April 9, 1997 - Arbor Day

Shortly after I got out of college but before I found gainful employment, I began to have the most vivid dreams you can imagine. In every one of them, I was called to the desert, a place I had never been.

So I packed my meager belongings into a backpack and bedroll (total weight: 14 pounds), and stuck out my thumb on old Route 66. (This was 20 years ago. I wouldn’t recommend it now.)

Two days later, I found myself coming down from the New Mexico mountains into the Sonoran desert at sunrise. I was awed.

The land looked utterly familiar, yet the colors astonished me. At the time, I took my recognition of the place as evidence of reincarnation. Nowadays, I suspect that it looked familiar because like most boomer baby boys, I was raised on black and white westerns -- which also explains why the colors surprised me.

I was particularly fascinated by the saguaro -- the tall green cactus trees, often a century old, stubborn and ungainly, but with a fleeting and fragile flower.

Now, of course, I live midway between Sonoran desert and the Great Lakes. Family situations have called for me to head back to Illinois several times recently.

Now, it’s the old deciduous trees of my youth that startle me. “But there are so many TREES,” I said over and over to my family. Great gnarled trunks, silhouettes against the twilight. A rustle in the wind that you just don’t hear in Douglas County. There are woods in the world, places still and dank; shaded and holy.

Driving back to the browner, more sparse lands of Colorado, I found myself remembering all the time I had spent reading in trees as a child. I can remember losing my place in a book, just to watch the play of shadow leaves on the page. My secret dream as a librarian is to build libraries that make people feel just like that.

So that’s the inner significance to one librarian of Arbor Day. But some of you, I know, only concern yourselves with the bottom line of this important American tradition. So consider this passage from a publication called "Update Forestry," by Michigan State University:

“A tree is worth $196,250.00, according to Professor T.M. Das of the University of Calcutta. A tree living for 50 years will generate $31,250 worth of oxygen, provide $62,000 worth of air pollution control, control soil erosion and increase soil fertility to the tune of $31,250, recycle $37,500 worth of water and provide a home for animals worth $31,250. This figure does not include the value of the fruits, lumber or the beauty derived from the presence of trees. Just another sensible reason to take care of our trees and participate in Arbor Day planting programs locally.”

In short, trees are good for the soul, good for the ecology, and good for the economy.

This year, the Douglas County Arbor Day Committee has events planned not only on April 19, but on several other days this month. I understand that volunteers are still particularly needed for the “RePlumming Plum Creek” project (4/19/97, 9 a.m., call 892-NEWS for more info), and “ReCherrying Cherry Creek” on the same day, same time, same number.

Other contact numbers include: Don Walsh (840-9546) in the Parker area, Em Wilson (792-9734) in Lone Tree (they’ll be planting ONE tree -- isn’t that great?), Gordon Marsh at 841-2770 ext. 313 for a Ponderosa High School project, Jim Frankenfeld at 791-0430 in Highlands Ranch, Curt Sloan at 470-0140 in the Pinery, Shannon King at 660-1517 for Franktown, Curt Williams at 660-1052 in Castle Rock, and Patty Horan at 688-5242 for Castlewood Canyon.

Further, your gifts are both needed, and tax deductible. Mail them to DCLC/Arbor Day, PO Box 462, Castle Rock CO 80104.

April 2, 1997 - Library Website

Among my jobs is to serve as the library district's "web master." What does that mean? I get to decide how our World Wide Web "pages" will look, how they're organized, and generally, what kind of information or links the public will find there.

Our "home page" (whose location is http://douglas.lib.co.us) provides access to four broad kinds of information:

1. Library resources. The most significant of these is our computer catalog. This catalog contains information about virtually every item the library owns: every book, magazine, audiotape, videotape (a few of our pamphlets, microfilm listings, or reference folders are not included, but they were never included in the card catalog, either). Patrons who connect to our computer catalog from home can not only look up such materials, but also place reserves on them, and even direct us to send them to any of our libraries for pick-up.

Library resources also include our EBSCO databases, for which we pay an annual licensing fee. The EBSCO databases provide indexing, abstracts, and many full-text articles from 350 of the most popular periodicals.

These computer resources mean that for those patrons with home computers and modems, the library is open 24 hours a day -- handy when you've got a report due the next day.

2. Local links. I believe that the library district was the first publicly-funded web site in Douglas County. But I've tried to keep track of all the other ones: among them the Castle Rock Chamber of Commerce, the Town of Castle Rock, the Douglas County School District site, Douglas County, and the Sheriff's Department.

