the kidddos became more and more aware of my blogging status, and how much of their lives were documented for the world to see.  They would sometimes visit my blog from school, or (gasp!) their friends would visit my blog.  The original anonymity of the blog began to crumble, and I had to adapt.  I have had to strike a deal with my children (at least the oldest ones) over the years.  The deal is that I can write and post about them, but they have an opportunity to see, edit, and/or veto any post that is about them PRIOR to going live.  I’ve been pretty respectful of that and so far, it has worked out well for all parties involved..     

Initially when I started blogging, I located a few other husbands / fathers who were doing the same thing.  Admittedly, they were few, and they were far between.  I would often visit one of their blogs and see they had already connected with another blogger that I had previously discovered.  It was a relatively small and tight knit community. 

That once small group of dads have expanded exponentially.  Nowadays, there is a whole world of “Dad Bloggers” out there.  Not only a single category, but dozens of sub-categories that all fit under the Dad Blogger umbrella.  There is no possible way I could keep up with all of them anymore. 

To aid in networking all these dad bloggers there are social media groups established just for dads that blog.  Even more recently a national convention dedicated to fatherhood and more specifically dad bloggers has really made some traction.  Products, corporations, sponsors, PR firms, and publishers have really started taking notice of the genre.  What was once a tiny niche has become a significant movement.  Seeing how much the horizon has changed over the years is pretty mind blowing. 

Of the original dozen or so blogs that were my “regular haunts” there are only two or three still regularly updating.  Actively blogging, or not - I still converse with most of those original blogging connections through other social media outlets.  I am truly grateful for two or three in particular who have become close friends. 

So, with all this change – I hear you asking me “What’s one thing that has NOT changed over the last ten years?”  One thing that has NOT changed is my vision statement.  My “why am I doing this”.  When I set out blogging, my intent was to… “keep[ing] this blog as a collection of thoughts for my children (but others are welcome to enjoy too). Someday I hope they have the chance to read this and get just a small glimpse into the mind of their father.”

If you peruse enough of the content here on The Life of a Father of Five I believe you agree that I have kept pretty true to that goal.  No promotion, peddling, hawking, freebies, giveaways, product endorsements, or sponsors.  It’s just me.  It’s my thoughts.  My observations.  My family.  My friends.  It is what I set out to do, and what I have been successfully able to accomplish so far.

This is currently a VERY hot topic in the Dad Blogger community.  I am not making judgement on anyone who does, or does not choose to "monetize" their blog.  I am only pointing out what MY original intent was, and what MY intent still is - and how I have been able to stay true to MY goal.     

How much longer will “The Father of Five” continue?  I honestly do not know.  I have no long term plans or changes in mind.  I will continue to do what I have been doing here as long as it is still fun to do so (and it really is – when I have the time to spare).   I have enjoyed participating in this endeavor over the past ten years and am grateful for the friends I have made, the lessons I have learned, the challenges I have met (and the ones I have failed), and am looking forward to what the future holds for me, and for My Life as a Father of Five! 

Thanks to each and every one of you that have been a part (large or small) of my decade long journey. 
You all mean more to me than you will ever realize.

  

The "Barf Egg" revisited...

It's been SIX YEARS since I first introduced the world to just one of the (many) peculiarities of my wonderful life as a father of five...  The infamous "Barf Egg".  (If you need to educate yourself or refresh your memory on what the "Barf Egg" is all about, be sure to follow the link above.)

A lot of water has passed under the proverbial bridge of life since then.   Some of that "water" is my triumphant return to the night-shift (#BestKeptSecret).  Working overnights has resulted in a few changes in our day to day routine(s).  Since it's been nearly a decade since my last stint on the overnight shift, one obvious improvement is that the kids have done a lot of growing up.  Three of the five are adults.  The remaining two are at (or on the brink of) their teenage years.  The kids are MUCH more independent.

This year, the Mother of Five was working on the day before Easter.  I was in the middle of my work-week (working overnights) so I spent most of the day asleep.  When I finally awoke, I came out of the bedroom to make sure the house had not burned down around me, and to see what the kids have been up to while I was asleep.

#4 of 5 and #5 of 5 were both eager to show off their accomplishment!  They had dyed the Easter eggs!  Not only had they dyed the eggs on their own, but they had continued the tradition of the "Barf Egg" - and were more than eager to show it off!!

Here, you see #5 of 5 PROUDLY showing off this year's "Barf Egg"!
(A proud fatherhood moment indeed!)



The "Barf Egg" was not alone this year!
Barf Egg had some company in the carton of "traditional"  eggs...

#4 of 5 debuted her "Angry Egg" and her "Happy Egg"
(Remind me not to open that Angry Egg...  Not sure what to expect inside there!)

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!

It's Been a Great Run

Well, it sure has been a great run.

Way back, (if memory serves me correctly - circa 1986) I made a new friend. Actually, this “new friend” was actually a former co-worker. As co-workers, we primarily worked opposite weekday shifts, but we worked together on the weekends. I think it is safe to say that we got to know each other as “acquaintances”. Our stint of being “co-workers” was (relatively speaking) short lived. Eventually Ed followed other opportunities - but would still stop in to shop and say hello to his former co-workers from time to time. One fateful summer day he came to the store for some bicycle parts. I helped him find the parts while we made small talk. While we were catching up, he asked what I was doing for lunch. I thought it odd (and almost declined), but in the end I agreed to meet him after my shift for pizza. We had lunch, and my life was forever changed. If you have spent any time here on the blog you should recognize know him as “Best Bud Ed”. This is the story of how it all began.

One of the things that happened after meeting Ed was that I learned how to play cribbage.  I had never played, and Ed needed an opponent, so he taught me.  Over the next several years whenever we hung out, we would often end up at his house at some point – and when we did, the deck of cards came out, and we would be “throwing down fifteens”. Over the next thirty years the frequency in which we played cribbage would (as they say) wax and wane – affected by things like proximity, availability, interest, weather, and more. Through it all, there has been one pretty consistent aspect of playing cribbage with Ed. A deck of cards. Not just any deck of cards. No. A deck of Remington cards. The cards depict a slough in what I always perceived to be the fall – during duck hunting season, with their slogan… “Remington, first in the field”.

(They look very similar to the photo to the right)

Last weekend, I made a trip to visit Ed (we live several hours apart nowadays). As you may suspect, during this visit we broke out the cribbage board and the deck of cards. As we played the first (of many) games that weekend, we both noted how much the cards have “yellowed” (with age) over the years. It was actually quite noticeable. About half way through that first game we had both also commented on how degraded the actual “structure” of the cards have become. The cards were actually kind of difficult to shuffle due to how broken down they have become. Finally, towards the end of the game, Ed made a suggestion (a suggestion that I agreed was due…)  Ed suggested that the game we were currently playing may need to be the last for the infamous deck of Remington playing cards.

He suggested (and I agreed) that the time had come to retire the cards from use.

 

Yup… The deck of cards you see in this photo (staged and then taken while Ed was retrieving a new deck of cards) is the very same deck of cards Ed used to teach me how to play cribbage. It is the same deck we have spent COUNTLESS hours and a staggering number of games playing cribbage with. It is the same deck of cards that will forever be etched into my memories. Memories of good times, with a great friend. This deck of cards has earned its well-deserved retirement.

Lessons, Karma, and Lessons in Karma

Today, I was having a little interaction with #1 of 5 on Facebook. 
It all started simply enough.

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In case you cannot read the text, #1 of 5 had locked his keys inside his car and had to get creative in retrieving them. 

#1.5 of 5 (his girlfriend) captured a photo of the surprising results of having tried to unlock the car and posted it on Facebook.  He turned around and shared it.     

When I saw this post, I (of course) had to comment.  What right-minded father WOULDNT take the opportunity to poke fun of while dishing out some sage fatherly advise?? 

Not this fella.  No way!

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As Paul Harvey would say so very often,  “…and now, here is the REST OF THE STORY”.

As SO MANY FAR TOO MANY people can (and will) attest, I tend to get a little “forgetful” about certain things.  (Here is a little throwback to a 2007 Father-of-Five post called “A Key to Happiness” as proof.)  My cell phone and car keys are often the primary victims of my forgetfulness.  More often than I care to admit, I require a return trip to my desk (at work), or the dining room table (at home) to retrieve one or both items after getting to my car.

The last few days were no different.  I had misplaced my “regular” key for the car, but since the car was parked in the garage – I knew the key had to be somewhere around the house, so I don’t much worry about it.  (Many years ago, this would have turned me into a crazed lunatic, ripping the house apart and refusing to leave until the misplaced key was found…)

Nowadays, when I temporary misplace my key I simply grab a spare set.  (More on that in a moment!)
Well, I was on day two of using the spare set (not unusual), and running a number of errands before meeting the Mother of Five for a “lunch date” near her workplace.  I parked the car, and texted her that I was there.  Since the mutually agreed upon location of our date is walking distance from where she works, I waited in my vehicle for her arrival.  While waiting, I opened up Facebook on my phone and discovered the previously mentioned post.

