"My name is Walt and I am a book-aholic."
If there were such an organization as Book Buyers Anonymous, I would be a charter member. I might even be president.
I have had the urge to buy and read books ever since I was old enough to tell the difference between a school textbook and a book I would much rather read. (That would be just about any other book.)
And, as with most everybody else, I am going to blame someone else for my problem. The fault falls to my dad by default.
My dad's passion for acquiring books and reading as many of them as possible soon got my interest. I would have gladly spent my allowance on books if only my parents had given my siblings and me allowances.
As it was, I had two options for satisfying my urge to read. The first one was in our home. Our attic was technically my dad's home office where he worked grading the quizzes and tests of his high-school students.
Primarily, though, the attic was a book graveyard - where old books went to gather dust.
Dad was never particularly fussy about what he ate. Mother was a terrific cook and he was usually hungry, so leftovers weren't left over for long.
He had the same kind of attitude toward books. Hardbound or paperback, novels or textbooks, old or new; it didn't matter. He would buy them, and then, more often than not, he would read them.
Dad used to go to quite a few auctions. We never knew what he would bring home. There were bric-a-brac, knickknacks and possibly even some whatnots or thingamajigs.
He brought home old toys that did not get much older after my brothers and I started to play with them.
Most memorably, though, were dad's acquisitions of books. Out of hundreds of books, very few escaped his reading.
One notable exception would be a set of do-it-yourself repair books. My lack of carpentry, mechanic and other fix-it skills is an inheritance from my dad.
At least dad was wise enough to forego most home improvements and stick with his strength in book buying and reading.
One of the few projects that he undertook was to put up some more book shelves in the attic. As a result, the do-it-yourself books sat precariously on a shelf that was on a slope that most ski resorts would have envied.
I realized early that I inherited dad's lack of aptitude for building. I once built a bird house to place in our backyard. When I checked it the next day, the birdhouse had been condemned by a woodpecker building inspector.
On the plus side, I got my love of books - both buying and reading - from my dad. He was never a snob when it came to books.
Along with the sets of vintage books by novelist Guy du Maupassant and his lesser-known brother Ignatz du Maupassant, he had stacks of paperbacks.
That was a time when a paperback could be purchased for 95 cents, but that wasn't a good enough bargain for dad.
He would look for bundles of 10 or so paperbacks wrapped in plastic and priced at a dollar. These were books stores did not sell, so they ripped off the covers to return to the book companies for refunds.
The lack of a cover never bothered dad - or me for that matter. As long as all the rest of the words were inside the coverless book, that was OK by us.
I haven't bought any coverless paperbacks in many years, but I still try to uphold the family tradition when it comes to book buying.
I rarely visit those big bookstores primarily because their discounted books cost more than I am willing to exhume from my wallet.
NASCAR fans eagerly anticipate seeing the exit sign for the speedway that is the scene of that week's race. I get the same thrill when I spot a "Used books sale" sign.
Hearty eaters give directions by using the location of restaurants. Those who like to get pixilated on wine, beer and/or spirits are likely to use bars and taverns as landmarks.
When I give travel directions to someone, I use public libraries as guideposts. Most of them have continual sales of used books, so I purchase used books on a continual basis.
I try to be a bit more discriminating than my dad, focusing on hardcover books in humor, history, biography and spirituality, but that doesn't seem to be much help in curbing my acquisitions.
No matter how many bookcases we buy or bookshelves we build, I manage to fill them almost immediately.
My wife, Jo Ann, is considering buying me an electronic book reader that is offered by some of the major booksellers, but I don't know if that will work.
It doesn't weigh as much as a regular book, so it would probably keep sliding off the sloped bookshelf that I would build for it.