Some 20 years ago, my mother gave me my granddad's Hamilton watch. Back then, it wasn't quite my style: a square, gold face, small gold letters, a gold twisty band. This watch didn't even have a quartz. It was one of those old wind-ups, which I don't believe are even made in America any more.
But my mother knew how close I'd been to granddad -- one of the few genuinely wise men I have ever known.
It languished in my dresser drawer for two decades. Then, one day, I had two realizations. First, the face of the watch had some rust spots. There were some scratches on the crystal. I hadn't taken very good care of it.
Second, I was suddenly warmed by the knowledge that in a culture filled with so many disposable items, I still had something once worn, something used every day, by a man I met almost half a century ago, a man I still miss and admire.
So to surprise me, my wife had the watch refurbished. She replaced the twisty band with a burgundy leather band. And to my delight, I think this watch is now very classy. (This was also a very classy 16th anniversary gift, but that's the sort of woman my wife is.)
The second day I wore the watch, it suddenly stopped, and I had a moment of deep sadness. Then I remembered that it was a wind-up.
Now, every morning I spend the perhaps five seconds it takes to wind the spring. Five seconds to remember granddad, my mother, my wife. It's a small meditation that has become very important to me. And the watch keeps excellent time.
Modern times do offer many conveniences, of course. I'm not anti- progress. But there is an abiding pleasure in such small rituals, and perhaps a lesson. Sometimes, convenience distances us from things. The same mile feels very different if you drive it, bike it, or walk it.
Lately, I've been doing some investigating of "e-books" -- electronic versions of books. But granddad's watch reminds me why I got into the business of librarianship in the first place.
I like the way books smell. I like the way they feel -- from the subtle texture of the buckram binding, to the elegant curve of spine. I like the way good typefaces look on paper with some heft to them.
I've always assumed that carpenters become carpenters because they liked working with wood. I became a librarian because I liked working with books -- a matter not just of intellectual content, but of profound sensual involvement.
So the next time you wander into the library, pick up a book just because you like the look of it. Lean back into one of our comfy chairs and let yourself admire the book as artifact, as something made to give pleasure. You might find it a comforting change of pace to the blitz, glitz and glamor of computer generated imagery and digital sound.
Every time you turn a page, it's like winding a watch.
Wednesday, May 26, 1999
Wednesday, May 19, 1999
May 19, 1999 - adopting a dog
As a librarian, I should know better: You do your research BEFORE you make a big decision, not after.
In this case, the decision was a dog. Since being an adult, I'd had only cats. When Watson died (she was almost 20) it was very hard for me to think about any other kind of pet.
But in the past two years Maddy got to be 11. Perry is 5. My family buzzes around town a lot, but we're mostly homebodies. We've got a big, fenced yard. We were looking for a playful critter to hang out with us. Dogs are more interactive than cats, especially for kids.
A friend of ours volunteers for the Denver Dumb Friends League -- a rescue operation for all kinds of abandoned pets. He'd recently adopted a sweet-tempered and intelligent canine named Marlowe -- a poodle/Afghan, which is far more elegant-looking than you might imagine. (But what do you call them? Poofghans? Afghoodles?)
So we wandered in to the DDFL one day, looked at some fifty dogs, and visited with two of them. The second one was described as a "chow mix," although she looked exactly like a golden retriever. She had a dark blue tongue, though.
Perry was put off by the other dog we looked at. Too bouncy. But the chow mix was very submissive. Now I understand that she was TOO submissive.
To make a long story short, we soon discovered that Mimi (for so we named her) had some problems. Whenever a man walked into the house, she cowered. And to our great consternation, she turned out to be a "fear-biter." Just as someone turned AWAY from her, she'd dive and try to bite just above the ankle, at the back of the leg. She wound up biting two people, one of them a child.
I read widely about dog training. I talked to animal behaviorists, to shelter volunteers, and even to a Chow rescue society. In short, I did all of the research I SHOULD have done to begin with. It was a sad lesson.
Finally, we made the decision to put Mimi down. It was awful, especially since I insisted that I be there to hold her. She'd been abandoned often enough.
For awhile, we weren't sure we wanted to go through anything like that again. But all of us found that we'd liked having a dog around. Mimi learned to be very loving to us. The daily walks, the long weekend rambles were great, giving us all a chance not only to stretch our legs, but to talk to each other.
Too, the unreserved affection of dogs is a great gift.
So we decided to try again. But this time, we would be more thoughtful, more knowledgeable.
And guess what? We found that the Douglas Public Library District has a pretty good collection on the subject.
