For the past several years, I've been reprinting what I've come to think of as "my Christmas column" -- a tradition. I hope you enjoy it.
***
What we really need is an all-purpose gift that will satisfy everybody. It should be suitable for all ages. It should require no assembly. It shouldn't need batteries. You shouldn't have to feed it. It should last forever. It should be constantly entertaining. The more the recipient uses it, the more he or she should like it.
And of course, it should be free.
No such animal, right? Wrong. I'm talking about a library card.
I'll never understand it. Most adults these days carry cards of every description; most of them DON'T have library cards. So for the woman or man who has everything, why not offer everything else? -- access to the total accumulated knowledge of the human race, not to mention the most wonderful stories ever told.
Of course, the real winner of a gift like this is not an adult. It's a child.
Here's all you have to do to make your holidays a success. First, come down to the library and fill out a library card application for your child. Then, check out three of four books. Wrap the card and the books and set them under the tree. Save this very special package for last.
When the child rips it open, say that this unassuming little card will let him or her get presents all year long. Then read your child to sleep that night with one of the books.
After your children have gotten bored with all their expensive toys, read them (or have them read) the other books, then trot them down to the library in that slow week after the main event. Teach your children about exchanging one present for another.
At the library, every day is Christmas. Behind every book cover there are riches. After introducing your kids to a treasure trove beyond Aladdin's wildest dreams, why not mosey over to the adult section, and browse through the latest offerings yourself? You know you deserve it.
Many people -- librarians, teachers, Secretaries of Education, even sport celebrities and actors -- have urged every child to obtain and use a library card. It's good advice.
Besides, at prices like these, who can argue? If you are not fully satisfied after a lifetime of learning and pleasure -- I'll cheerfully refund your money.
Trust me, this could be the best Christmas card you'll ever send.
---
Note: All Douglas County libraries will be closed from 3 p.m., Saturday, December 24, to 9 a.m., Monday, December 26.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
December 15, 2005 - cultivate an inner life
There are many things parents would agree they want for their children. Health. Love. Family and friends. Success, defined as "a respectable job that pays well enough to provide all of the essentials, and some of the luxuries, of life."
But you know what I most want for each of my kids? I want them to have a rich inner life.
You can lose your health, your lover, even your family and friends. You can lose your job and your home. In disasters, you can lose your ability to put food on the table.
But all of that is your OUTER life. If you have a rich inner life, you can get by. (At least, long enough to start rebuilding.)
I've been reading a luminous little library book lately called "Seeds from a Birch Tree," by Clark Strand. It's supposed topic is writing haiku (high-KOO)-- a Japanese verse form with rules so simple a child could follow them.
Haiku has 17 syllables: 5 on the first line, 7 on the second, and 5 on the third. The poem includes a seasonal reference. That's just about it.
And in fact children DO write haiku, often very good ones.
But what the book is really about is cultivating a consciousness, a plain and simple awareness that, first, marks something in the world. A raindrop. A tree branch. A window blind.
Second, the act of seeing, and capturing an image in haiku, also takes you out of yourself. Or maybe a better way to say this is that it completely removes the barrier between your deepest self and that moment of perception.
There are lots of things I'm grateful for in my life. But one of my favorites is a poem I wrote over 30 years ago.
I was hitchhiking through Safford, Arizona. I walked far from the road to get closer to a spectacular meadow, a sea of orange and yellow flowers.
When I got to the edge, I dropped to my knees to examine the petals.
And then I heard, low and pervasive, miles of ... buzzing.
Here's the poem (and I just want to point out that I shaved a few syllables off every single line, making it a kind of haiku espresso):
desert poppies:
I kneel to a field
of bees
That moment is ineradicable in my life. It is grounded in a single instant. Yet it is also timeless.
But my point isn't poetry. It's about storing up treasures that endure.
Children who grow up reading, or being read to, develop a set of internal experiences, based on symbols and dreams and language. Those stories and characters and situations work deeper and deeper into their consciousness.
Over time, this deepening understanding of life, coupled with fresh insights and new, unexpected encounters with the real world, makes up an always richer field of possibility, of insight, of connection, of beauty, of joy.
It's just one of the reasons that I no longer turn on a radio when I'm alone. It's why I don't watch TV shows anymore, at all.
It's why I can be utterly content, even very, very busy, even when I'm just walking around the block.