All of these sites, in turn, have been most cooperative about linking back to the library. It's my hope that once people stumble across any of the public web sites, they'll be able to move relatively easily to all of the others.

You can find our current list of links at http://douglas.lib.co.us/your_community/county_info/local_links.htm

3. Local information. This includes a good deal of information about the library: hours, locations and phone numbers, and some of our special services (the Local History Collection, and our Books By Mail program for Deckers' residents).

It also includes something I hadn't thought much about in the beginning: web publishing, not just pointing to information other's have created, but actually creating some ourselves. Our biggest such file is located at http://douglas.lib.co.us/your_community/county_info/community_guide/dcservcl.html (for Big Community Information Referral). It lists several hundred local social service, civic, and not-for-profit organizations serving Douglas County residents, all of which are updated at least annually by library staff and volunteers.

Finally, it includes the on-line newspapers editions developed by the Douglas County News-Press, and posted free of charge. These articles -- especially when fronted by our automated indexing software -- greatly facilitate the retrieval of local historical information. You can find the News-Press library site at http://douglas.lib.co.us/your_community/dcnparchives.htm.

4. Web search tools. Finally, despite all our local or contractually provided databases, we still may not provide what you're looking for. So we have provided a page from which you can search all the resources of the Internet. It's located at http://douglas.lib.co.us/e_reference/tools.html.


Finally, our web site provides for a new form of communication. Sure, you could always call me (668-8752). You could write me at 961 S. Plum Creek Blvd, Castle Rock CO 80104. But those of you who have e-mail understand that it is often much simpler to type up a quick electronic message while you're thinking about it, perhaps about one of these columns, or about a library policy, or about a problem you've had with our service.

Now, you can not only reach me at jaslarue@earthlink.net, but you can also communicate directly with any of the members of our Library Board of Trustees. You'll find their e-mail addresses at http://douglas.lib.co.us/your_community/how_help/board_trustees.html.

In April (at Philip S. Miller), and we hope in May or early June at Parker, we'll put be putting out our new, graphical workstations for public Internet access. Either then, or now (if you have access from work or home) look over some of these new web resources and let us know what you think of them.

March 19, 1997 - Public input on Oakes Mill Library

My wife and I used to follow old Route 66 from Chicago to Arizona.

It was exciting to see the stretches that were still a vibrant "America's Main Street." There were the distinctive old Phillips 66 gas stations. There were the first motels (a word created from "motor" and "hotel"). There were hundreds of mom-and-pop local eateries.

But about 20 years ago, Route 66 was strangled to death. It was replaced by (in succession) I-55, I-44, and I-40.


And so we come to our Oakes Mill Library. Our smallest 7-day-a-week building, Oakes Mill (on the corner of Lone Tree Parkway and Yosemite) is desperately crowded. It was built for 6,000 to 9,000 library materials. It currently houses some 37,000 items. And that's not enough.

In 1996, Douglas County voters approved sufficient resources to renovate or establish libraries in almost every area of the county: Oakes Mill, then the Philip S. Miller Library in Castle Rock, then Roxborough and Highlands Ranch, then Parker. This year, we're working on Oakes Mill.

So the Trustees are committed to finding the best solution for each of our locations. The resources are there. That takes care of the first condition of creating a good public building.

Branch Manager Gina Woods has created, with staff input and review, a thoughtful "program" for the building, carefully defining just what Oakes Mill should be doing as its serves the "neighborhood" of Acres Green and Lone Tree. That takes care of the second condition.

Third, the Library Board of Trustees has engaged architects Dennis Humphries and Joe Poli (the folks who transformed a bowling alley into our stunning Parker Library) to investigate alternatives for the building. At this point, we've narrowed down the options to two: renovate the building (roughly doubling the space on two, possibly three levels), or tear it down and start over, building a more logical new floor plan on a single floor.

There are, of course, several trade-offs between the two approaches. But the cost difference is much closer than I expected it to be.

So now we need some civic engagement.
At the Oakes Mill Library, Tuesday night, March 31, I will be presenting our options in more detail. I would very much like to hear from the residents of Acres Green and Lone Tree about this important civic project. It is they who will use the building, and I'd like it to suit them.
Sometimes the Interstate jogged just a half mile or so to the right or left, turning once bustling thoroughfares into abruptly gray ghost towns.

