At that point in time

Did y’all know Fred Thompson wrote a book about Watergate? Well, he did. At That Point in Time It’s not in print anymore, but I got my grubby little paws on a grubby little copy this weekend.

See:

And yes, it’s a little rough around the edges, but the darn thing is 32 years old. (Younger than I am, though.) My dad brought it over. It had been languishing on his bookshelves for years, apparently.

It’s a signed copy, to my grandfather. He apparently thought so much of it, he passed it on to his son-in-law within a month. I guess he was a pretty fast reader.

My dad thought I’d get a kick out of it. And I have. But I’ve gotten an even bigger kick out of the fact that an autographed copy is selling for almost $750 – and that’s without the dust jacket.

My dad doesn’t want me to sell it, but it’s sooo tempting when I know the book will return to its normal low,low value after Fred’s campaign crashes and burns.

I know what my granddad would do. Oh yes, he’d sell. This was a man who sold junk antiques into his dying week and had a price tag on the walker he used to get around the shop. (For $5 more than my mom and my aunt paid for it)

Of little account

VolDad phoned me the other day and amongst his general news and asking after Cletus, he told me he’d found a family heirloom – maybe.

At some point, Fred Thompson had signed a book for my grandfather – I guess it was this one. And at some point, my grandfather had loaned or given the book to my dad. Since my dad hasn’t been his son-in-law for almost 20 years, it had to have been a long, long time ago.

My dad and I speculated that the book would soon be valued at a lot more – or a lot less. But at any rate, he’d give me the book if I wanted it.

I told VolMom, a life long Dem, about the rediscovered tome and she said “Well, I hope it stays worthless.”

Culture, culture, culture

My brother and I went to Italy a few years ago. It was after my grandfather died and having lived with him (and my mom) after my parents split up, I think we felt extra close to him. But we weren’t his children, either and it was difficult to express and for others to fully empathise with how we were feeling. So we went off, on our own, to Italy – as one does. And in the process we discovered that we could travel well together, a happy thing.

We had a great time – all that culture and pasta was very therapeutic. And I think we both liked Florence. But the problem with Florence is that it’s just too amazing, too full of fabulous things to see. I love museums, I love art, but even my eyes were starting to curl. Oh look – I’ve seen that painting in many an art history text, (yawn) look it’s another Great Master. Oh yes, this square is perfect in proportion – yes, I do have an odd feeling of peace. Ho hum. I think that’s because Michelangelo designed this place, too.

We were outside the Museum of the Duomo (Cathedral), leaning against concrete traffic bollards and sucking on Marloboros – and I was trying to convince my brother to go in to this one last museum. He was reluctant. A British tourist stopped just next to us to light his cigarette – and I asked him – as one can do in the brotherhood of smokers “Hey, what’s in there? Is it worth going in?”

“Well, there’s some Michelangelo, Donatello and Raphael. Yeah, it’s worth it,” he said with a shrug – probably thinking “philistine Americans”, but sounding a little culture weary himself.

“Hey, VolBro, it’s got three of the four Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, it’s gotta be worth seeing,” I said.

So in we went. And I can’t say I saw things with exactly fresh eyes. But the thing about great, truly great works of art, is that even when you’ve ceased to be amazed by merely the wonderful you can still be stopped in your tracks by a truly powerful work that can speak to you.

This one did. I saw it in expat blogger Anglofille’s Flickr photostream this morning. And of course a sneaky pic can never have the power of the real thing, but it did take me back to an August afternoon in Florence this gray and cool London morning.

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Rather interestingly, she her latest post is about her grandfather, gone 9 years and their connection that remains.