It's because reading, watching, listening, thinking, has now set up such a never-ending flood of images, and ideas, and webs of relationships among all that, that I now have an inner life, impervious or at least resistant to the pressures of the mob. Every child should have one.
On the outside, it's like a field of desert poppies. On the inside, like bees.
But you know what I most want for each of my kids? I want them to have a rich inner life.
You can lose your health, your lover, even your family and friends. You can lose your job and your home. In disasters, you can lose your ability to put food on the table.
But all of that is your OUTER life. If you have a rich inner life, you can get by. (At least, long enough to start rebuilding.)
I've been reading a luminous little library book lately called "Seeds from a Birch Tree," by Clark Strand. It's supposed topic is writing haiku (high-KOO)-- a Japanese verse form with rules so simple a child could follow them.
Haiku has 17 syllables: 5 on the first line, 7 on the second, and 5 on the third. The poem includes a seasonal reference. That's just about it.
And in fact children DO write haiku, often very good ones.
But what the book is really about is cultivating a consciousness, a plain and simple awareness that, first, marks something in the world. A raindrop. A tree branch. A window blind.
Second, the act of seeing, and capturing an image in haiku, also takes you out of yourself. Or maybe a better way to say this is that it completely removes the barrier between your deepest self and that moment of perception.
There are lots of things I'm grateful for in my life. But one of my favorites is a poem I wrote over 30 years ago.
I was hitchhiking through Safford, Arizona. I walked far from the road to get closer to a spectacular meadow, a sea of orange and yellow flowers.
When I got to the edge, I dropped to my knees to examine the petals.
And then I heard, low and pervasive, miles of ... buzzing.
Here's the poem (and I just want to point out that I shaved a few syllables off every single line, making it a kind of haiku espresso):
desert poppies:
I kneel to a field
of bees
That moment is ineradicable in my life. It is grounded in a single instant. Yet it is also timeless.
But my point isn't poetry. It's about storing up treasures that endure.
Children who grow up reading, or being read to, develop a set of internal experiences, based on symbols and dreams and language. Those stories and characters and situations work deeper and deeper into their consciousness.
Over time, this deepening understanding of life, coupled with fresh insights and new, unexpected encounters with the real world, makes up an always richer field of possibility, of insight, of connection, of beauty, of joy.
It's just one of the reasons that I no longer turn on a radio when I'm alone. It's why I don't watch TV shows anymore, at all.
It's why I can be utterly content, even very, very busy, even when I'm just walking around the block.
It's because reading, watching, listening, thinking, has now set up such a never-ending flood of images, and ideas, and webs of relationships among all that, that I now have an inner life, impervious or at least resistant to the pressures of the mob. Every child should have one.
On the outside, it's like a field of desert poppies. On the inside, like bees.
Thursday, December 8, 2005
December 8, 2005 - torture: from the dark ages to today
Sometimes you stumble across a book you didn't know you were looking for. For me, it was finding the library's copy of "The History of Torture and Execution," by Jean Kellaway.
Every time I come across the story of somebody stretched on the rack -- or wedged into the Spanish boot, or broken by thumbscrews, or victimized by any of a variety of infernal devices -- I feel an immediate sense both of horror and of recognition.
Maybe it's because so many of the people I read about as a child were scientists, and were often subjected to punishment for "heresy" -- the crime of not agreeing with powerful people.
It didn't make any difference, of course, that the scientists were doing no more than recording actual observations and making obvious inferences about the real world. It didn't make any difference that what they were saying was true.
What mattered was that somebody in a position of authority was given the right to force confessions, coerce the "recanting" of some belief, or brutally extract the names of others to be tortured.
Inevitably, such permission turned into the gruesome and ghastly abuse of power. History is littered with the maddened, mangled, or murdered remains of innocent people.
The irony is that things secured through torture are unreliable. People will say anything to get the pain to stop. They confess to things they never did. They promise to change their minds or hearts, but (assuming they manage to get away) don't.
And they carry a lifelong hatred of the people who bound and injured them.
So if torture is not a reliable instrument of securing either information or long term behavioral change, why does it persist?
Because it's not about any of those things. It's about power. It's about control. It's about corruption.
I have read stories about torture in modern day dictatorships, or oppressive regimes. But like most people, I associate torture with the ignorance and depravity of the Dark Ages.
So I was deeply alarmed, back in 2002, when the CIA floated a "trial balloon," carried by many national newspapers, to find out how the nation felt about torture, post 9/11. The reassuringly swift flurry of public astonishment led to a lot of government back-pedaling.
