As part of the purging process in my Mom's move, we have sold several cars full of books to the local used book store. My mom went crazy, just basically throwing everything away that was within sight. This included a beautiful hardcover of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein (I kept it for myself — I'd consider framing it) and a book that my mom always loved called “We're Very Good Friends My Brother and I.” It was just this book with lumpy-looking illustrations of two little boys doing little boy things like playing in the woods and wrestling with their feet. When I saw that, I picked up the book and raised an eyebrow. She proceeded to look a little shamed, took the book and clutched it to her chest, saying “I always loved that book. You guys didn't care, but I loved it.”
Anyway, I drove to Centerville and carried no less than four or five gigantic boxes of books into the store. Every time they thought I was done I had more.
I browsed as they looked through the store, eventually picking up a CD (Para Toda Vida by The New Amsterdams for $3.50), VHS copies of The Royal Tennenbaums and Reality Bites ($3 each) and a book, called Boys Like Us. Basically a collection of short stories telling about various authors coming out (including Christopher Bram and a bunch of other homos I've never heard of).
So I haven't picked it up until just now and I flipped open the cover to see an inscription written in handwriting that looks to be a messy writer's attempt to be neat. “4/98. Rob, With love on your 21st, Mark.”
Aww.
I love it when you find enscriptions in used books. Especially when they're gay.