Does what you read stick in your head?

What does your bookcase say about you?

The official count is 147. (It’s actually higher because there are a few books tucked away behind those who are happy to show us their rear end.) But 147 is, I’m sure many of you would agree, plenty.

This is the larger of my two bookcases in my den. I received a third bookcase today (thanks, hon) that has yet to be assembled. First, I have some writing to do.

When I completed re-arranging, settling, correcting, admonishing, these 147 unruly candidates into my bookcase on Saturday, I have to say it reminded me of a NOVA episode where the geologists cut into the side of a hill and showed how the geology of the area had changed over time through their various changing geologic layers.

In my case, the top shelf is 42 books about or by Bob Dylan. (Not including my three about Bob, which are on the top shelf of my other book case, in order to avoid word pollution.) There are some good ones, some sorta blathery as you might expect. My first girlfriend in college (I don’t think she’d mind me calling her that) got me seriously interested in Dylan’s music. She knew I was a budding writer, thought I might like what Bob had to say (she was right!) and would have been proud, I think, to know that I went on to write three books about the guy. Sadly, she passed away just before her sophomore year began. I still talk to her younger brother, even dedicated my 2022 Dylan book to him. (He’s a big Dylan fan, too)

Seeing that collection of Dylan stuff and where it’s located gives you a clue that Dylan and his music has been important to me for a mighty long time. The first book I wrote, I’d written to a publishing company - one of the few that did stuff on music - suggesting I do a book explicating ten Bob Dylan songs, since I didn’t think the writers at the time did him justice. They wrote back, suggested I do a comprehensive book on the guy and I signed on. I’ve since done two additional editions of “Bob Dylan: A Descriptive, Critical Discography and Filmography 1961-2022.” No idea if Bob ever saw it. It’s on Amazon, so maybe.

The second layer contains books on popular music, with big books on Bruce Springsteen, The Band, The Replacements and U2 and more moderate-sized tomes on Elvis, The Who, Neil Young, Eric Clapton, Rod Stewart, The Beatles, Tom Petty, Johnny Cash and Sun Records. This section gives you an idea what you might hear coming out of my CD player or on my trusty little player I listen to at the gym. Knowing that I spent 25 years of my professional life as a sportswriter and some sort of athlete for a few years before that, you might be surprised that the top two shelves are about music. I was sorta surprised about it myself, though I’ve been classifying my book collection this way ever since I set up the bookcase to begin with.

In layer three, well, this might be where the psychiatrist asks me to stretch out on the couch and start explaining myself. We start with nine books about baseball, my favorite and best sport, one that took my son to the major leagues. Then 15 books about boxing, including three separate copies of A.J. Liebling’s “The Sweet Science”, one a first edition, another one beat to holy hell from years of travel. (I wrote about this a week ago - My Great Traveling Partner). Then six books about Henry David Thoreau, who preached non-violence, remember. Then three books either by or about Jerry Seinfeld and two collections of comedian interviews by Judd Apatow. (Good reads!) Don’t tell me I’m not well-adjusted.

On the bottom layer, we go from pro basketball to a couple more music books (Dylan, The Beatles, The Replacements) that were squeezed out of Level Two. Wasn’t big on the Dylan bio, The Beatles’ book is terrific as is the oral history of The Replacements. You may not know them, they were about as under the radar a band as you can get, but I saw them once, love their records.

There’s also a weird book on Elvis, then a run of 11 straight books on baseball, including one of my all-time favorites, Jim Bouton’s “Ball Four” a player’s diary on his season with a baseball expansion team called the Seattle Pilots. I got this book for a Christmas present the year it came out. In our house, we were allowed to pick one gift on Xmas Eve. I picked this book and stayed up all night reading and laughing. At one point, my parents actually banged on their ceiling (directly underneath me) telling me to go to damn sleep. (I kept reading)

One of the cool things that happened to me years later was one of the funniest players in the book, journeyman outfielder Jim Gosger was from Port Huron, Michigan, where I took a job as sports editor years ago. I took him to his first major-league game in years (he was bitter about his release from the game), wrote about it and I like to think, gave him some peace in his life. We still talk.

There’s also a big thick book including the Best American Sportswriting. (Didn’t make it). Then it’s back to music again with box sets of Dylan, U2, Elvis and The Replacements.

You’ll also notice two books on the top, a biography of former Cleveland Indians Hall of Fame pitcher Bob Feller that I got at a second-hand store and “Peril,” Bob Woodward and Bob Costa’s book about the troubles at 1600 Pennsylvania a while back. I’ve only poked through “Peril”, not really read it. Keeping the blood pressure down, you know.

So what’s my take-away from all this? Well, it’s pretty clear that after reading a single page of my Dick and Jane reader to my first grade class on my very first day of school, I was sent immediately to read to the second grade. For some reason, I was good at reading. After a while, I guess the words piled up and just had to come out.

Let’s see a psychiatrist handle that one. Heh, heh, heh.