Except, we now find, there was an August 2002 memo from the Justice Department suggesting that President Bush had the authority to override international torture laws.
More recently, Senator John McCain introduced a bill to Congress explicitly banning torture. It carried by a vote of 90-9. McCain is both a former prisoner of war, and a torture victim.
Incredibly, according to the Denver Post, "Vice President Dick Cheney has tried to persuade Congress to exempt the CIA from the proposed ban, and Bush has threatened a veto if the ban is included in the bill."
I was shocked that the Vice-President of the United States wants the option to use torture, and would say so right out in public. President Bush, who said, "the U.S. does not torture," nonetheless wants the right to.
It makes you wonder. Are they seeking permission -- or forgiveness?
Of course, nine Army reservists were convicted of abusing prisoners at Abu Ghraib. Other "suspects" have died during "questioning" by American soldiers, as has been widely reported. There are now rumors of secret prisons in Eastern Europe, run by the CIA.
Let me put that another way: the U.S. does torture. We still don't know the full extent.
There are apologists for our Empire, who first recite the atrocities of criminals, then suggest that torture is too good for them.
But this is the fact that is always obscured: there is no way to ensure that torture will be used only against the guilty.
Shall we now we resurrect the foot press, the tongue tearer, the Spanish Spider, the revolving drum, and the Iron Maiden?
And on whom shall we use them next?
Every time I come across the story of somebody stretched on the rack -- or wedged into the Spanish boot, or broken by thumbscrews, or victimized by any of a variety of infernal devices -- I feel an immediate sense both of horror and of recognition.
Maybe it's because so many of the people I read about as a child were scientists, and were often subjected to punishment for "heresy" -- the crime of not agreeing with powerful people.
It didn't make any difference, of course, that the scientists were doing no more than recording actual observations and making obvious inferences about the real world. It didn't make any difference that what they were saying was true.
What mattered was that somebody in a position of authority was given the right to force confessions, coerce the "recanting" of some belief, or brutally extract the names of others to be tortured.
Inevitably, such permission turned into the gruesome and ghastly abuse of power. History is littered with the maddened, mangled, or murdered remains of innocent people.
The irony is that things secured through torture are unreliable. People will say anything to get the pain to stop. They confess to things they never did. They promise to change their minds or hearts, but (assuming they manage to get away) don't.
And they carry a lifelong hatred of the people who bound and injured them.
So if torture is not a reliable instrument of securing either information or long term behavioral change, why does it persist?
Because it's not about any of those things. It's about power. It's about control. It's about corruption.
I have read stories about torture in modern day dictatorships, or oppressive regimes. But like most people, I associate torture with the ignorance and depravity of the Dark Ages.
So I was deeply alarmed, back in 2002, when the CIA floated a "trial balloon," carried by many national newspapers, to find out how the nation felt about torture, post 9/11. The reassuringly swift flurry of public astonishment led to a lot of government back-pedaling.
Except, we now find, there was an August 2002 memo from the Justice Department suggesting that President Bush had the authority to override international torture laws.
More recently, Senator John McCain introduced a bill to Congress explicitly banning torture. It carried by a vote of 90-9. McCain is both a former prisoner of war, and a torture victim.
Incredibly, according to the Denver Post, "Vice President Dick Cheney has tried to persuade Congress to exempt the CIA from the proposed ban, and Bush has threatened a veto if the ban is included in the bill."
I was shocked that the Vice-President of the United States wants the option to use torture, and would say so right out in public. President Bush, who said, "the U.S. does not torture," nonetheless wants the right to.
It makes you wonder. Are they seeking permission -- or forgiveness?
Of course, nine Army reservists were convicted of abusing prisoners at Abu Ghraib. Other "suspects" have died during "questioning" by American soldiers, as has been widely reported. There are now rumors of secret prisons in Eastern Europe, run by the CIA.
Let me put that another way: the U.S. does torture. We still don't know the full extent.
There are apologists for our Empire, who first recite the atrocities of criminals, then suggest that torture is too good for them.
But this is the fact that is always obscured: there is no way to ensure that torture will be used only against the guilty.
Shall we now we resurrect the foot press, the tongue tearer, the Spanish Spider, the revolving drum, and the Iron Maiden?
And on whom shall we use them next?