The single most effective tool I ran across was something "Dogs! Dogs! Dogs!" -- a video that showcased all the breeds recognized by the American Kennel Club. You can do a lot of reading about temperaments and trainability, but until you see how they look and move, it's all a little theoretical. This video helped us narrow down the options.
I can also recommend "Saved! -- a guide to success with your shelter dog," by Myrna Papurt. I liked Bob Christiansen's "Choosing and caring for a shelter dog."
I finally got focused on the prospect of adopting a greyhound. (See our "Adopting the racing greyhound," by Cynthia Branigan.) The fellow we wound up taking into our home, by the name of Jaaz Cagney, is a sort of 80 pound cat. He's sweet, soulful, and most gentile. He was located through the good graces of the Colorado Greyhound Adoption agency. If you're in the market for a greyhound, call them at 303.471.0554 or 303.617.9870.
I've since learned Cagney can hit about 40 miles an hour in just three steps. Until you see it, it's hard to believe. But he ran into our hearts even faster.
Here's the bottom line. Hundreds of thousands of dogs are put down every year. Most of these animals can make lovely companions. Why not open your hearts and homes to one of them?
But trust me, BEGIN your search at your local library.
In this case, the decision was a dog. Since being an adult, I'd had only cats. When Watson died (she was almost 20) it was very hard for me to think about any other kind of pet.
But in the past two years Maddy got to be 11. Perry is 5. My family buzzes around town a lot, but we're mostly homebodies. We've got a big, fenced yard. We were looking for a playful critter to hang out with us. Dogs are more interactive than cats, especially for kids.
A friend of ours volunteers for the Denver Dumb Friends League -- a rescue operation for all kinds of abandoned pets. He'd recently adopted a sweet-tempered and intelligent canine named Marlowe -- a poodle/Afghan, which is far more elegant-looking than you might imagine. (But what do you call them? Poofghans? Afghoodles?)
So we wandered in to the DDFL one day, looked at some fifty dogs, and visited with two of them. The second one was described as a "chow mix," although she looked exactly like a golden retriever. She had a dark blue tongue, though.
Perry was put off by the other dog we looked at. Too bouncy. But the chow mix was very submissive. Now I understand that she was TOO submissive.
To make a long story short, we soon discovered that Mimi (for so we named her) had some problems. Whenever a man walked into the house, she cowered. And to our great consternation, she turned out to be a "fear-biter." Just as someone turned AWAY from her, she'd dive and try to bite just above the ankle, at the back of the leg. She wound up biting two people, one of them a child.
I read widely about dog training. I talked to animal behaviorists, to shelter volunteers, and even to a Chow rescue society. In short, I did all of the research I SHOULD have done to begin with. It was a sad lesson.
Finally, we made the decision to put Mimi down. It was awful, especially since I insisted that I be there to hold her. She'd been abandoned often enough.
For awhile, we weren't sure we wanted to go through anything like that again. But all of us found that we'd liked having a dog around. Mimi learned to be very loving to us. The daily walks, the long weekend rambles were great, giving us all a chance not only to stretch our legs, but to talk to each other.
Too, the unreserved affection of dogs is a great gift.
So we decided to try again. But this time, we would be more thoughtful, more knowledgeable.
And guess what? We found that the Douglas Public Library District has a pretty good collection on the subject.
The single most effective tool I ran across was something "Dogs! Dogs! Dogs!" -- a video that showcased all the breeds recognized by the American Kennel Club. You can do a lot of reading about temperaments and trainability, but until you see how they look and move, it's all a little theoretical. This video helped us narrow down the options.
I can also recommend "Saved! -- a guide to success with your shelter dog," by Myrna Papurt. I liked Bob Christiansen's "Choosing and caring for a shelter dog."
I finally got focused on the prospect of adopting a greyhound. (See our "Adopting the racing greyhound," by Cynthia Branigan.) The fellow we wound up taking into our home, by the name of Jaaz Cagney, is a sort of 80 pound cat. He's sweet, soulful, and most gentile. He was located through the good graces of the Colorado Greyhound Adoption agency. If you're in the market for a greyhound, call them at 303.471.0554 or 303.617.9870.
I've since learned Cagney can hit about 40 miles an hour in just three steps. Until you see it, it's hard to believe. But he ran into our hearts even faster.
Here's the bottom line. Hundreds of thousands of dogs are put down every year. Most of these animals can make lovely companions. Why not open your hearts and homes to one of them?
But trust me, BEGIN your search at your local library.
