Tag Archives: Librarians

Need Some April Reading?

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I’m hoping the March showers will bring April flowers here in Lower Alabama. In the meantime, here’s some links to an article on relationships, the great global nonfiction versus fiction debate, and links for amputees, poets, and librarians.

For Amputees

This month is Limb Loss Awareness Month. (#LLAM) The Amputee Coalition of America’s National Limb Loss Resource Center is a great place to find information for anyone with limb loss, from born amputees like me, to those recovering from amputation surgery.

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Relationships

My wife Susan and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary last month. In a Facebook post, my cousin Gayle asked, “What’s the most important thing to share about your time together?”

“Friendship, empathy, forgiveness, funniness, and affection are a few important things,” I posted. About a week later, I read the article below. No matter the relationship, I think understanding one another is profoundly difficult and infinitely more challenging to sustain.

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For Readers and Writers

The next storm that crossed my path is the relationship readers and writers navigate between fiction and nonfiction. This global multilingual discussion will have you wondering about the origins of the word nonfiction and questioning the meaning of story.

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Student Librarians and Poets

Since it’s also National Poetry Month, I’ve included a link to an article that I netted for a library school assignment about Charles Bukowski. It’s not his poetry at the other side of the link below. A well-written (if a bit raunchy) profile from a 1976 Rolling Stone magazine interview has motivated me to go and read some Bukowski this April.

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Don’t forget, next week (April 10-16) is National Library Week, so visit your library, online (Fairhope Public Library) or in-person, to learn how Libraries Transform.

 

 

Is Parody the Sincerest Form of Flattery?

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Our group of bloggers attended the Social Media Conference earlier this week on the Baldwin County campus of the University of South Alabama.

After the conference, the Southern Bloggers Jubilee party sat outside for lunch at Panini Pete’s. Karyn got an email from Cal Tech’s swim coach about her son attending college on the west coast.

“Do you know who else went there?” I asked from across two tables.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “Who?”

“Weird Al Yankovic.”

A couple days later, I emailed Karyn. It turns out Cal State, not Cal Poly had emailed about her son. Can you guess what song’s stuck in my head?

Dare to be Stupid. It’s so easy now.

Chuck Klosterman said. “Nothing is ever in and of itself.” We are constantly looking for connections. That’s why I’ve decided that everything that happened during and after the conference can be summed up with two words. Weird Al.

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Angela Rand

I’ve been to lots of sessions led by Angela, the University of South Alabama’s Baldwin County Librarian. She does a great job of presenting and hosting. In fact, she’s Like a Surgeon. Using her scalpel, forceps, and retractors she brought a surgical team of librarians and a marketing company founder to the OR.

Dr. John Burgess

In “Classical Rhetoric for the Digital Age,” Burgess defined rhetoric and talked about Logos, Ethos, and Pathos. Obviously that triangle is the last one I think about when I post a photo of my grinning, glasses faced self in a cardboard cutout of Drew Daywalt’s book The Days the Crayon Quit. I was inspired by Weird Al, who has his own picture books, When I Grow Up, and My New Teacher and Me. (Also relevant for woman in the audience writing children’s books.) As a rhetorician, John said I should think about whether Facebook, blog, and Instagram posts project a persuasive message. Being a skeptical librarian, I probably don’t need to worry too much, since I only have 5 followers on Instagram and only 12 people like my Facebook post.

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Gump came to mind too, and not because it rhymes with stump, and leaves me a leg up on no legs, Lt. Dan. Burgess is an instructor at Alabama, and Winston Groom, the author of Forrest Gump, lives down the road in Point Clear. I remembered another Gump-ism and as it turns out, a circular argument: stupid is as stupid does. My wife Susan is always telling her second graders that you can’t use the word you are defining in the definition. I liked Burgess. He reminded me of a younger Dr. Demento, except Burgess had a red beard any Portlandian hipster would be proud to groom. He was no pirate though, more White and Nerdy, like me. Maybe next year we can bowl with the gangstas.