Thursday, December 1, 2005
December 1, 2005 - Wal-Mart suffers blistering criticism
After college, I sold shoes for awhile. I was good at it, too. I broke some regional sales records, and got offered a manager position.
But I was young and restless, and really didn't want a career in a shopping mall. So I hit the road with a pair of shoes I sold myself.
And those shoes gave me blisters so bad that by the time I got to my uncle's in the Arkansas Ozarks, I could barely walk.
So my aunt took me to a big new store that had just opened up in Fayetteville. I'd never heard of it, but my aunt said the prices were great.
It was called Wal-Mart.
I did indeed find a pair of good, cheap sneakers there. I wore them, very comfortably, the whole time I worked as "mud man" (cement mixer) for my uncle, a stone mason.
For most of my kinfolk, Wal-Mart was a godsend. It offered a lot of things that weren't to be found within an hour's drive. And it was affordable.
Since then, that formula (big selection, convenient and cheap) ensured that Wal-Mart spread swiftly, first throughout the rural south, and then ... everywhere.
The results have been mixed. Wal-Mart is admired by some as the leanest, meanest example around of good, old-fashioned American entrepreneurship, mixed with a savvy grasp of international economics.
And it is detested by others as the destroyer of small town infrastructure, the death knell of locally-owned and economically diversified downtowns, and worse.
Which view is correct? That's an excellent question.
A few weeks ago, a group holding the latter view booked one of our meeting rooms. They showed a movie ("Wal-Mart: the high cost of low price") and talked about it.
Shortly afterward, a local resident, holding an opposite view, complained to the town government about the event -- a complaint forwarded to me.
What I wrote him was (roughly) this:
* on the one hand, the library isn't responsible, or culpable, for the views expressed by people who book public spaces.
* on the other hand, I am delighted to have the library host discussions about controversial issues.
Good questions deserve good debate. Why not at the library?
I jumped into our catalog to see what we've got on the topic. Here are just two representative titles:
* "The Wal-Mart decade: how a generation of leaders turned Sam Walton's legacy into the world's number one company," by Robert Slater, and
* "In Sam we trust: the untold story of Sam Walton and how Wal-Mart is devouring America," by Bob Ortega.
Thinking about this reminded me of several things. First, I recently nominated Reggie Rivers for a library award for his writings against censorship. When receiving this award he commented that we need the First Amendment to protect /offensive/ speech. Why?
Because inoffensive speech doesn't need protection. You can stand on the corner and proclaim your tender affection for butterflies, and nobody cares.
Second, I can't help but notice that our media bristles with critiques of public education, and endless varieties of "bureaucratic government." We take that as a given, as a right, and even as a commonplace. Who complains about it?
But it seems criticism is not constrained only to the public sector. There are problems, and issues, in the private sector, too.
My own view is that public sector or private, any human institution will exhibit some behavior that is wholly admirable, and some that is not. It's a good topic for a library program, whether we are direct sponsors, or not.
And maybe it's not a bad thing for the private sector to take a walk in the public sector's shoes every now and then. If only for the blisters.
But I was young and restless, and really didn't want a career in a shopping mall. So I hit the road with a pair of shoes I sold myself.
And those shoes gave me blisters so bad that by the time I got to my uncle's in the Arkansas Ozarks, I could barely walk.
So my aunt took me to a big new store that had just opened up in Fayetteville. I'd never heard of it, but my aunt said the prices were great.
It was called Wal-Mart.
I did indeed find a pair of good, cheap sneakers there. I wore them, very comfortably, the whole time I worked as "mud man" (cement mixer) for my uncle, a stone mason.
For most of my kinfolk, Wal-Mart was a godsend. It offered a lot of things that weren't to be found within an hour's drive. And it was affordable.
Since then, that formula (big selection, convenient and cheap) ensured that Wal-Mart spread swiftly, first throughout the rural south, and then ... everywhere.
The results have been mixed. Wal-Mart is admired by some as the leanest, meanest example around of good, old-fashioned American entrepreneurship, mixed with a savvy grasp of international economics.
And it is detested by others as the destroyer of small town infrastructure, the death knell of locally-owned and economically diversified downtowns, and worse.
Which view is correct? That's an excellent question.
A few weeks ago, a group holding the latter view booked one of our meeting rooms. They showed a movie ("Wal-Mart: the high cost of low price") and talked about it.
