In early 1973 I rather reluctantly returned to Richland. I had quit the low-paying job in State College after a dispute with the boss (he was about to fire me anyway, I think), and my parents had recently bought an apartment building and were offering me a no-rent place to stay, so it seemed like a reasonable option while I figured out what I wanted to do.

I managed to move in to the apartment on East Main Street and there was only one tiny little problem. Where to put the baggie that I had brought with me from State College.

We called it grass in those days.

I decided that the best place would be behind a book in my bookcase, as nobody ever took an interest in my books.

The bookcase was a waist-high, two-sided room divider monstrosity that I had built in eighth grade shop under Mr. Atkins. I got a C for my effort. When I initially brought it home we placed it in the living room of the West Main Street house on the hill, as there really was nowhere else to put it, and it literally divided the living room into two. Sadly, I don’t seem to have a photo of it anywhere.

After that, when we moved to South Race Street it was consigned to my bedroom, and eventually I lugged it up to State College when I shared an apartment with David and Walter. Later it took up an enormous amount of space in the one room apartment on Burrowes Street that I sublet from Ron Funk.

Now it had made the trip back to Richland where it was dividing the living room of the apartment in two. Happily, by this time I had nearly enough books to fill both sides of it.

So I picked the thickest book on the top shelf and stuck the baggie behind that, secure in the knowledge that no one would ever accidentally come across it.

A day or two later I got a visit from my mother, and she brought along my aunt Joan and Sherry Miller, Kirk’s sister. I had always wondered why Sherry came along, but now I know that her family moved to Manheim several years earlier (that’s where Joan and Mark lived as well), so it all makes sense now. Joan must have asked Sherry if she wanted to come along for a visit to Richland.

They weren’t inside the apartment for more than a minute before Sherry made a beeline to my bookcase and started eagerly looking through the titles. No one, and I mean nobody, had ever done that before!

Joan was trying to make conversation. “So are you all settled in now?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” Sherry was running her finger along the spines of the books on the top shelf.

“So what are your plans? Are you looking for a job?”

“Uh, I— ah, Isaac Asimov!” 

“What?” 

“That book, Sherry. I didn’t know you were an Asimov fan.” Sherry had zeroed in on the thickest book on the top shelf and started to pull it out.

“Who? Oh, I’m not. It’s just this guide to the Bible looks interesting…” 

“Why don’t we look at the rest of the place?” That was my mother.

That was enough to distract Sherry, and she slid the thick Asimov’s Guide to the Bible back into its place.

The rest of the visit was innocuous enough and Sherry never returned to the bookcase.

After their visit, I found someplace else to hide the baggie.