My reply turned into a little fun banter.  You can see the (slightly edited) interaction below. 

See if you can catch the irony. 

    
Yup.  There I was, sitting in my car (waiting for the lovely, lovely, Mother of Five – YES… Two “lovelys”) teasing dishing out a heapin’ helping of sage fatherly advise (in the form of getting a spare key) to #1 of 5 – when all of a sudden, a little “karma” came a rapping on my car window.

Startled, I turned to see who it was.  No one I recognized.  So, I got out of my car to find out what this man knocking on my window wanted.  The man turned to me and asked me if I knew that I had a key hanging from the lock of my trunk?


…crickets chirping…

I hopped out of the car, and sure enough – there it was!  The key I normally use and had not been able to find for (at least) two days!! 

I had been to Walmart, home depot, Lowes, Great Clips, Jordan Ace Hardware, the Post Office, the CREC, to name just a few of the places this car had been parked since I had last seen the key…

Of course, this lesson (my lesson) HAD to come at the very moment I was trying to sound so “sage”, “fatherly’ and “wise” myself!   

A Fool and His Money…

A Fool and His Money are Soon Parted – Unless (or is it especially if) he takes a Personal Finance college course.

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College. 

#2 of 5 is attending the same college I graduated from twenty five years ago.  Initially I was certain I could help him navigate the sometimes confusing waters of college with my VAST experience.  Boy, was I wrong.  I attended college before mainstream computerized class scheduling and online class registration was a “thing” – so my ability to help him in this area was a bust.

Last week was the beginning of a new semester, and with a new semester comes the “privileged” of having to obtain new textbooks.  I was pretty frugal when buying textbooks back in the day.  Almost every one of mine donned the big yellow “used” textbook sticker.  Nowadays, there are new, used, and RENTAL textbooks.  In addition to the school bookstore, there are online options as well (for new, used and rental).

The time came last week that #2 of 5 needed a new textbook.  And by “new” I mean a brand new.  JUST RELEASED.  This was the first semester the new “fifth edition” of the textbook was in use.  (In fact, so new that there were no used or rental copies available… Anywhere…).  This means there was only one single source for us to obtain the book.  The school Bookstore. 

Since he was not going to be (physically) at the school before he needed the book – I thought I would be the good dad and save him the 50 mile round trip to school (since I was passing directly by the school on my way home from work).  This would allow me to redeem myself and allow me the opportunity to show off my VAST experience of shopping at the school’s bookstore!

Boy oh boy, was I wrong…

There is a bookstore – which sells pencils, pens, calculators, tee shirts, snacks, etc, etc, etc – but NO BOOKS!

I was informed that the bookSTORE no longer sells textbooks, and books are now purchased at a bookWINDOW.  I was given directions and made my way to the window.  When I first arrived, I was a little out of my element, but was happy to see what seemed like a small to medium sized line at the window.  Nothing too long, but not too short that I could not “observe and learn”.  

 

There were roughly a dozen (give or take) students a head of me.  Should not take TOO long, right??

WRONG.

It took well over an hour to get through those twelve (plus or minus) students.

Then, when I finished and started to leave, I was struck with just how long the line had become behind me. 

Many are not visible in this photo because the hallway curved. I am not sure if you can tell from the photo just how long the line is – but suffice it to say that I stopped counting when I got to 30.  I wanted to turn to student #13 through #30 (and beyond) and give them a little heads up on just how long they were (realistically) going to be waiting. 

(Instead, I snapped the photo to “document” the experience.) 

 

 

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The irony hit me when I finally got to the car and was reflecting on this experience.  The shock and surprise really wasn’t about the window, or the line, or even how much things have changed since I attended college…

No…

It was about the cost and the content of what I just purchased. 

I just realized that I dropped $170.00 for a copy of a PERSONAL FINANCE book.  This book was not even hard covered!  

Think about that for a minute.  ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY DOLLARS…  

FOR A BOOK!

I asked myself if I would drop that much on a copy of the Holy Bible that Jesus himself signed. 
(I answered “no” by the way.  Jesus is in my heart – I don’t need his autograph.) 

I didn’t unwrap this book to look inside because (quite frankly) I was a little very worried that Rule #1 on Page #1 of the “Personal Finance Handbook” would say something to the effect of “NEVER be so foolish as to pay $170.00 for a textbook.”

…or, in a later chapter…

“The best way to make a TON of money is to write a college text book”.

I told #2 of 5 that he MUST ask the Personal Finance instructor what his thoughts were on dropping that much for a book.  

I can only begin to imagine what the answer may be..