Shortly afterward, a local resident, holding an opposite view, complained to the town government about the event -- a complaint forwarded to me.
What I wrote him was (roughly) this:
* on the one hand, the library isn't responsible, or culpable, for the views expressed by people who book public spaces.
* on the other hand, I am delighted to have the library host discussions about controversial issues.
Good questions deserve good debate. Why not at the library?
I jumped into our catalog to see what we've got on the topic. Here are just two representative titles:
* "The Wal-Mart decade: how a generation of leaders turned Sam Walton's legacy into the world's number one company," by Robert Slater, and
* "In Sam we trust: the untold story of Sam Walton and how Wal-Mart is devouring America," by Bob Ortega.
Thinking about this reminded me of several things. First, I recently nominated Reggie Rivers for a library award for his writings against censorship. When receiving this award he commented that we need the First Amendment to protect /offensive/ speech. Why?
Because inoffensive speech doesn't need protection. You can stand on the corner and proclaim your tender affection for butterflies, and nobody cares.
Second, I can't help but notice that our media bristles with critiques of public education, and endless varieties of "bureaucratic government." We take that as a given, as a right, and even as a commonplace. Who complains about it?
But it seems criticism is not constrained only to the public sector. There are problems, and issues, in the private sector, too.
My own view is that public sector or private, any human institution will exhibit some behavior that is wholly admirable, and some that is not. It's a good topic for a library program, whether we are direct sponsors, or not.
And maybe it's not a bad thing for the private sector to take a walk in the public sector's shoes every now and then. If only for the blisters.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
November 17, 2005 - DC8 is the best
I know people have wondered for years just what happens when somebody walks into the library with a question about local history. Well, now, thanks to Douglas County's government cable TV station, DC8, all our secrets have been laid bare.
It's in their recent "Kit Carson's Last Campfire," an original musical detailing the real story of Kit Carson in Douglas County. When challenged, the staff of the Douglas County History Research Center springs into action.
There's the usual white glove inspection, of course, then, moving with the smooth precision of a synchronized swim team, battalions of reference librarians and archivists take to the stacks, their well-oiled carts bristling with fresh supplies.
There, as has happened so many times before, we burst into song. And the answers appear.
Well, OK, maybe it's not EXACTLY like that. But the folks at DC8 have indeed captured the truth: we don't just answer questions. We do it with style.
Since DC8 has revealed the secret of our success (DISCIPLINE, and a dab of irreverence), turnabout is fair play.
At the end of October, according to a recent press release, "DC8 team members brought home seven Emmy Awards in four categories from the National Academy of Arts and Sciences Heartland Region Emmy Awards Ceremony."
Yes, that's the real deal. These are the genuine (albeit regional) Emmys, established by the National Television Academy in 1947. DC8 took awards in the Chapter of the Academy that includes almost all of Colorado, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska -- and a little sliver of southeast Wyoming. This is called an "Area Emmy Award."
In addition to the piece on Kit Carson (in which our staff cavort -- after hours, I might add), the library is also featured in another production. Called Lunchbreak, this is DC8's altogether innovative new interview program. The idea is this: Steve Capstick swings by in his pickup truck and grabs a guest. Then they drive around for awhile and talk.
As anyone who has ever taken a long car drive knows, this isn't a bad setting for frank conversation. It's not your usual "talking heads in the studio" sort of thing. Steve has the "everyman" gift. He's easy to talk to. And he asks serious, thoughtful questions in a casual way.
I had the honor to be the first interview in the series, and that session (on censorship) garnered an Emmy for:
* Steve Capstick, host.
* David Schler, Producer.
* Frank Bokoksi, Editor.
* Jess Stainbrook, Executive Producer.
It beat out the nominations for Ron Zappolo and Fox 31, to the delight of DC8 staff, and the consternation of the competition.
The library has enjoyed its relationship with DC8. This award winning group (and this is not the first year they've brought home some Emmys) has dedicated itself to something worthwhile.
They are telling the story of Douglas County.
In order to do that, they dig into the alternately quirky and moving history of our area. So we see them at the library fairly often. (And look for their productions on our shelves.)
But even more than being diligent researchers, their real talent lies in the finding and "framing" of a story. The interview program in a pickup. The exploration of a UFO or Bigfoot sighting. The following of a coal train.
DC8 is NOT your typical government television, and that makes it interesting and watchable.
