There’s a word. Or maybe it’s a phrase. I am trying to remember it without googling it. It has to do with hearing something for the first time—ever—in your life, and then having it crop up every time you turn around. Sometimes it’s just a word. This time it was a book.
Not just any book. A book about Marshall Field’s Department Store in the 1920s. A book about a young woman who worked in the advertising department there. Imagine a mystery based on that!
The book first appeared as a footnote in an article about Chicago history. Then the floodgates opened. For two months: at lectures, in articles, on the web…it was like the universe was teasing me, tempting me to find this book. One problem. It had been out of print since the mid 1950s.
“Through Charley’s Door” became my own holy grail. I had three different used bookstores on the lookout for it. I scoured estate sales, but never found one. Then, finally, I found a “fair to bad” copy online. Condition wasn't great and the price wasn't inconsequential. I didn’t care. My fingers couldn’t move quickly enough to send them my money.
Two days later I was at one of those giant, multi-vendor antique malls. You can see it coming, right? There, on the shelf, a signed copy of “Through Charley’s Door.” Of course I bought it. I mean, it was signed.
Okay, full disclosure. After a week of trying to remember what this was called, I googled it. It's called the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon. I feel okay for not remembering that.
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