Wednesday, May 12, 1999
May 12, 1999 - Community Theater
Like a lot of imaginative but inexperienced high school students, I was sure I'd make a great actor. So in my freshman year, I tried out for a play. It was "Wind in the Willows," and I read for the part of Toad -- the lead.
To my utter astonishment, I got it. Excited, I went to the first rehearsal, where I picked up my script and ran some of the lines.
At the second rehearsal, I destroyed my high school acting career.
In my own defense, I have to admit that I was a pretty emotionally repressed kid. So when I tried, up there on stage, to demonstrate some strong feelings, an internal barrier abruptly broke. Half way through that rehearsal, the director made a perfectly appropriate suggestion for how to do something. My response? I threw a tantrum. Then I tossed down my script, and stormed out of the theater. This was, for me, utterly "out of character."
It also had consequences. The next day, the director fired me. He also let me know that I wouldn't be getting any other acting chances in high school. Three years later, I did manage to slip into our high school a capella choir -- mostly because it was so desperate for boys. I played several very minor roles in the musicals we put on, I think with quiet distinction.
But that first experience stays with me. It's one of those hot, fresh memories that surfaces when I wake at 2 in the morning, along with a host of other occasions when I have provided to the world the clearest possible evidence that I am a jerk.
So this year, I decided that I was going to purge my past. I heard that the new community theater group, the Castle Rock Players, was auditioning for Fiddler on the Roof. I landed the role of Motel the Tailor, who was always one of my favorites. I'm pleased to report that I have yet to be fired.
Incidentally, Fiddler comes from "The Tevye Stories," written by Yiddish story-teller Sholom Aleichem, and are as poignant, funny, and moving now as when they were written. (Aleichem was a contemporary of Mark Twain.) The play was written by Joseph Stein. The music, of course, is by the incomparable song-writing team of Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock.
I have to say that attending rehearsals is almost as much fun as working in the library. Maybe more fun, because I am not the director of the play. Katie Klossner, who is the director, is a delight to watch. She's highly organized, capable of communicating clearly and often hilariously with actors of all ages. She also has a fierce and authoritative insight about how things ought to look and feel. Sam Sortore is equally gifted as the musical director -- he coaxes the most surprising performances out of even amateurs like me.
But everybody is good, from our somewhat befuddled rabbi (the character, not the actor) to the youngest singer and dancer. And our Tevye is enthralling.
One of the surprises to me, though, was the economic side of community theater. The costs for the script alone are $1,600 -- and you have to give them back at the end. To rent the performance space, combined with rehearsal time, will run another $4,000 or more. That doesn't include the costs for set constructions, marketing, and all the other things it takes to put on a show. All told, it takes about $10K to put on a show.
Recognize that there is no solid source of funding for the group -- just ticket sales (which come, obviously, at the end), and donations. To be frank, the continuance of community theater in Castle Rock is by no means certain.
Local theater is like a library in that it preserves and presents our past. But in theater, instead of just reading great works, people also struggle to bring them alive, often with a fresh interpretation that adds new depth and meaning. People also learn something about hard work, professionalism, and giving their best.
Fiddler will be showing at the Douglas County High School on June 3, 4, 5, and 6. Please consider reaching into your pocket to support this altogether worthwhile endeavor. The 90 members of the cast are already contributing not only their time, but in many cases, their own props, costumes, and cash. Please make your contributions payable to the Castle Rock Players, PO Box 1224, Castle Rock CO 80104.
And oh yes, enjoy the show. I know I will..
To my utter astonishment, I got it. Excited, I went to the first rehearsal, where I picked up my script and ran some of the lines.
At the second rehearsal, I destroyed my high school acting career.
In my own defense, I have to admit that I was a pretty emotionally repressed kid. So when I tried, up there on stage, to demonstrate some strong feelings, an internal barrier abruptly broke. Half way through that rehearsal, the director made a perfectly appropriate suggestion for how to do something. My response? I threw a tantrum. Then I tossed down my script, and stormed out of the theater. This was, for me, utterly "out of character."
It also had consequences. The next day, the director fired me. He also let me know that I wouldn't be getting any other acting chances in high school. Three years later, I did manage to slip into our high school a capella choir -- mostly because it was so desperate for boys. I played several very minor roles in the musicals we put on, I think with quiet distinction.
But that first experience stays with me. It's one of those hot, fresh memories that surfaces when I wake at 2 in the morning, along with a host of other occasions when I have provided to the world the clearest possible evidence that I am a jerk.
So this year, I decided that I was going to purge my past. I heard that the new community theater group, the Castle Rock Players, was auditioning for Fiddler on the Roof. I landed the role of Motel the Tailor, who was always one of my favorites. I'm pleased to report that I have yet to be fired.
