Author Archives: wendywelch

A Kitten’s Destiny

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destiny's daughterSo yesterday my friend Destiny came careening into the shop about half an hour before closing. It was a desperate situation: her ten-year-old daughter had just declared she didn’t like reading any more.

Destiny bought her the first Harry Potter, the first Artemis Fowl, and a couple of “I like this cover, Mom” paperbacks.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, I suggested RL Stine. Not normally my first go-to, but needs must when the devil drives.

We loaded the child with books, and then Destiny looked around. “Where’s Jack?”

“Scotland,” I said. “Remember?” But she shook her head.

“My son Jack.” Her eyes took on the wild panic of a mother whose child has been quiet too long.

Just then a piercing scream of maniacal childish laughter shook the shop. Destiny relaxed.

destiny's sonWe found Jack “playing” with the foster kittens.  This involved a lot of strangulation, alternated with cuddles and coos. The kittens looked terrified. The instant Jack released them under his mother’s orders, one leaped into a laundry basket and peed itself, while the other cowered behind a chair, hissing.

Hey, he’s five.

The blond, bespectacled moppets frolicked to the front of the store after learning that “there’s another kitty in there” (staff cat Owen, a sturdy boy, strongly built) and I closed the door on the kittens to let them recover.

But of course it took wee Jack only seconds to realize he’d been had. “This is a big cat. Where’s the little cats?”

Smart kid. We explained that it was nap time for baby kittens. Jack burst into tears and declared that, unlike his sister who had gotten “a lot” of books, he hadn’t gotten any.

Destiny narrowed her eyes. “You said you didn’t want one. You just want to go back where the kittens are.”

Innocent and wide-eyed, the boy gulped assurances that he really, really needed a book.

“Here,” said Destiny, pointing to the adult historic fiction. “Pick one.” Needs must.

I held my breath as Jack’s tiny fingers hovered over The Other Boleyn Girl. But he moved on, taking a Judith Tarr with a pharaoh head on the cover.

Destiny later Facebooked me this message: “Mom, this book is making me crazy.” – Jack on the way home.

I really don’t know where Jack gets his sense of drama.

destiny and son

"Is that kid coming back?"

“Is that kid coming back?”

Free speech, not free Wifi

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Jack and I didn’t “lock” our wireless Internet the first three years we had it in the bookstore. We felt open-handed, generous, as though we were offering something to the community.

The lady who rented the house across the street said she could use it if she sat in the near right corner of her upstairs bedroom. A guy in a red Toyota pulled up about once a week, 7:30 a.m. (One subzero winter’s day Jack went out and asked if he wanted coffee, but he just thanked us for having wifi available. He was a contractor staying in a rented house for six months.)

About two months ago, after a series of difficulties getting online and a strange warning message that we better stop posting copyrighted material of a dubious nature, Jack did some cyber-digging. And found… well, a porn cache, and someone’s footprint. I don’t get tech stuff, but there’d been numerous (as in six hours a night for seven nights running) uses of our wireless on places that don’t really respect women for our minds.

OK, time to create a password. And then, about two weeks ago, the phone rang. On a Sunday afternoon. A young male voice on the other end asked if we were “bookshopwifi.”

I motioned to Jack to pick up the other receiver, and said, “Why yes, we are. How can I help?”

“I need your password. I’ve got a school assignment due tomorrow and I’m only half done. I was using bookshopwifi but now it’s asking for a password. It didn’t do that before.”

“Which medical school are you attending?” I asked. “Or is it art classes, studying the female form?”

On the phone, I swear I heard the child blink. Then he decided I was the idiot, and tried again.

“I have to finish my assignment. What’s your password?”

“We locked our account because someone was using it to surf porn.”

A pause. “Porn is protected as free speech,” said the voice, rather hopefully.

Jack couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing.

Being a college professor, I wanted to impart some wisdom to this poor misguided child, but words failed me. I started laughing, too. Yeah, I missed a chance to offer insight and turn his life around. But our wifi is clean. Let us know if you want to use it.