Beth Shepard

Angela built up such an introduction to Shepard that I was nervous that she wouldn’t deliver. She didn’t disappoint. Shepard had lots of useful information on Instagram and the most interactive audience session of the conference. For her efforts, she gets I Perform This Way because some of us went Gaga for her content and delivery on all things Instagram. Even better, I never imagined or saw photos of Shepard draped in a shawl of raw red meat. She said yoga so many times, I began to sing Y.O.D.A Yoda.Ya ya ya ya ya Yoda. I’m following Yoda on Instagram now. #yoda.

Paula Webb

Anyone who follows Shepard has to be comfortable in her own skin. Paula was, even as she was pointing out all the apps for the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, and the game called Solve the Outbreak. Webb’s focus was on government apps, including Smithsonian, which has an app called MEanderthal.

“I’ll have to download that app in the man cave,” I said, which got a good laugh, and reminded me of Bedrock Anthem. Yabba dabba dabba doo now. That’s Flintstone for post something will ya! Preferably, with your phone in one hand and your baby elephant vacuum cleaner in the other.

There’s even an app for Fat. When I walk out to get the mail (U.S. Postal Service), it measures on the Richter scale (FEMA). Down at the beach (Healthy Swimming), I’m a lucky man; I’m the only one who gets a tan (UV Index).

Melissa Hoffman

I loved how Hoffman described social media marketing as the “Million-legged Beast.” Where does that leave me? As the one-legged guy in an ass kicking contest, that’s where. Hoffman’s the marketing director of SixDegrees (not from Kevin Bacon), but has a few peeves about email. The fact that she doesn’t read spam, leads me to believe that for Hoffman, It’s all about the Pentiums, and it’s important to stay current. Your laptop is a month old, Well, that’s great, if you could use it as a, paperweight.

Our time is valuable, so Hoffman had some sage advice for us: Stop Forwarding that Crap to Me. If you do send or forward mail, companies with IT hackers, code crackers are blocking all your Mail Chimp and PicMonkey business.

Audience

Glasses, Guy, Glasses Guy, or Marcus was the social media guru turned heckler, and chamber of commerce blasphemer. However, Mr. Bluefish had lots of relevant comments and suggestions, just like CNR, (Charles Nelson Riley). Most important for the guys in attendance was his information about the men’s version of Instagram’s @whatsinmybag. @everydaycarry is what are you carrying for dudes. Glasses Guy reached into his pocket and pulled out a Lego Stars Wars character keychain. I think it was a stormtrooper, so let me just say, The Saga Continues.

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During the Southern Bloggers Jubilee feed session, AKA Eat It, we rehashed the conference. None of our bloggers were living in an Amish Paradise, acting technologically impaired.

We all got the message at the conference that if you “do” social media, you should never be Inactive.

My bloggers would never do anything Tacky, like live-tweet a funeral, take selfies with the deceased.

And we always own up to and immediately correct our Word Crimes. Most Bloggers could care less, which means we do care.

In fact, we love social media so much we’ve got the chutzpah, nay the Gump-tion to have our own social media and blogging conference. It’s still early on, and I’m optimistic that we have a better shot of holding a conference than Weird Al headlining halftime at Super Bowl XLIX. I definitely don’t want to be his Foil.

 

Why Oregon?

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That was the response from family, coworkers, and friends when I told them Sue and I were going to Oregon for vacation. I told them all the state had to offer and mentioned a few must dos, which we did.

Now that I’ve been back for a week, I asked myself the question again. Here’s a few of the moments that made my vacation such a fun, amazing, and unique experience.

City

Portland’s downtown library is a historic landmark. It was buzzing with activity the day I went. I happened upon a skateboarding exhibit on the third floor by Cal Skate, a local skateboarding shop that’s been in business since the early 1970s.

After going through the history of skateboards and checking out the old decks, trucks, and wheels, I wandered into the Literature and History Room and walked up to the information desk. I complimented the two library guys on the library and the exhibit, and followed up with a question.

