On October 7, my cousin Jenny got married in Saskatchewan to a cop with a silly nickname, who supposedly laughs when you say the word Jaguar if you believe the best man speech. Already I know more about Aaron than I do about Jenny, my extremely quiet cousin who is a maternity nurse. Maybe when you hear other people screaming all day (mothers, babies, doctors), you don't feel the need to fill the air with much noise yourself later.
Jenny's reception was held at the Borden Legion. The room where the meals were served was the Borden Friendship Club, which included an organ I couldn't help but dip around with after wine, especially since my Dad was enthusiastic (a sloppy rendition of Neil Young's Like a Hurricane is about the only organ thing I could come up with).
Later, Gareth and I were hanging out after he had become rather silly, and he grew increasingly alarmed about the interest I was taking in the library (a single bookcase) of the Borden Friendship Club. There, spines uncracked, utterly untouched by the passage of time (or people's hands for that matter), were a number of old rare poetry books. I'm not a used book expert like my friend David Collins, but here was a pristine first edition of Milton Acorn's Jackpine Sonnets, and one of a really bizarre early Don McKay book (Brick Books edition) called Lependu, which I'd never come across. They were all stamped 'Courtesy of the Canada Council'. There was a hardcover poetry book by David Helwig with binoculars on the cover, which I can't seem to figure out the name of (I've actually emailed poor David about it, will let you know what he says if he's still at that address) and an early Lorna Crozier. There was a lot more I didn't even get at good look at.
My gears were turning, so I found one of the people involved with the Friendship Club who was volunteering and asked if I could take a couple of the books for a donation to the Club, since it seemed no one ever read them. She agreed, saying she thought the Club would be much more pleased with the donation than with the books. If anyone had concerns, I told her, they could call me at the number on my cheque.
A few days later, the phone rang - a Saskatchewan number that wasn't my grandmother's. Uh oh. "This is Shirley Williams, treasurer of the Borden Friendship Club," she said in a strong, well-aged small town Saskatchewan accent (and there is such an accent, really). "We had a meeting and the fellows would like you to return their books as soon as possible." I apologized and said that the woman I had spoken to had thought it was okay. "The woman you talked with did not have the authority to give you those books," Shirley told me matter of factly. "Well, I really thought you wouldn't mind, considering the books had obviously never been read." "It's the principle of the thing," said Shirley. "We will not be treated like a shopping mall." Ouch! I felt like a horrible shoplifter.
I told Shirley she could keep the donation cheque, and that now that I know they like poetry, I would send some additional books along with those two I had taken for donation.
Whatever extra books I send, I know they'll be preserved for all time on the shelves of the Borden Friendship Club, as secure as the National Archives or moreso, since no one will likely ever touch them again.
If anyone should like to donate books to the Borden Friendship Club, here is their address:
Borden Friendship Club
c/o Shirley Williams
Box 96
Borden, SK S0K 0N0
I think it would be really amusing if they suddenly received an influx of poetry book donations from elsewhere in the country. :)
p.s. Geist has the 'Tirade by Way of Introduction' by Milton Acorn from his Jackpine Sonnets on the site linked above.
