I’m no dumpster diver but I often pause at a give-away pile. See what’s being offered. Mainly it’s junk. Once in a while I’ll find a item worth snagging.

An item of value, you might say.

Like yesterday.

Yesterday I found a book worth keeping.

Right there at my Marina Dumpster.

Somebody set up a little altar of free shit.

A pile of good stuff for a change.

I snagged this little shelf I can use-modify-stick-in-a-corner…and ultimately throw away. Or not. It might fit in a corner of my pilot house.

What else?

A little wooden box. Kind of nice. Put something in it. Like a little statue. Not a Buddha. A St. Francis maybe.

Good old Francis. He preached to the birds, you know. And a wolf. He preached to a wolf. And the Muslims. He preached to the Sultan Of Egypt…all of them listened good naturedly. Because it was Saint Frances. They dug him!

Anyway, what else I find on the give-away pile?

Some books…

None of then worth reading.

So I left them on the pile.

I left the books.

All except one.

Big Sur by Jack Kerouac.

I had to do a double take.

That’s right.

A Kerouac Novel.

Somebody tossed away Big Sur by Jack Kerouac.

Who throws away a Kerouac?

Big Sur is all about Kerouac when he’s starting to lose his grip. It’s the first book he wrote which is all about him being famous. He finally made it. He made it big time. He’s the King of the Beats.

He wonders, why am I not happy?

Somebody asks him what it’s like being famous:

“It’s like old newspapers blowing down Bleecker Street.”

When he finds his own fame less than desirable–worse, when he realizes Fame may hasten his own death–what does he do?

He writes about it!

People say Kerouac drank himself to death.

I like to think he wrote himself to death. Like Balzac. Like Thomas Wolfe to a lesser degree. Pick up a copy of The Subterraneans which is only 80 pages long. He’ll stick in your head like glue. This can be good or bad depending on your sensibility. Truman Capote was asked about Kerouac’s writing. He said,  “that’s not writing, that’s typing” And it is. It’s crazy magical often head-banging typing. The magic is how he manages to make a point. He talks you off a ledge…talks you all the way down…lands you on a safety net.

He offers you a truly genuine human being!

And you are grateful for this gift.

Unless of course you toss his book before you land, cuz you can’t stand his mad talking….you don’t care that he’s pouring his heart out.

You don’t have the patience.

No, I figure tossing a copy of Kerouac is kind of like tossing the New Testament.

And I’m one of those who can’t stand his mad taking!

And yet I salvaged this copy of Big Sur.

It joins the half dozen or so books I own.

Say what you like about Kerouac’s writing.

Jack Kerouac is arguably the most Remarkable Literary Man this country ever produced.

So I gotta ask one more time:

Why would anybody who knows better toss a copy of Kerouac on a give-away pile?