Sometimes, Route 66 became Business 55 (or 44, or 40). But Route 66 produced great postcards of frequently wacky local attractions. Business 55/44/40 produced roads that were eerily identical; the same McDonald's and Denny's and Wendy's and Pizza Huts repeated like the backgrounds in a Flintstone cartoon.

Much the same thing has happened in the heart of our cities. Where once every little town boasted an often idiosyncratic domed stone building outside of which was some kind of public monument, nowadays we get big, dull, flat-roofed cubes, air-tight and claustrophobic, landscaped in black plastic and wood chips. I call it Leggo architecture.

Yet public buildings can be a source of great local pride, can in fact define a civic identity.

Four things must be present.

First, there must be public decision-makers who recognize the significance of public buildings. It's also their job to make sure the resources exist in the first place.

Second, there must be conscientious staff to define the functional needs of the space.

Third, there must be architects of imagination, insight, and skill.

Fourth, there must be active civic involvement.

March 12, 1997 - First Annual Ayn Rand Beer-fest

It started when a school librarian posted a question on "libnet," an Internet-based bulletin board. A principal had asked her to come up with a list of titles that high school students should read before they go to college.
What books would we recommend?

Over the next week, some two or three dozen titles were offered, all-in-all, a fascinating exercise. I recommended (among others) Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn (to rhyme with "pine") Rand. Abruptly, the bulletin board bristled with impassioned attacks -- and defenses -- of Ayn Rand's writings. Some people saw Ayn Rand as a sort of childhood disease. She was something they got exposed to, and affected them strongly, but from which they eventually recovered.

Others spoke of her works warmly, with profound respect, but admitted that they had significant disagreements with Rand's philosophy (called "Objectivism").

I felt entirely justified by the furor. I love that book, which is one of the reasons I've read it 37 times. Forty years after its publication, Atlas Shrugged still rouses the most fervent reactions. This is what a book should be: an intellectual challenge to every philosophic premise you hold, an absorbing and altogether intriguing plot, heroic characters, exciting and dramatic action.

What happens after you read it, of course, is up to you.

But in this exchange of views on libnet, it finally became clear that about 8-12 people wanted to get together and argue about Rand some more.

So it was that FAARB-Fest (the First Annual Ayn Rand Beer-Fest) came to be. It was held on Saturday, March 8, 1997, at the Il Vicino brew pub in Salida, Colorado, "the town that checks its premises."

Among those attending this historic event were Ed Quillen (whose columns appear in the Denver Post), and Nancy Bolt (the state librarian of Colorado). But I was pleased that we pulled in people all the way from Denver to Montrose to La Junta.

One of our attendees had actually met Ayn Rand at a book-signing as well as seeing her speak several times. He described the encounter like this: "Her eyes were huge. I was a nobody and yet she was very attentive. It wasn't like a politician; she wasn't glazed or phony. There was a moment of genuine interest and engagement. She impressed me."

This same person attended many of the sessions of the Nathaniel Branden Institute. Nathaniel Branden was the man that Rand, 25 years his senior, had designated her "intellectual heir." Until 1968, Branden shared space with Rand's husband on the dedication page of "Atlas Shrugged."

In 1968, Rand broke off all contact with Branden, a story told movingly and insightfully by Barbara Branden (Nathaniel's ex-wife) in her book "The Passion of Ayn Rand: a Biography."

And perhaps the break was a good thing.

Before 1968, Nathaniel Branden, by many accounts, had become an arrogant cult leader. If one of the many young students drawn to Rand's ideas raised a question that wasn't perfectly orthodox "Objectivism," then that student was likely to be psychologically deconstructed before a glassy-eyed and tightly repressed audience.

The True Believer followers of Ayn Rand, it turns out, were also known (by outsiders) as "Randroids."


But then, you can't blame the founder for the followers. Or not entirely.

Other FAARB-Fest topics included: Is it intellectually inconsistent to love the works of Ayn Rand but work for tax-supported libraries? Did Hank Rearden and Francisco D'Anconia really remain celibate for the rest of their lives? Could the ideas of Ayn Rand have been the source for the race of Vulcans in the fictional universe of Star Trek?

Whatever your take on Rand, I am confident that her place in history is secure. It's not too soon to get in your reservations for the Ayn Rand Beer-Fest II (date to be determined). But I've got dibs on the T-shirt concession.

March 5, 1997 - Send in the Clones

Well, mankind (in the form of Dr. Ian Wilmut, a Scottish embryologist) has cloned a sheep. Cloning, for those of you who don't follow such things, is the replication of an individual member of a species. The famous baby sheep is an exact genetic copy -- the identical twin -- of another, adult sheep.

