My mind, like my house, is a very messy place sometimes.

I frequented yard sales as a teen-ager.

I had first printing Robert Heinlein paperbacks (bought for _quarters_ before I knew what they were worth).

Over a thousand books, probably about 50 of which were rares (either impossible to find or original printing SF paperbacks.

My mother, who didn't improve of science fiction and fantasy, never realized the worth of the books.

Christmas break I pack them all up carefully, except the suitcase of books that I took back to college over Christmas. Because my mother was thinking she might have to move.

My mother moves, my books go to my grandmother's attic, all good. Then my grandmother ends up in the hospital long-term the books get moved to my aunt's.

Mid-semester a year later, my aunt decides she needs the space so she can move furniture to re-do her first floor. She doesn't bother to call _me_ who would have arrange movement of books and storage, no she calls my mother. Five times.

Books end up the front porch. In PA. In winter. During rain and snow.

My mother had stored other sundries at my aunt's house, and when I got home for Christmas break, my aunt assured me that she had saved the important stuff - my HS diploma and graduation gown.

I cried. For days. Salvaged 3 boxes of books, none of the rares survived.

I eventually spoke to my mother again, but that was a horrible, horrible Christmas break.

What the hell is in the water in PA that they don't think keeping books safe is ok?

I had a fair number of hard to find/1st additions too. My dad had a huge collection of the Ace doubles that he got when he was in the Air Force.

Well, it has to do with what the books were - science fiction and fantasy. If they had been "classics", or leather-bound books, I would still have them today. But since it was old papers with things like space ships on the cover...

I am still the odd one out with my family.

Oh My God. That is terrible. But I have you semi-beat, because my father, when I was in high school, found me reading "Cat's Cradle" by Vonnegut, and decided that since it had cursing in it (Fuck, etc.) and that the rest of my books were mostly sf/fantasy, too, that I should burn my whole book collection. So I ended up being marched to the trash can (we could burn trash in those days, out in the country) and setting fire to my books. I did have a few escape the pogrom because they were in my great-aunt's house at the time, but I'm still cranky about that, some thirty-some years later.

I wish I hadn't read this thread. I was all mellow and happy 10 minutes ago... =:o{

(S'okay, not blaming you guys. =;o} )

My mother, who didn't approve of science fiction and fantasy, never realized the worth of the books.

I can't understand this attitude. Most parents would be happy that their children were reading without being prodded.

She was so very happy when I turned out to be reader, and I can remember when we had so little money, and she would find some to spare for books when school had those Scholastic sales...

... but I was an odd child. I was the most picked on kid at school, she wanted me to make friends, and I wanted to read (I really didn't see the point in trying to befriend people who called me names and worse. She thought if I tried hard enough to fit in, it would stop) 'cause I could escape in books.

And it was rural, bible-belt PA. My home town boasted having the most churches per capita in the country and most of them were very, very fundamentalist.

So, no, the fantasy and science fiction books didn't go over so well. Let's put it this way, I was not allowed to celebrate Halloween. It was the "Devil's Holiday".

I paid for the majority of those books by shoveling snow and skipping lunch.

Classics, historical period books, heck, even romances were acceptable. Science fiction and fantasy were not.