Douglas County has reason to be proud of this troupe of funny, yet thoroughly professional, storytellers. They just might do for Douglas County what Garrison Keillor did for Lake Wobegone.
It's in their recent "Kit Carson's Last Campfire," an original musical detailing the real story of Kit Carson in Douglas County. When challenged, the staff of the Douglas County History Research Center springs into action.
There's the usual white glove inspection, of course, then, moving with the smooth precision of a synchronized swim team, battalions of reference librarians and archivists take to the stacks, their well-oiled carts bristling with fresh supplies.
There, as has happened so many times before, we burst into song. And the answers appear.
Well, OK, maybe it's not EXACTLY like that. But the folks at DC8 have indeed captured the truth: we don't just answer questions. We do it with style.
Since DC8 has revealed the secret of our success (DISCIPLINE, and a dab of irreverence), turnabout is fair play.
At the end of October, according to a recent press release, "DC8 team members brought home seven Emmy Awards in four categories from the National Academy of Arts and Sciences Heartland Region Emmy Awards Ceremony."
Yes, that's the real deal. These are the genuine (albeit regional) Emmys, established by the National Television Academy in 1947. DC8 took awards in the Chapter of the Academy that includes almost all of Colorado, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska -- and a little sliver of southeast Wyoming. This is called an "Area Emmy Award."
In addition to the piece on Kit Carson (in which our staff cavort -- after hours, I might add), the library is also featured in another production. Called Lunchbreak, this is DC8's altogether innovative new interview program. The idea is this: Steve Capstick swings by in his pickup truck and grabs a guest. Then they drive around for awhile and talk.
As anyone who has ever taken a long car drive knows, this isn't a bad setting for frank conversation. It's not your usual "talking heads in the studio" sort of thing. Steve has the "everyman" gift. He's easy to talk to. And he asks serious, thoughtful questions in a casual way.
I had the honor to be the first interview in the series, and that session (on censorship) garnered an Emmy for:
* Steve Capstick, host.
* David Schler, Producer.
* Frank Bokoksi, Editor.
* Jess Stainbrook, Executive Producer.
It beat out the nominations for Ron Zappolo and Fox 31, to the delight of DC8 staff, and the consternation of the competition.
The library has enjoyed its relationship with DC8. This award winning group (and this is not the first year they've brought home some Emmys) has dedicated itself to something worthwhile.
They are telling the story of Douglas County.
In order to do that, they dig into the alternately quirky and moving history of our area. So we see them at the library fairly often. (And look for their productions on our shelves.)
But even more than being diligent researchers, their real talent lies in the finding and "framing" of a story. The interview program in a pickup. The exploration of a UFO or Bigfoot sighting. The following of a coal train.
DC8 is NOT your typical government television, and that makes it interesting and watchable.
Douglas County has reason to be proud of this troupe of funny, yet thoroughly professional, storytellers. They just might do for Douglas County what Garrison Keillor did for Lake Wobegone.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
November 10, 2005 - library of the future matters for what doesn't change
Recently, I wrote an article for a professional magazine about "the 21st century public library."
I outlined the broad process through which most public buildings are designed and constructed. The idea was to give librarians who haven't gone through all this a template to follow and to tweak.
Since then, I've been thinking more generally about the question, "What will tomorrow's library look like?"
Most futurists run wild with this kind of question. They want to talk about all the things that will change, the things that will be different.
Here's what I think: the heart of our business will not change. The library will continue to be, at its core, a public place where books and people come together.
The shape of the book has evolved and multiplied. We have books on tape, books on CD, books as downloadable mp3 files, and ebooks. But for the foreseeable future, the common hard- and softback book is cheap, handy, and remarkably durable.
Like many other libraries around the country, we have been experimenting with various merchandising techniques. In one respect, the public library is taking a step closer to the bookstore.
Our computer system lets us track exactly what the public wants. Eighty percent of that is the really popular stuff. Tomorrow's libraries will buy in bulk, using "just in time" delivery methods.
Those same statistics have conclusively demonstrated something else: when we display our materials face out (as opposed to spine-out), they move a whole lot faster. At our Lone Tree Library, for instance, it is not uncommon for us to have to refresh our displays 14-16 times in a day.
The activity of making alluring public displays of new materials is many times more effective than our more traditional production of bibliographies and bookmarks. One big purpose of librarianship is to move those materials. Books belong in hands and hearts, not on shelves.
