RiverRead Books: A Tribute

[EDITOR’S NOTE: After eight years of providing the best independent bookstore for miles, (and perhaps the nicest retail space in all of Binghamton), RiverRead Books is closing its doors. There is no good way to say goodbye to such a vital ‘third place,’ but Amy Shapiro - a valued community member and RiverRead regular – did her best to bid them farewell, on behalf of all of us. We can only hope that whatever takes its prime space on downtown Binghamton’s Riverwalk will try to match RiverRead as a place for conversation, community, and inspiration.]

"You see this goblet? For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, 'Of course.' When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.'"

-Ajahn Chah, instrumental in establishing Theravada Buddhism in the West

This is how I feel about RiverRead. The real wonder, obviously, is not that it is going out of business after nine years, but that we ever got to have it in the first place. An independent bookstore! In downtown Binghamton! With no parking! Now, there’s a business idea!

RiverRead was lent to us for a little while by its owners, Connie Barnes, Pat Day and the late Jane Andrus (and her surviving husband, Dick) who worked like crazy. Like the glass that was always broken, it was always out of business and every moment with it was precious.

From a commercial viewpoint, some of my favorite moments involved fancy friends from out of town raving about some card or book I got them, since for nine years, most of my gifts and cards came from RiverRead. They had great stuff.

I also enjoyed ordering “on Amazon” in the RiverRead days. I would find a book I wanted, email the link to RiverRead, they would order it and call me on the phone, and I would go get it. No passwords, no credit card over the internet and no cardboard boxes piling up.

RiverRead solved the problem of what books to buy. The selection was small, but perfect for me, as if the inventory arrived in a container marked “Middle-Aged NPR Listener, Female.” After a while, I didn’t even have to bother to look because Connie, Pat or Jane would just tell me what to buy.

RiverRead was not just a business but a community center. It supported a number of organizations in various ways; I have fond memories of many VINES meetings in the comfortable chairs, trying not to knock the graphic novels off the shelf in back of me. The poetry readings, small concerts and book groups added a depth and sparkle to downtown that won’t be replaced soon, if ever. The only thing to say about this is thank you.

The best thing about RiverRead though, was that I could go there just to go there. I know many others felt the same way. It was warm and welcoming, literally and metaphorically. It was a refuge on those lonely, gloomy afternoons when there seems to be no point to it all, and it was a place to stop in on a sunny day and joke around for a few minutes. There was a good chance of running into someone. It was a place to go when you wanted a friendly conversation - nothing deep - a little civic whining, and maybe a Leo’s Chocolate.

I would like to remember RiverRead with sweet nostalgia and Buddhist-style acceptance of the transience of all things. But I’m not there yet. It seems that the glass didn’t just fall, but was pushed. We make our community; among other things, we make it with our dollars. Local businesses need customers. They won’t have enough of them if too many people decide to save a few bucks by shopping online. We have lost one great place. Let’s not lose any more. Okay?

Shapiro is a lawyer at Hinman, Howard & Kattell LLP and has lived in Binghamton for 26 years.