The local synagogue in Bath, Maine was having a book sale over July 4 weekend. With time to kill before an afternoon wedding, I wandered in. All books were 50 cents. I was surprised to find a paperback version of a title I’ve been meaning to read, so I tossed the cashier a dollar, said “keep the change,” (she was nonplussed), and stashed my new-to-me copy of The Tender Bar in my tote bag.
I’d forgotten about the book until this weekend when I started to read it. Thumbing the pages, I discovered a green index card, onto which someone had written in penciled script: