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It's funny how people read my column.  From people in Racine, I received comments about "Jack's" bookstore and how much they, too, were going to miss it.  People in Burlington, however, responded mainly to the parts about the departing superintendent.  Jack called me the day it appeared.  He said that he couldn't believe how many people showed up just to say hello and goodbye at the same time.  I could tell in his voice that there was a hint of him choking up.  He also said, simply, "Thank you."  That meant more than anything to me.

    Two guys I know, both named Jack, retired in the same month.
    One was my boss in Burlington. That Jack left the job of superintendent of the Burlington Area School District, but didn't really retire. That Jack went on to do some work for UW-Green Bay. That Jack received a nice separation package even though the school district was in a dire financial crisis at the time and was literally broke, forced to cut back on nearly everything, except, evidently, separation benefits to outgoing superintendents.
    That Jack got feted at a "retirement" dinner which cost twenty-five bucks a plate to attend. Even district employees had to pay.
    I didn't go.
    It's not like I secretly wanted his job and hoped he would put in a good word for me if I organized, paid for, or attended his "retirement" party. Besides, I've never been one for schmoozing with bigwigs or mucky mucks.
    If I was going to spend twenty-five bucks to see somebody off to retirement, it would be on the other Jack I know, and it wouldn't have been for food.
    I live on the north side of town, and have always complained about having to drive to the big impersonal mall bookstores. So when Jack and his wife, Janet, opened the "Little Professor Book Center" at Shorecrest, a small shopping less than a mile from my home,  many years ago, I welcomed every opportunity I could get to visit the place.
    Finally, here was a bookstore within walking distance of my house. In fact, it was within walking distance of Jack's house, and occasionally I would see him walking by on his way to work
    I soon frequented the store and stopped calling it "Little Professor." The Wife always knew where I was headed whenever I said, "I'm going to Jack's."
    Trips to the grocery store next door weren't to pick up an extra gallon of milk. An extra gallon of milk merely became an excuse to stop in and browse for the latest new book releases.
    Sometimes I would stop at "Jack's" before going for the milk and browse so long that I would forget to buy the milk. Sometimes I would get the milk and then go browse. I knew when I had been browsing too much if my milk started to curdle.
    Jack didn't mind my browsing. He knew that some days I would buy something, and other days I would just make a list for The Wife to buy for my birthday or some other occasion.
    The Kid and The Daughter liked to go to "Jack's," too. He kept an octagon shaped fish tank near the children's book section in the store. Whenever The Kid or The Daughter walked in, Jack would walk toward the back of the store with them. He would reach up to the top shelf and pull down a jar of fish food and hand it to them to feed the goldfish.
    It made them feel special in "Jack's." I never told them that Jack let every kid feed the fish whenever they came in. Jack probably had the fattest goldfish in town.
    Sometimes, my kids told me one day, Jack scared them. It was those reading goggles he wore. I thought he looked like a welder in them. My kids thought he looked like the Terminator.
    Even though I always called the place "Jack's," it was Janet who also made the place run. If I walked in and asked for a particular book, Jack could tell me if they had the book, and sometimes could even point me in the general direction of where it was in the store. Janet always knew exactly where the book was.
    Jack loved to talk. Janet loved to listen. Janet would just nod her head knowingly whenever Jack would start in with a story she had heard a hundred times before.
    In business, they say, location is everything.  "Jack's" eventually had to move from Shorecrest to a new location next to the K-Mart at a bigger, newer, more frequented mall.  Next to K-Mart, "Jack's" saw more business traffic, more customers, and more sales.
    I didn't stop in to browse as often. It's not within walking distance, and K-Mart necessities just aren't as essential to daily living as grocery store necessities. Still, every time I had to get something from K-Mart, I would also walk over and see what was new in books.
    Mall bookstores have always seemed too impersonal to me. Sure, the clerks are friendly and helpful. They can order any book in print and help me find what I'm looking for in the store. But, so could Jack.
    Jack knew me and my kids. So did Janet. So did the people they hired as clerks. I think that had more to do with the nature of "Jack's" than with my frequenting the place. It's the way ma and pa businesses are supposed to operate. It's something that the mall bookstores can never have and something "Jack.'s" never lost..
    Maybe it's because Jack used to be librarian for Racine. Maybe it's just the way he and his wife were, but, every time I walked into "Jack's" I said to myself, "Here is somebody who loves books just as much as I do." That's another thing the mall bookstores will never have.
    Jack and Janet closed the store at the end January, 1997.  One of those "Everything Must Go" signs was in the window.  I stopped in one last time and spent that 25 bucks they wanted to the other Jack's dinner party.  I got a better kind of food.
    Jack went on to run a small book ordering service.  I used it a couple of times, but it just wasn't the same.  It was too hard to browse.
    So, two guys I knew named Jack retired in the same month, I wish them continued luck in whatever they do with the rest of their lives. One Jack got a fancy dinner and left behind an empty district coffer. The other got whatever profits he made in the last month of business and left behind an empty storefront.
    One was my boss. One became a friend. One I really miss.