Last night, right after I clicked on “send newsletter now” (for Substack) and “publish now” (for WordPress), I closed my laptop and went to watch the Chiefs-Dolphins game with Rob, who, at that moment, was in the kitchen.

So, I’m now in the room that my family calls “the library,” waiting for Rob to return. Bear in mind, our “library” holds one normal-size bookshelf (which is filled with books, mostly mine) and one long bookshelf (which displays a blend of my books and Rob’s books) and under which the TV sits on a hope chest that’s filled with VHS tapes and diplomas.

The TV is on, but on mute. The commentators were commentating, and I was on tip-toes trying to read the spines of various books I haven’t looked at in years.

I pull this out:

It’s a first edition. In okay condition. I found it at a thrift shop.

Rob’s still in the kitchen, so I open to the Introduction and read this, written by William Faulkner in 1932:

This book was written three years ago. To me it is a cheap idea, because it was deliberately conceived to make money.

Those words “deliberately conceived to make money” hit me because I feel like I’ve been spending a lot of time sharing my observations of stuff that seems to have been “deliberately conceived to make money.”

You know that sensation when you get a new variety of car and it seems everywhere you look, there’s that car?

This is different. I didn’t go looking for that book.

It was the one I randomly picked.

And still, the coincidence feels meaningful in some way.

I can’t help but wonder if Sanctuary Medicinals’ Co-Founders Jason Sidman and James Alex were fans of the literary legend or if Sanctuary had a different origin story.