Incidentally, Fiddler comes from "The Tevye Stories," written by Yiddish story-teller Sholom Aleichem, and are as poignant, funny, and moving now as when they were written. (Aleichem was a contemporary of Mark Twain.) The play was written by Joseph Stein. The music, of course, is by the incomparable song-writing team of Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock.
I have to say that attending rehearsals is almost as much fun as working in the library. Maybe more fun, because I am not the director of the play. Katie Klossner, who is the director, is a delight to watch. She's highly organized, capable of communicating clearly and often hilariously with actors of all ages. She also has a fierce and authoritative insight about how things ought to look and feel. Sam Sortore is equally gifted as the musical director -- he coaxes the most surprising performances out of even amateurs like me.
But everybody is good, from our somewhat befuddled rabbi (the character, not the actor) to the youngest singer and dancer. And our Tevye is enthralling.
One of the surprises to me, though, was the economic side of community theater. The costs for the script alone are $1,600 -- and you have to give them back at the end. To rent the performance space, combined with rehearsal time, will run another $4,000 or more. That doesn't include the costs for set constructions, marketing, and all the other things it takes to put on a show. All told, it takes about $10K to put on a show.
Recognize that there is no solid source of funding for the group -- just ticket sales (which come, obviously, at the end), and donations. To be frank, the continuance of community theater in Castle Rock is by no means certain.
Local theater is like a library in that it preserves and presents our past. But in theater, instead of just reading great works, people also struggle to bring them alive, often with a fresh interpretation that adds new depth and meaning. People also learn something about hard work, professionalism, and giving their best.
Fiddler will be showing at the Douglas County High School on June 3, 4, 5, and 6. Please consider reaching into your pocket to support this altogether worthwhile endeavor. The 90 members of the cast are already contributing not only their time, but in many cases, their own props, costumes, and cash. Please make your contributions payable to the Castle Rock Players, PO Box 1224, Castle Rock CO 80104.
And oh yes, enjoy the show. I know I will..
Wednesday, May 5, 1999
May 5, 1999 - The Cherokee Trail
Among our most popular programs for adults are the ones put on by Johanna Harden, the library district's Local History Collection Archivist. Her "Second Sunday" series of historical programs has developed a strong following.
As well they should. Our speakers are always interesting, and the topics illuminating. In people, an interest in the past is one of the leading indicators of maturity. The same is true when a community looks to its history.
It happens that May 8 through May 16 is Colorado Archaeology and Historic Preservation Week. This year, three events have been planned.
On Sunday, May 16, Historian Lee Whiteley will present a program on "The Cherokee Trail: A Forgotten Byway." The location is the Parker Library -- which is appropriate, since the trail actually ran through the existing library site. After Whiteley's presentation, local professional storytellers John Stansfield and Priscilla Queen will bring to life some of the characters who traveled the Cherokee Trail.
A second event marks the Local History Collection's continuing involvement with Douglas County Television Channel 8. It was 125 years ago that the eastern boundary of Douglas County was pulled back from Kansas. The same year, Castle Rock became the county seat, wresting the title from what was then known as Frankstown.
The Channel 8 folks, with the able assistance of our Local History Department, are producing a special television program to examine Douglas County's status as one of Colorado's 17 original counties.
Mixed in with the tale of the county's trimming, viewers will also have a chance to set to rest the longstanding "myth of the moving courthouse." Locals Bill Duncan, son of long-time Douglas County Commissioner "Doc" Duncan, and William Kirby portray David Kellogg and friend in the TV reenactment of the naming of "Castle Rock."
And if you don't have cable (which is necessary to receive Channel 8)? Not to worry. You can catch the production at the Philip S. Miller Library at 4 p.m., Monday, May 10, or at the Parker Library on Friday, May 14, at 2 p.m.
An additional historical event on the day will be sponsored by the Castle Rock Historic Preservation Board, the Town of Castle Rock and the Castle Rock Historical Society. It's called the Walking Tour and Ice Cream Social. Beginning on Saturday, May 15, at 10 a.m. at the Cantril School Building in Castle Rock, the tour will focus on local efforts to preserve 14 historic structures in Castle Rock. It wraps up at the Castle Rock Museum on Elbert Street.
Add it all up, and you've got a week to remember.
As well they should. Our speakers are always interesting, and the topics illuminating. In people, an interest in the past is one of the leading indicators of maturity. The same is true when a community looks to its history.
It happens that May 8 through May 16 is Colorado Archaeology and Historic Preservation Week. This year, three events have been planned.