We carry more than books, of course -- although maybe "of course" is a little self-delusional. I referred last week to a recent international study. MOST people still don't know that libraries have online databases, which are a significant public expenditure, and provide high quality information 24 hours a day. We've got to work on that.
Many people are still amazed to find videos and CDs in libraries, too.
So if public libraries are becoming more "business like," and more sensitive to new formats, then what differentiates them from commercial book, movie, and music sellers?
There are at two answers.
First, although we may see all public libraries tilting toward livelier and more popular collections, there will still be, at least in larger buildings, a DEPTH of collections.
That is, you will be able to find the classics not available elsewhere. You'll be able to find the definitive works in a field, even if they are no longer current. You'll be able to find the series that prove perennial.
Second, and perhaps most important, public libraries will continue to be public space, staffed by conscientious public servants. While there is certainly an economic dimension to our lives, we are more than mere consumers.
The glory of the public library is that everyone walks through the door an equal: the rich man is the same as the poor, the old the same as the young. All have the same right to ask questions, to seek information, to receive the intelligent and courteous service of experts.
Many things will change in libraries. But that will never change.
I outlined the broad process through which most public buildings are designed and constructed. The idea was to give librarians who haven't gone through all this a template to follow and to tweak.
Since then, I've been thinking more generally about the question, "What will tomorrow's library look like?"
Most futurists run wild with this kind of question. They want to talk about all the things that will change, the things that will be different.
Here's what I think: the heart of our business will not change. The library will continue to be, at its core, a public place where books and people come together.
The shape of the book has evolved and multiplied. We have books on tape, books on CD, books as downloadable mp3 files, and ebooks. But for the foreseeable future, the common hard- and softback book is cheap, handy, and remarkably durable.
Like many other libraries around the country, we have been experimenting with various merchandising techniques. In one respect, the public library is taking a step closer to the bookstore.
Our computer system lets us track exactly what the public wants. Eighty percent of that is the really popular stuff. Tomorrow's libraries will buy in bulk, using "just in time" delivery methods.
Those same statistics have conclusively demonstrated something else: when we display our materials face out (as opposed to spine-out), they move a whole lot faster. At our Lone Tree Library, for instance, it is not uncommon for us to have to refresh our displays 14-16 times in a day.
The activity of making alluring public displays of new materials is many times more effective than our more traditional production of bibliographies and bookmarks. One big purpose of librarianship is to move those materials. Books belong in hands and hearts, not on shelves.
We carry more than books, of course -- although maybe "of course" is a little self-delusional. I referred last week to a recent international study. MOST people still don't know that libraries have online databases, which are a significant public expenditure, and provide high quality information 24 hours a day. We've got to work on that.
Many people are still amazed to find videos and CDs in libraries, too.
So if public libraries are becoming more "business like," and more sensitive to new formats, then what differentiates them from commercial book, movie, and music sellers?
There are at two answers.
First, although we may see all public libraries tilting toward livelier and more popular collections, there will still be, at least in larger buildings, a DEPTH of collections.
That is, you will be able to find the classics not available elsewhere. You'll be able to find the definitive works in a field, even if they are no longer current. You'll be able to find the series that prove perennial.
Second, and perhaps most important, public libraries will continue to be public space, staffed by conscientious public servants. While there is certainly an economic dimension to our lives, we are more than mere consumers.
The glory of the public library is that everyone walks through the door an equal: the rich man is the same as the poor, the old the same as the young. All have the same right to ask questions, to seek information, to receive the intelligent and courteous service of experts.
Many things will change in libraries. But that will never change.
Thursday, November 3, 2005
November 3, 2005 - libraries are going global
Recently, I was elected to something called the OCLC Membership Council. OCLC is a company that has been around for over 30 years, since the dawn of library automation.
Nonetheless, OCLC is a little hard to define. It is...
* A world-wide libary catalog. OCLC is used by librarians in 109 countries to describe over a billion books, music and film recordings, theses, photographs, and other documents.
* A purveyor of "e-books." These are electronic texts, readable, searchable, and even downloadable to your PC or handheld. OCLC, through something called netLibrary (and available through our website at www.douglascountylibraries.org) now boasts over 100,000 titles -- about the stock of Cherry Creek's Tattered Cover store or a medium sized public library.
* A supplier of various professional tools for librarians. For instance, librarians might pay for a service to compare local holdings to those of another library, and thereby discover "holes" in various subjects.
