Free speech, not free Wifi

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.

God, Frankenstein, and Book Karma

Last week a lady came in and asked if we had Dean Koontz’s five-book Frankenstein series. We had three of them for three dollars each; did she want to order the others? They’d run about five dollars per.

Yes, she did, but we recognized the hem and haw of someone who didn’t have enough money to do what she wanted immediately. We told her to just come on back when she was ready and we’d order them. She bought the first book and we put the other two we had in stock (books 4 and 5, sadly) aside for her.

About three days later, a man came with two tubs of books left over from his wife’s garage sale. Janet Evanovich, Sara Paratesky, and, yes, you guessed it, Dean Koontz. And which Koontzes? 

Volumes 2 and 3 of the missing Frankensteins.

When the lady came back in expecting to spend $10 and wait awhile for her prize, we charged her $6 and sent her home with the next two. It’s just something that happens in the bookstore. A lot, actually.

Jack says it’s God looking after people who deserve more than they can afford.

I don’t know how God feels about Koontz books – after all the guy did write that one about his dog being an angel – but I’m pretty sure of how He feels about people in general, and poor people in particular.

But then, if God were attending to that level of detail in everyone’s life 24/7, the question of why He allows other, less pleasant things to happen rears its ugly head. That way lies madness – or prosperity theology, believing that God only wants us to be rich and happy. Or, as I said, madness.

God certainly has more serious issues than pulp fiction to attend to every day; I don’t understand why bad things happen to good people. But maybe sometimes Sparrow Watcher God also keeps those as need reading material in sight.