On Sunday, May 16, Historian Lee Whiteley will present a program on "The Cherokee Trail: A Forgotten Byway." The location is the Parker Library -- which is appropriate, since the trail actually ran through the existing library site. After Whiteley's presentation, local professional storytellers John Stansfield and Priscilla Queen will bring to life some of the characters who traveled the Cherokee Trail.
A second event marks the Local History Collection's continuing involvement with Douglas County Television Channel 8. It was 125 years ago that the eastern boundary of Douglas County was pulled back from Kansas. The same year, Castle Rock became the county seat, wresting the title from what was then known as Frankstown.
The Channel 8 folks, with the able assistance of our Local History Department, are producing a special television program to examine Douglas County's status as one of Colorado's 17 original counties.
Mixed in with the tale of the county's trimming, viewers will also have a chance to set to rest the longstanding "myth of the moving courthouse." Locals Bill Duncan, son of long-time Douglas County Commissioner "Doc" Duncan, and William Kirby portray David Kellogg and friend in the TV reenactment of the naming of "Castle Rock."
And if you don't have cable (which is necessary to receive Channel 8)? Not to worry. You can catch the production at the Philip S. Miller Library at 4 p.m., Monday, May 10, or at the Parker Library on Friday, May 14, at 2 p.m.
An additional historical event on the day will be sponsored by the Castle Rock Historic Preservation Board, the Town of Castle Rock and the Castle Rock Historical Society. It's called the Walking Tour and Ice Cream Social. Beginning on Saturday, May 15, at 10 a.m. at the Cantril School Building in Castle Rock, the tour will focus on local efforts to preserve 14 historic structures in Castle Rock. It wraps up at the Castle Rock Museum on Elbert Street.
Add it all up, and you've got a week to remember.
Wednesday, April 28, 1999
April 28, 1999 - Columbine
Last night over dinner, a friend noted an irony in the Columbine tragedy. "Everyone responded with a call to prayer. Yet the one place you couldn't pray was school."
Others put their faith in statistics. Nationwide (according to the Denver Post), roughly 250 people have died as a result of school-associated violence since 1992. Until Columbine, the most people to die in a single incident was 5, in Jonesboro, Arkansas.
By contrast, according to a recent National Vital Statistics Report, in 1997 alone almost 2,000 children between the ages of 5 and 14 died in motor vehicle accidents. In the same year, 345 children died through homicide -- most often, and most startlingly, by people they knew, either at home, or in their immediate communities. Guess how many children died by their own hand in this age group -- 313.
Between the ages of 15-24, deaths by homicide were a staggering 5,793. By suicide, over 4,000 died. That's in a single year.
So by contrast, schools are relatively safe.
Overall, the evidence suggests that we don't do as well by our children as we should. But that problem reaches far beyond school walls.
In times of trouble, people look for causes. So the pundits trot out all the usual suspects. Guns were either too easy (for the children), or too difficult (for teachers), to come by. Hollywood action movies and shoot-'em-up video games have established a uniquely American culture of violence. The Internet, and even the local library, provides access to too much dangerous information. School officials failed to protect the innocent from bullying, or alienation, or smuggled weapons. Parents never noticed that their children were building pipe bombs in the garage.
But most Americans who have guns or watch action films don't become murderers. Any information is dangerous to someone who intends to use it dangerously. Schools are institutions of learning, not prison camps or psychiatric wards. And even the most caring parents miss things, make mistakes, and for their blindness and errors have their hearts torn from their breasts.
Here's what I believe: accidents happen. The students and teachers who died at Columbine, all the victims, had the soul- rending misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were not to blame.
But I also believe something I have yet to hear anyone else say about this black mark in our nation's history. Beneath the desperate quest for an explanation for Columbine lies a simple truth: two young men decided to kill.
Choice, free will: it lies behind the greatest evil and the greatest good in the world. We must remember that for every horror, every act of cruelty one human chooses to commit on another, there are countless, counterbalancing acts of kindness and compassion. That's why -- and how -- our species survives.
Sometimes we have no control over what happens to us. We do have control over how we choose to respond.
My own choices in the wake of Columbine are threefold: first, I'm going to send a donation to the Littleton Jaycees, who are sponsoring an UnDinner to benefit the Columbine High School Library. There is no event to attend, but the $10 donation will be used to help replace items in the library, the locus for much of the carnage on April 20. (Send your donation to Columbine High Library Fund, c/o the Littleton Jaycees, P.O. Box 1008, Littleton 80160-1008.)
