It’s Wednesday so it’s Jack’s turn again, but a painful one – –
It’s always sad when a dedicated customer passes away. Bill Peace was one of our beloved regulars. Those of you who have read The Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap would find him in its pages as the guy with the bearlike shuffle and precision military corners.

He was a true supporter of the bookstore from its earliest days and it was always a pleasure to see him. Early on he would come striding up the steps in front, then later he needed to use the ramp at the side. Either way, once in the front door he would very slowly traverse every corner of every room. His reading tastes were wide and included everything from US history to mystery novels. He never missed a shelf.
He never said very much, either, but it was clear that he valued having a bookstore in the town. Some customers chat while browsing, but not Bill. He kept his thoughts contained inside the omnipresent ex-military cap he wore, the emblem of his unit decorating its dark red. Mostly he would just ask if we had anything on ‘such and such’ or by ‘so and so’.
Eventually his health deteriorated and it was harder for him to get here. His devoted wife Brenda would drive him over to the side of the building and help him up the ramp. When that got to be too much, we’d get phone calls from him asking about particular authors or books, and organize pick-up from Brenda or his son David.
We knew that things were getting to be more serious from reports by David and his wife Felicia (another staunch pair of bookshop supports) who’d come to collect the books Bill had ordered over the phone.
Back when we started ‘Tales of the Lonesome Pine’ thirteen years ago we needed the support of established locals and we are very grateful to the ones who stepped up and showed their public support. Bill Peace was one of them and he helped enormously to make us feel part of the community.
RIP Bill – we will never forget you!
Yo. My name’s Cole. Yeah, black cat, people think it’s C-O-A-L but it’s Cole after Cole Porter. ‘Cause I sing as good as he did. Yeah, like that.
The people here tell me I’m waiting for my “furrever home.” Cute, the way they spell that. They asked me what I wanted, and I had to think a little bit. Don’t know that I’ve expected much so far, but if I was designing the purrfect—er sorry, perfect—cathouse, it would have places to sit and look out the window. There’d just be a few of us, me and one or two other friendly cats. I like cats that like me. Maybe a kitten to raise, y’know, teach the kid to play ball and stuff. That’d be fun.
Uh yeah, forgot to mention, at night, I like to sleep on the bed with you, if you don’t mind. Like above your head, or in that curve behind your knees. I ain’t fussy. And I promise not to smother you while you sleep. Sheesh. Who’d work the canopener? People got no common sense these days.