“How did Portland get the nickname Stumptown?”

“I don’t know,” was the reply by the man my age. It didn’t seem to me like a difficult question. However, this is often a reactionary response. I say it too sometimes because, even though people come to the reference desk for information, no one likes a know-it-all. Perhaps we were just annoying out of towners, but providing answers or at least attempting to find answers to questions is what makes librarians librarians. I waited for the librarian to say more, like, “let me research that for you.” He didn’t. It was the first time since starting my blog that a librarian didn’t know, and was satisfied with not finding out.

I Stumped the Librarian!

Still burning for an answer, I joined a walking tour, Secrets of Portlandia, a free tour not including tip, led by a guy named Travis. He was a wealth of information on the culture and history of Portland, even though he told some really corny jokes along the way.

The city got its infamous nickname during the mid 19th century. Portland was built for it’s timber and proximity to the river. However, when they took these massive trees down, they left the stumps in the ground. And there they stayed, for decades, rotting away, slowly. Leaders in other frontier cities lured settlers away by giving the city the derogatory moniker Stumptown.

During that time, one Portlandian said, “Portland has more stumps than people.”

“We embrace the nickname now,” Travis told his group of ten tourists.

One company has cashed in on it.

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Mountain

Aside from my own, I didn’t see any stumps in Stumptown. I even checked the Japanese Tea Gardens, International Rose Garden, and Forest Park. I took a day trip and a hike to Mirror Lake, which offers a reflected view of Mt. Hood on its surface. According to a Timberline Lodge volunteer I chatted with on the hike, the older trees were “notched” along the base of the trunk so platforms or scaffolding could be built around the tree. This created a level surface for two loggers to stand on while they cut down the tree using a two man handsaw.  The stumps with notches are over 100 years old, according to our volunteer.

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Sea

Just like Lincoln City’s motto, I did “try something new.” I made a glass starfish at Jennifer Sears Glass Art. This hands on experience is a must do for any artist or tourist. (Also don’t miss a whale watch on a Zodiac boat)

Each step is hands on, from heating, shaping, cupping, pulling, and cutting.

After I finished my starfish, a flat-topped man in the audience (I didn’t know I had one while I was making my starfish) stopped me and said, “I like how you customized your starfish. Is that carbon fiber?” He was pointing to my prosthesis.

“Thanks, and yes it is,” I said.

“A friend of mine back home has a carbon fiber prosthesis too. His AR 15 has a carbon fiber barrel.”

“That must make for a cool Facebook photo,” I told him and he waxed on about guns.

“He’s modified it so there is no recoil when you fire it.” He spoke with the experience still fresh in mind, his hands cradling the make believe rifle.

“Sounds like you’ve got rifle envy,” I said.

“Yeah, I do, but hey, I’m gonna tell my friend about your starfish. That’s an original there.”

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Tenders of Information, Libations, and Patrons

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The restaurant patio was quieter than the library. There was one woman sitting outside, with a dog lying by her feet. Sue and I walked into the bar at Cosmo’s in Orange Beach and quickly realized we were the only patrons inside. It was 3:30 on the first good beach day in about a week and we were greeted by several staffers. They set tables and did other chores in advance of the maddening red-skinned, owl-eyed tourist hordes that would descend in a few hours seeking liquids and a late dinner.

I had just gotten the news that a former staff member died. Jill was only 35 when “Her heart stopped.” I was shocked by it, and yet I really didn’t know her, outside the library. Except for the time that she almost ran me over in her black SUV shortcutting through the Greer’s parking lot.

It turns out Jill had problems, like the rest of us, though hers in hindsight were a bit more serious. When we got to the bar, I was feeling thirsty after a few hours on the beach, and yes, a bit confused and saddened by the news of her death.

Grabbing chairs in the middle of the bar, we sat down and Sue ordered a Pensacola Bay Raspberry, and I ordered a NOLA Hopitoulas.

We had great service, two bartenders.