Second, our library district will proceed with its plans to hold a groundbreaking for our new Highlands Ranch Library, on Saturday, May 1, 10 a.m., at the new library site. The right response to acts of destruction is to celebrate our choice to build.
Third, like many parents in Douglas County and around the globe, I will be holding my children a little closer for a long time to come.
Others put their faith in statistics. Nationwide (according to the Denver Post), roughly 250 people have died as a result of school-associated violence since 1992. Until Columbine, the most people to die in a single incident was 5, in Jonesboro, Arkansas.
By contrast, according to a recent National Vital Statistics Report, in 1997 alone almost 2,000 children between the ages of 5 and 14 died in motor vehicle accidents. In the same year, 345 children died through homicide -- most often, and most startlingly, by people they knew, either at home, or in their immediate communities. Guess how many children died by their own hand in this age group -- 313.
Between the ages of 15-24, deaths by homicide were a staggering 5,793. By suicide, over 4,000 died. That's in a single year.
So by contrast, schools are relatively safe.
Overall, the evidence suggests that we don't do as well by our children as we should. But that problem reaches far beyond school walls.
In times of trouble, people look for causes. So the pundits trot out all the usual suspects. Guns were either too easy (for the children), or too difficult (for teachers), to come by. Hollywood action movies and shoot-'em-up video games have established a uniquely American culture of violence. The Internet, and even the local library, provides access to too much dangerous information. School officials failed to protect the innocent from bullying, or alienation, or smuggled weapons. Parents never noticed that their children were building pipe bombs in the garage.
But most Americans who have guns or watch action films don't become murderers. Any information is dangerous to someone who intends to use it dangerously. Schools are institutions of learning, not prison camps or psychiatric wards. And even the most caring parents miss things, make mistakes, and for their blindness and errors have their hearts torn from their breasts.
Here's what I believe: accidents happen. The students and teachers who died at Columbine, all the victims, had the soul- rending misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were not to blame.
But I also believe something I have yet to hear anyone else say about this black mark in our nation's history. Beneath the desperate quest for an explanation for Columbine lies a simple truth: two young men decided to kill.
Choice, free will: it lies behind the greatest evil and the greatest good in the world. We must remember that for every horror, every act of cruelty one human chooses to commit on another, there are countless, counterbalancing acts of kindness and compassion. That's why -- and how -- our species survives.
Sometimes we have no control over what happens to us. We do have control over how we choose to respond.
My own choices in the wake of Columbine are threefold: first, I'm going to send a donation to the Littleton Jaycees, who are sponsoring an UnDinner to benefit the Columbine High School Library. There is no event to attend, but the $10 donation will be used to help replace items in the library, the locus for much of the carnage on April 20. (Send your donation to Columbine High Library Fund, c/o the Littleton Jaycees, P.O. Box 1008, Littleton 80160-1008.)
Second, our library district will proceed with its plans to hold a groundbreaking for our new Highlands Ranch Library, on Saturday, May 1, 10 a.m., at the new library site. The right response to acts of destruction is to celebrate our choice to build.
Third, like many parents in Douglas County and around the globe, I will be holding my children a little closer for a long time to come.
Wednesday, April 21, 1999
April 21, 1999 - DebtCollect
Once I caught a Seinfeld monologue about librarians. The gag was that we're like a kid who keeps letting you borrow his stuff just so you'll like him. It all sounds a little pathetic.
There's some truth to it. We quite consciously hire people who hate to make patrons unhappy. So we take the extra step, and try to find a way to make people walk out of the library with a smile on their faces.
But I have decided that there's one area where we're just going to have to get tough.
Most of the books we check out come back right when they're supposed to. Of all the ones that don't, the first overdue notice (when your items are exactly one week past the date you were supposed to return them) fetches back half of them. The second notice (one more week later) again brings back half of what's still out. The third notice brings back another half-of-a-half-of-a-half. Finally, when an item has been overdue for a month, we send out a bill for the cost of the item.
And this is precisely where we used to be pathetic. Sure, you couldn't check out anything else until you settled up, but some tiny fraction of our patrons never came back at all. They just kept our books.
Well, those days are over. Starting very soon now, once you owe us $50 -- and that $50 must include an item you never returned, not just fines -- we will pass your account along to a collection agency. They will send you another couple of notices, and if there's STILL no response, well, the value of those library books will be showing up on your credit record.
Once you get a letter from the collection agency, even if you bring the books back, you'll not only need to pay overdue fines, but a $10 processing charge. That $10 covers our costs for the collection agency.