Straight away, pundits began speculating about the ethics of cloning a human being (although science is still a ways from knowing how to do that).

As it happens, this topic has been dealt with extensively in science fiction. Nancy Mars Freedman's "Joshua Son of None," for instance, is the story of an unsuspecting clone of John F. Kennedy. The story focuses on recreating enough of the social environment of Kennedy's "twin" to produce a vigorous political leader.

"Joshua" dealt with the classic conflict between "nature" and "nurture." Are we who our genes say we are, or are we the products of our upbringing?

This defines one kind of intriguing speculation about the use of clones: the serial immortality of strong leaders, or mathematicians, or musicians. Think of it as a bank -- or even a library -- of human genotypes.

If you're inclined toward paranoia, you might imagine a grimmer scenario. Suppose we cloned warriors (as in Frank Herbert's Duncan Idaho, of the "Dune" series). Or, you might find it attractive to consider cloning deliberately brain-dead clones to use for spare body parts -- as in Robert Heinlein's "Time Enough for Love."

Each of these possibilities raises new ethical quandaries.

Another intriguing book about cloning was "Glory Season," by David Brin. This "female utopia" novel, the only one I know of that was written by a man, is predicated on a society that largely perpetuates itself by cloning (or, more technically, through the practice of "parthogenesis," where mothers give birth to their twins). So there might be, for instance, a "House of LaRue," presided over by the oldest female LaRue, and populated almost exclusively by her exact genetic duplicates of various ages.

There is something enormously seductive in having your child be ... yourself. You could raise yourself right, avoiding all those mistakes your parents made. Of course you wouldn't make any mistakes yourself, because you would really understand this child, right?

But let's suppose that you did manage to avoid all your parents' gaffs -- in itself an unlikely proposition. (I won't even get into the greater likelihood of introducing your own mistakes.) The child wouldn't be just like you anymore, would he/she? Even identical twins are, after all, separate people.

Beyond that, the world into which your clone was born wouldn't be the same as the world you entered. Even if you had perfect recall about your childhood, circumstances would be different. So too would parenting decisions -- and consequently, the child.

Then there's the question of evolution. Science tells us that the shuffling of genes from generation to generation makes us more fit, generally speaking, to survive. If we "freeze" the genetic pattern, aren't we just asking for nature to swoop down and wipe us out?

As always, science fiction has given us a heads-up on the future. It might be worth a trip to the library to look over some of the titles I've mentioned.

As my friend Connie Willis (Hugo Award winning science fiction novelist) once told me, "Anyone could see that the invention of the automobile would make a huge difference in our society. But it takes a science fiction writer to foresee the traffic jam."

February 26, 1997 - Nicky Mead and More

I talked to a fellow recently who told me he once attended a funeral and a wedding on the same day. He said it left him feeling ... odd. I think I understand.

Saturday, February 22, I attended the dedication of the Genevieve Nichols Mead Community Room, at the beautiful new Virginia Village Branch of the Denver Public Library.

Genevieve, known to her many Douglas County friends as “Nicky,” was the mother of our Douglas County libraries, founded exactly 30 years ago. A little over 20 years ago, she moved to Denver, where she worked for the Denver Public Library and became an vital part of the Virginia Village neighborhood.

The lovely community room, funded by over $15,000 of local contributions, was standing room only. The Denver School of Arts String Ensemble played quietly in the adjacent children’s room. One of the speakers was Laura Christensen, President of the Denver Public Library Commission, who praised Genevieve’s spirit of service.

Next, Susan Casey of the Denver City Council spoke about how a childhood meeting with a librarian was her first encounter with a professional woman in a managerial role. She spoke movingly about how many lives Genevieve may have inspired, how many young women for whom she was a life-altering role model.

I spoke briefly about her contribution to Douglas County’s library system. I also expressed the hope that the people who will use the new community room in Virginia Village will continue Genevieve’s tradition of bringing people together around a common cause, of working cheerfully and persistently to build a better community.

Finally, her son, Jay Mead, spoke on behalf of Genevieve’s family. I suppose it’s not surprising that such an extraordinary woman had such intelligent, articulate, and gracious children.

That same night, I attended a second community event. But this one, frankly, was much sillier. It was part of Parker’s Celebration of Literature: a light-hearted murder mystery. This occasion, one of several events sponsored by the Parker Cultural Commission, was sold out. I heard that 110 people were in attendance.

