Old School

Last Friday afternoon I had already battled a labyrinth of call numbers and corridors in what seemed like every library on campus, all in a frenzied pursuit of sources for my research paper. I admit, it was last minute, and it seemed like every book on Jacques-Louis David was quickly being pulled from the shelves by my fellow classmates. So when I ran smack dab into a charity book sale on the north end of campus, I almost didn't stop. But it was warm and breezy outside and the dingy interior of my final library stop wasn't exactly an anticipated destination.I ended up with a heavy brown box stacked with three old yearbooks. I settled on the 1925, 1931 and 1939 editions of Southern Campus, all chock full of old photos of the grounds, nostalgic reflections, finger-waved hair and smart saddle shoe oxfords. (They're stacked above under my roommate's old Royal typewriter.) It's quite amusing to see the building I work in now (coincidentally, on the yearbook staff, among other things) embossed on the leather cover of the 1931 issue, apparently newly dedicated that year.
I also found a little collection of colorful "pocket books": Random Harvest with an inscription dated 1945, The Pocket Book of Old Masters copyright 1949 and a darling miniature 1940 hardcover called The Story of One Hundred Symphonic Favorites. Lastly I picked up a 1967 copy of Lampedusa's Il Gattopardo which I coincidentally just finished reading for class a few weeks ago. It's exquisitely written; positively a must-read if you like historical fiction.This agreeable bundle of art, music and history topped off my new box of treasures.