Let me stress again that our concern is not to humiliate anyone, or to hassle people about their credit rating. We just want our stuff back. To be perfectly blunt about it, taking library books is theft. After getting four notices from us, and a sprinkling of notices from the collection agency, there's really no excuse for not bringing our books back. Or if there ARE extenuating circumstances, it's still your obligation to call and talk to us. We're not unreasonable people, and weird things do happen to our patrons from time to time. But we take our stewardship of public property very seriously.
Based on an analysis I did a while back, we lose some $12,000 of materials every year to patrons who check out materials and keep them. These people are not our regular customers. Frankly, I don't have much sympathy for them. They steal precisely the books and tapes that are most popular. It takes time and money to replace those items.
So we've come full circle. We're still wonderful friends. We'll welcome your children as our own, and delight them with stories. We'll smile every time we see you, and work hard to answer even your wildest or most frivolous questions. More to the point, we'll lend you some of the best stuff in the world, over and over, things you could never afford to buy on your own.
But bring it all back, hear?
There's some truth to it. We quite consciously hire people who hate to make patrons unhappy. So we take the extra step, and try to find a way to make people walk out of the library with a smile on their faces.
But I have decided that there's one area where we're just going to have to get tough.
Most of the books we check out come back right when they're supposed to. Of all the ones that don't, the first overdue notice (when your items are exactly one week past the date you were supposed to return them) fetches back half of them. The second notice (one more week later) again brings back half of what's still out. The third notice brings back another half-of-a-half-of-a-half. Finally, when an item has been overdue for a month, we send out a bill for the cost of the item.
And this is precisely where we used to be pathetic. Sure, you couldn't check out anything else until you settled up, but some tiny fraction of our patrons never came back at all. They just kept our books.
Well, those days are over. Starting very soon now, once you owe us $50 -- and that $50 must include an item you never returned, not just fines -- we will pass your account along to a collection agency. They will send you another couple of notices, and if there's STILL no response, well, the value of those library books will be showing up on your credit record.
Once you get a letter from the collection agency, even if you bring the books back, you'll not only need to pay overdue fines, but a $10 processing charge. That $10 covers our costs for the collection agency.
Let me stress again that our concern is not to humiliate anyone, or to hassle people about their credit rating. We just want our stuff back. To be perfectly blunt about it, taking library books is theft. After getting four notices from us, and a sprinkling of notices from the collection agency, there's really no excuse for not bringing our books back. Or if there ARE extenuating circumstances, it's still your obligation to call and talk to us. We're not unreasonable people, and weird things do happen to our patrons from time to time. But we take our stewardship of public property very seriously.
Based on an analysis I did a while back, we lose some $12,000 of materials every year to patrons who check out materials and keep them. These people are not our regular customers. Frankly, I don't have much sympathy for them. They steal precisely the books and tapes that are most popular. It takes time and money to replace those items.
So we've come full circle. We're still wonderful friends. We'll welcome your children as our own, and delight them with stories. We'll smile every time we see you, and work hard to answer even your wildest or most frivolous questions. More to the point, we'll lend you some of the best stuff in the world, over and over, things you could never afford to buy on your own.
But bring it all back, hear?
Wednesday, April 14, 1999
April 14, 1999 - National Holocaust Awareness Week
This week happens to be both National Library Week and National Holocaust Awareness Week. At first blush, there wouldn't appear to be much in common between them.
But I have a picture from May 10, 1933. A "brown shirt" (Nazi) is throwing an armful of "un-German" books onto a bonfire. The place: Berlin.
In January of the same year, Adolf Hitler had been named Chancellor of Germany, the most powerful position in the government. The aging President Hindenburg hoped Hitler would lead the nation out of its grave political and economic crisis.
But among Hitler's first acts was to convince the cabinet to invoke emergency clauses of the Constitution allowing suspension of individual freedoms of the press, speech, and assembly.
Also in 1933, new German laws forced Jews -- who comprised less than one percent of the total national population -- to quit civil service jobs, university and law court positions, and many other positions of public service. Five years later, in November of 1938, Jewish synagogues, homes, and shops were destroyed and many Jews arrested and murdered, in what the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum describes as "a centrally organized riot" or pogrom. Today we remember it as "Kristallnacht" -- the Night of Broken Glass.
Additional targets of Nazi persecution were the Roma (Gypsies), homosexuals, Jehovah's Witnesses, the Poles, and the handicapped.
Then came the concentration camps -- six central sites. The death toll at each was as follows: Chelmno - 150,000 deaths. Belzec - 600,000. Sobidor - 200,000. Treblinka - 750,000. Majdanek - 275,000. Auschwitz-Birkenau - more than 1.25 million.