* The developer of various new tools for library staff and users. OCLC recently answered its 1 millionth online reference question. That's a service that puts a real librarian online, 24/7. (We use a similar service, although not from OCLC.)
* A researcher. At the OCLC meeting I just attended, I saw presentations concerning attitudes about libraries by savvy computer users around the world. (And I learned that even technically savvy users still aren't aware of all kinds of library services available locally.) I also saw an analysis of the five big libraries recently targeted for "digitization" (copying from print to electronic image) by Google.
* A "collaborative." That's library jargon for "people, sharing." There is a pooling of information, expertise, and materials among members.
* A for-profit company trying to solve a puzzle: how to grow from a national to an international company.
In Colorado, OCLC services are brokered -- along with various other services -- by yet another company, BCR. OCLC services are also sold in those 109 countries around the world.
On the one hand, national sales are flat. International sales are growing.
On the other hand, the base of sales is some 6-8 times greater in the U.S.
It's a conundrum. Is ANY company truly local these days? Look at the labels of your clothing. Consider the origin of any piece of equipment you use, from computers to car parts.
I'd read a great deal about companies moving off shore to take advantage of cheaper labor, and I've wondered about the effect of all that. But if other countries can sell to us, surely we can sell to them.
Many of our speakers were from other lands. They talked about a dual truth: many people turn their backs when they see an American passport. On the other hand, libraries are credible, neutral, even in other countries.
Most of our speakers agreed that there may be no one right way to do business globally. It takes local knowledge, cultural sensitivity, and a far greater familiarity with multiple languages than is possessed by most Americans.
OCLC has made extraordinary progress in establishing a planetary library catalog -- of materials using the Roman alphabet. But that just scratches the surface of humanity's works.
Can OCLC live up to the promise of one of its premier products, WorldCat? It will take some doing. But I like the idea of libraries being at the forefront of international bridge-building.
Nonetheless, OCLC is a little hard to define. It is...
* A world-wide libary catalog. OCLC is used by librarians in 109 countries to describe over a billion books, music and film recordings, theses, photographs, and other documents.
* A purveyor of "e-books." These are electronic texts, readable, searchable, and even downloadable to your PC or handheld. OCLC, through something called netLibrary (and available through our website at www.douglascountylibraries.org) now boasts over 100,000 titles -- about the stock of Cherry Creek's Tattered Cover store or a medium sized public library.
* A supplier of various professional tools for librarians. For instance, librarians might pay for a service to compare local holdings to those of another library, and thereby discover "holes" in various subjects.
* The developer of various new tools for library staff and users. OCLC recently answered its 1 millionth online reference question. That's a service that puts a real librarian online, 24/7. (We use a similar service, although not from OCLC.)
* A researcher. At the OCLC meeting I just attended, I saw presentations concerning attitudes about libraries by savvy computer users around the world. (And I learned that even technically savvy users still aren't aware of all kinds of library services available locally.) I also saw an analysis of the five big libraries recently targeted for "digitization" (copying from print to electronic image) by Google.
* A "collaborative." That's library jargon for "people, sharing." There is a pooling of information, expertise, and materials among members.
* A for-profit company trying to solve a puzzle: how to grow from a national to an international company.
In Colorado, OCLC services are brokered -- along with various other services -- by yet another company, BCR. OCLC services are also sold in those 109 countries around the world.
On the one hand, national sales are flat. International sales are growing.
On the other hand, the base of sales is some 6-8 times greater in the U.S.
It's a conundrum. Is ANY company truly local these days? Look at the labels of your clothing. Consider the origin of any piece of equipment you use, from computers to car parts.
I'd read a great deal about companies moving off shore to take advantage of cheaper labor, and I've wondered about the effect of all that. But if other countries can sell to us, surely we can sell to them.
Many of our speakers were from other lands. They talked about a dual truth: many people turn their backs when they see an American passport. On the other hand, libraries are credible, neutral, even in other countries.
Most of our speakers agreed that there may be no one right way to do business globally. It takes local knowledge, cultural sensitivity, and a far greater familiarity with multiple languages than is possessed by most Americans.
OCLC has made extraordinary progress in establishing a planetary library catalog -- of materials using the Roman alphabet. But that just scratches the surface of humanity's works.
Can OCLC live up to the promise of one of its premier products, WorldCat? It will take some doing. But I like the idea of libraries being at the forefront of international bridge-building.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)