The Parker Library proved to be a great spot for a play. There’s a natural stage just west of the circulation desk; and the Mainstreet area was perfect for the buffet.

The script came from Tom and Penny Warner, of Danville California, but was edited to include many local references and characters. And I do mean characters. Frank Yaeger (Parker Water and Sanitation District) was most impressive, in drag, as Ms. Page Turner. Debbie Lewis (Parker Town Council) was an utterly fetching and dramatic Alexa Dynasty, diva of the trashy mini-series. David Casiano (of the Cultural Commission, I believe) was Dell Doubleday, the brisk, big-city publisher. And Chip Stern (Town Council) was right out of the 60’s as the romantically challenged Dalton B. Walton, bookseller.

When author Miss Agatha Mystry (the Parker Chamber’s Mary Looney) staggered to her hilariously long, drawn-out death, investigative matters were attended to by Chief Sam Slayed (a correctly costumed Tom Cornelius of the Parker Police Dept.), with the befuddled assistance of Detective Blind Side and Sergeant Speed Trap, whose real names shall remain, mercifully, unreported.

Other folks included Parker Library Manager Patt Paul as Lotta Books (librarians just don’t dress like that anymore), Aden Hogan (Town Administrator) as the flag-waving Mr. Short Term, and David Aldridge (Town Council) as the cigar-chewing, fashion-disabled Mayor Ron Bonzo. They were all a delightful, if utterly suspect, lot.

I even had a small part myself as “Rocky,” Alexa’s lounge lizard fourth (fifth?) husband. I put almost $3.00 of greasy kid stuff into the act, and in my modest opinion, it was worth every penny.

The audience may not have been overwhelmed by our troop’s acting ability. They were, I hope, entertained.

The Celebration of Literature, funded in part by the Scientific and Cultural Facilities District, is clearly catching on. It’s a mystery to me how they can improve on this year’s activities.

But I bet they do.

February 19, 1997- Philip S. Miller Library Gets New Lighting

I’ve held a lot of odd jobs in my life. But I realize, looking back, that they have always had something in common. I have almost always worked in beautiful buildings.

One of my first jobs was in an architect’s office. I ran errands, did tracings, answered the phone, and ran prints around. I was fascinated by the process of designing buildings.

But, alas, I soon learned that I would never design them myself. Perry, my three-year-old son, can slap 24 piece puzzles together in just a few minutes. I still can’t.

Nonetheless, I recognize a good building when I see it. I probably wound up in libraries because so many of them are lovely places. I volunteered in the catwalked library of my youth. In college, I worked at a “modern” library, carpeted with a lovely rust, overshadowed by the heavy rust of the metal roof. Later, I worked in a university library, with interior stairs of marble, high ceilings, and two-story windows.

When I first interviewed for the director position in Douglas County, I was utterly captivated by the Philip S. Miller Library in Castle Rock.

As I pulled in to the parking lot, a train rolled by. In the quiet afterward, I could hear the wind through the tall grass. When I stepped inside, I thought, “This feels like a church.” It had such a high ceiling, with such warm, dark wood. The small, high, southwestern windows lent a sense of calm and detachment. The building has a kind of pristine elegance.

Some years back now, we remodeled the building, and to my mind, improved it, opening it up even further, clarifying the functions of its spaces.

I still love this jewel of a building, every day I work there.

Of course (like most buildings), it has its problems. It reverberates. Like a church, it is built to carry speech, not to swallow it. That’s annoying when you have come to study, come to read in peace, and the sound of children’s (and librarians) voices seems altogether brassy and intrusive.

But more bothersome to me is the fact that (at night in particular) the bookstacks are towering canyons of shadow. Holly Deni, the library’s manager, once suggested that we should issue our patrons miner’s hats, with built-in lanterns. I seriously considered it.

But thanks to the continuing generosity of Philip S. Miller, we’ve got a better solution. Over the next several weeks, we’ll be shuffling around our shelves, and pulling new wiring. Soon, our central area will have shelving of a more uniform height and hue. Shortly thereafter, we’ll have something called “Unistruts” -- suspended over every-other-one of our tall shelves.

Attached to the Unistruts will be lights, lights that instead of glaring uncertainly from 40 feet, will beam softly just above the center of each aisle, enabling those folks who (like me) angle their bifocals toward the call numbers with something approaching hope. Soon, this hope shall be rewarded.

The Philip S. Miller Library will continue to be a beautiful building. But thanks to Mr. Miller’s final bequest, you’ll be able to see it even better.