“Cassandra,” in dark-framed glasses, was getting stocked up on new work shirts. She was also gearing up for her shift and put on this accoutrement for opening bottles. She attached two bottle openers to her body where a wrestler would rake an opponent with forearm shivers.

We noticed all the stickers about dogs around the bar and both women told us Cosmo’s and the owners’ other restaurant Cobalt are the names of their dogs.

“I’ve got a sticker that you’d love,” I said, in between fried shrimp sushi bites.

“Yeah, what is it,” Cassandra asked.

‘In dog beers, I’ve only had one!’ She laughed, not a patronizing laugh either. I like to believe it was a genuine, never heard it before guffaw.

Cassandra asked how our sushi was and talked about how she was going to learn to roll sushi, by her coworker at Cosmo’s.

“Are you going to get together at work sometime?” I asked.

“No, I’ll just have it at my place,” she said.

“Oh, a party,”

“A rolling party,” she corrected me, and we laughed at the unspoken marijuana reference wafting through the bar.

After some more good conversation and barroom banter we parted ways.

I kept thinking about the sticker on the ride home, and I decided to send it to Cassandra.

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It was only today, writing this card to our barkeeper, that I realized the bartenders and reference desk jockeys have a few things in common. I also sit or stand behind a bar and greet patrons. Librarians are servers too, but of books, information, and computer assistance. Good service, not textbook, but professional, the kind where you form a brief but satisfying relationship, is our aim.

Cassandra’s job is not much different than mine at the reference bar at the Fairhope Library. Some similarities and differences are capitalism, ID for legal drinking age, and food safety. The library is not in it to make money, your library card is your ID to get free stuff and to use the computers, and we allow you a safe place to surf the web, check Facebook, or write your resume.

Patrons come to us when they want to tell a story, a joke, or are simply lonely or looking for answers. Conversation seems to be the most important thing patrons crave. If nothing else, bartenders and reference staff should be good listeners. Sometimes it’s easier being friends with strangers. Telling the problem to someone often lifts a measure of the burden and remember, when you find a good relationship, work at it, don’t take it for granted.

My co-worker Jessica reminded me yesterday about Forrest Little, a former Fairhope Library guy, who died on Father’s Day weekend in 2013.

Why, in less than a year, have the following people died? Theresa Barrows. Roberta Long. Tinley Combs. Forrest Little. AJ Crochet. Michael Mannion. Jill. I’ve been the memory tender for some of them here on these pages. I write the stories for the living, so we can read, and remember, but the tenders of bars will never have all the answers. We don’t always know. Sometimes we can only listen.

Write Hot Librarians

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A coworker came up to me last week and asked if I’d seen a recent episode of 60 Minutes. She told me that there was a couple on the program who were about to lose their house when they got the idea to start writing books to pay their mortgage. Jasinda and Jack Wilder, pseudonyms, began writing tales of lust and then self-published them as Ebooks. We went to Amazon to see what all the fuss was about. Jasinda’s books are described as “Titillating tales of sexy men and strong women.” She is prolific. Some were short, about 36 pages, and others were 200 pages or more. “Haunting, lovely, and must read,” is what the Smut Book Club has to say about Jack’s novel.

“They’ve sold a million books,” my comrade told me. Another staffer came to the reference desk wondering what the source was for all the nervous laughter in the middle of the library.

Reading over my shoulder, one said, “If they can do it why can’t we?”

From that conversation, we decided to write some romance/smut for the challenge, but mostly for the fun.

Five writers agreed to write something by Thursday. While I’m totally interested in reading what my female co-workers come up with, I’m a little anxious about my own “submission.” We’ve agreed on three pages, involving a character or characters from the library. I’m suggesting/hoping that everyone comes up with a title and their own pseudonym. I can’t wait to get my hands on their pages. If my peeps agree, the best piece, as voted on by the majority of writers, will be posted anonymously on my blog. My intuition is telling me that the guy at the library with a writing degree is going to be a runner-up once the clothes come off.