We must never forget such horrors. And librarians will never forget that it all began with book-burning.
Just fifty years later, a radical group of neo-Nazis began claiming that the Holocaust never happened, a monstrous lie. But the only way to drive out bad information is through the production of, and access to, contrary evidence. Such evidence resides -- in incontrovertible detail -- in libraries.
Usually, librarians focus on the positive side of our profession: our focus on childhood and adult literacy, our position as a public gathering place and a quiet sanctuary in a culture dedicated to the frenzy of consumer consumption.
But one of our most important roles is often uncomfortable. We are the repository of human memory. That memory includes much that is nightmarish.
In recent years, libraries have come under fire for documents the American Library Association has adopted to guide its members: mainly the Freedom to Read Statement, the Freedom to View Statement, and the Equal Access to Minors Statement. In these increasingly conservative times, many believe that libraries should "protect" children. But children don't need to be protected from ideas. They need ideas to protect themselves. The same is true for adults.
While it sounds almost un-American to say so, consensus doesn't have anything to do with truth. To put it another way, just because we all agree with each other, doesn't mean we're right. There was a time when everyone agreed that the earth was flat. People who disagreed were tortured and even killed for their heresy. There was a time when a whole nation permitted the virtual extermination of Jews within its borders.
Libraries stand at the other end of the Inquisition, the other side of the fear-mongering of the Nazis. We not only permit intellectual curiosity, we actively encourage it. Even when such a role is not popular, it is nonetheless altogether proper for us.
The fundamental dignity of individual inquiry is the whole meaning of the public library. If we don't stand for that, we stand for nothing.
But I have a picture from May 10, 1933. A "brown shirt" (Nazi) is throwing an armful of "un-German" books onto a bonfire. The place: Berlin.
In January of the same year, Adolf Hitler had been named Chancellor of Germany, the most powerful position in the government. The aging President Hindenburg hoped Hitler would lead the nation out of its grave political and economic crisis.
But among Hitler's first acts was to convince the cabinet to invoke emergency clauses of the Constitution allowing suspension of individual freedoms of the press, speech, and assembly.
Also in 1933, new German laws forced Jews -- who comprised less than one percent of the total national population -- to quit civil service jobs, university and law court positions, and many other positions of public service. Five years later, in November of 1938, Jewish synagogues, homes, and shops were destroyed and many Jews arrested and murdered, in what the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum describes as "a centrally organized riot" or pogrom. Today we remember it as "Kristallnacht" -- the Night of Broken Glass.
Additional targets of Nazi persecution were the Roma (Gypsies), homosexuals, Jehovah's Witnesses, the Poles, and the handicapped.
Then came the concentration camps -- six central sites. The death toll at each was as follows: Chelmno - 150,000 deaths. Belzec - 600,000. Sobidor - 200,000. Treblinka - 750,000. Majdanek - 275,000. Auschwitz-Birkenau - more than 1.25 million.
We must never forget such horrors. And librarians will never forget that it all began with book-burning.
Just fifty years later, a radical group of neo-Nazis began claiming that the Holocaust never happened, a monstrous lie. But the only way to drive out bad information is through the production of, and access to, contrary evidence. Such evidence resides -- in incontrovertible detail -- in libraries.
Usually, librarians focus on the positive side of our profession: our focus on childhood and adult literacy, our position as a public gathering place and a quiet sanctuary in a culture dedicated to the frenzy of consumer consumption.
But one of our most important roles is often uncomfortable. We are the repository of human memory. That memory includes much that is nightmarish.
In recent years, libraries have come under fire for documents the American Library Association has adopted to guide its members: mainly the Freedom to Read Statement, the Freedom to View Statement, and the Equal Access to Minors Statement. In these increasingly conservative times, many believe that libraries should "protect" children. But children don't need to be protected from ideas. They need ideas to protect themselves. The same is true for adults.
While it sounds almost un-American to say so, consensus doesn't have anything to do with truth. To put it another way, just because we all agree with each other, doesn't mean we're right. There was a time when everyone agreed that the earth was flat. People who disagreed were tortured and even killed for their heresy. There was a time when a whole nation permitted the virtual extermination of Jews within its borders.
Libraries stand at the other end of the Inquisition, the other side of the fear-mongering of the Nazis. We not only permit intellectual curiosity, we actively encourage it. Even when such a role is not popular, it is nonetheless altogether proper for us.
The fundamental dignity of individual inquiry is the whole meaning of the public library. If we don't stand for that, we stand for nothing.
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