These black bookshelves have followed my son-in-law through his life in San Francisco since the days before he met my daughter more than a decade ago. Yesterday they came to Spencer Alley, brought by my daughter and son-in-law in a rented truck, for my use and convenience. Their apartment-remodeling project calls for these old bookcases to be replaced by other newer bookcases which will no doubt be photographed and appear here also, in time. For now, it is enough to show the old ones in a new home. For twenty years I have lived without books at home. By choice, keeping possessions to a pragmatic minimum. I did not need to own books, I reasoned, with my work as a librarian offering me a familiar collection of half a million books to choose from whenever I wanted. Now, however, as I begin to think about retirement, I find myself with a lively desire to build up a small book collection. The particulars of this collection – its plan and design – will be elaborated in this space once it has achieved completion. In the meantime, all thanks go to my capable truck-driving son-in-law and to my considerate daughter.