Be Good to Your Mother

Well my dear mother was not very happy with her portrayal as a hippie book addict. If you read the post you will see a comment from my brother confirming my side of the story.
Hi My Name is Phil and I'm a Biblioholic: Hi my name is Phil and I am a Biblioholic.

Something good has come from this though. My mom has finally begun to talk about her problem. She has decided to review the libraries in her life and face the stark reality of her situation. They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step.

Let the healing begin.

The first library I remember was at Douglas Grade School in Springfield, Illinois. The school was named for Stephen A. Douglas and was built around the turn of the 20th century. Its time and place dictated that the bookcases would be of oak and have at least some of the prairie style influence. (This library was a room in the school reportedly designed by Frank LLoyd Wright)

It was a small room and the books were divided not by Dewey but by grade/reading level. There were rows of stiff wooden chairs and we were all lead, single file, from our classroom to the library. It was expected that each student would quickly select a book and spend the remainder of our weekly library period reading. By the end of my eight years, before what Phil calls the torture of middle school was invented, it was increasingly difficult for me to find a book I had not read. I would browse through the books in vain for nearly the entire period, drawing frowns from the teacher but no help.

I have come to believe that the entire library collection was purchased when the building was constructed and never upgraded. This had some interesting results for me.

I learned how to relate to other children by reading the Betsey-Tacy series by Maud Hart Lovelace. I grew up on a farm, isolated from other children and supervised by my Grandmother. The house had no central heat and no running water. Given the circumstances, it is not surprising that I did not realize that Maud Hart Lovelace was writing of an earlier time. Her accounts of children who could find playmates next door, lived in a city and could go to the library on there own were wondrous to me. It wasn't until I visited the Minnesota Historical Society on my second honeymoon that I learned that she was from Mankato, Minnesota and that the stories were memories from her childhood.

As the location of the school influenced the library's physical appearance, the name of the school influenced the collection. While I do not remember meeting an actual librarian, the person who chose the books must have had a strong interest in the Civil War. That coupled with the fact that many of the Generals wrote and published their memoirs around the turn of the century resulted in a collection for the older grades that included Grant, Lee and Sherman's memoirs along with Mosby's account of the career of a partisan ranger.

The only other thing I remember from grade school was that the seventh and eighth grade teachers, both men, read the stories of Edgar Allen Poe to us on Friday afternoons. But the library brought a remarkable richness into my life. I've walked the streets of Warrenton, Virginia, seen Mosby's house and his beloved Shenandoah Valley, marveled at Grant's stoicism on the battlefield at Shiloh, and attended a re-enactment of Sherman's funeral in St. Louis. For ten years I worked as a Park Ranger at Abraham Lincoln's home in Springfield, spent quiet winter days volunteering at the Lincoln Tomb and walked the battlefield at Gettysburg alone on a beautiful spring morning. These experiences, and my love of history, I have been able to share and enjoy with my sons.

Today Douglas school is an alternative school. The library was turned into a media center in the 1960's.

Isn't it amazing how books and libraries can shape our lives. I wonder what kind of memories the Internet generation will write about and what will be the influences they remember.

Technorati Addition

Technorati Profile
I am part of the university library faculty. My areas of research and development include, Computer Science, Political Science, Military Science, Geography, Religion. Philosophy, and History. Before that I was Head of the University Web Development Office, and Assistant Director of archives and special collections. I have a Masters of Library and Information Science and A Master of Arts and Sciences in History, focusing on 19th Century Communal Societies in The United States. I was inducted into Beta Phi Mu the Honorary Society of Library Science, and Phi Alpha Theta the Honorary Society for History.

4:45 AM the Last Night

There is one group. Up on the fourth floor. Being loud playing music (quietly) talking and having a good time. I have had to talk to this same group all week. Tonight it is to darn late, and I am to darn tired to get into a confrontation or scene on the last night. If there is anybody else on that floor and they don’t like the noise the can move to one of the three other empty floors in the building.

Now, I know that some of you librarians are wondering if you will chicken out under fire. Don’t you worry about that, I can assure you that you will all do your duty in a confrontation. That when you put your hand in a pile of confetti that a moment before was the third volume of the Oxford English Dictionary! (Cham – Creeky) You’ll know what to do.

Now it will be my pleasure and my privilege to serve with all of you anywhere anytime.

That’ll be all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDecLiA_Qbw

R Philip Reynolds

Librarian

Where will I be Working in Twenty Years?

I think it is like the title of the slide show suggested. The all nighter at the library turns the library into an extension of the dorm room. They study they sleep, they talk with friends, they surf the web, they play games and they do other things best not mentioned. I think this concept good or bad, useful or not, may be an important one. I have just not quite wrapped my mind around why it is yet. I think it is bound up in the academic commons idea, but I think now more than ever that there is an even wider disconnect between our thoughts and ideas as a profession about the library, and information, than I earlier suspected and mentioned in one of our Friday meetings.

I worry that we are not able to think radically enough or far enough outside of the box (and the library is a big brick box, our offices our smaller sheetrock boxes, our books and journals paper boxes and our computer monitors electrified boxes) to breach this gap. If we do I fear that the programs and solutions would so far beyond the pale that the faculty and administration and many of us would not be able to accept them. We need to search the journals, the web, the blogs and list-servs and compile the ideas that are really out there, especially in RIS. We need to be careful with all our vendors and their products. Careful that the features the vendors sell us are driven by our program and not have our program driven by their features. I have been thinking a lot about our RIS home page all week and the more I think about it the more unsure I become about what it and we should be.

Another observation; almost every student, and I mean 95 -99 % are wired to something. A laptop, MP3 player, cell phone, something. I know that we know this and see it every day, but as you may have noticed in some of the pictures it is a little more pronounced these last few nights. We need to be there as well. That is where they are at. This special deal that was recently announced by ITS on cell phones with Cingular, could an arrangement be made to have the info desk preloaded into those phones? It could be called InfoDesk, SFA Library or The Library or whatever, but what if we were already there? What if before every class, we had everyone get out their phone and enter the info desk number? I know that some do already but what if we all did, IL, SI, everyone. What if we had every student worker do this the day they were hired? What if we suggested that when they heard someone with a question that needed answered that they dial the number and hand over their phone? That is viral marketing. How many student workers do we have and how much of the student population do they interact with when they are not working? What do the numbers become when we add all our classes? This is what makes fortunes on the web now. Not big add accounts but people telling other people how great something is or inviting their friends (Facebook, MySpace, Gmail) to participate. I’m afraid we may just be taking old paradigms, giving them new euphemisms and then sticking it on the web or in the classroom and thinking we are making progress. I haven’t seen a suggested professional reading list of journals for librarians. I’m sure there are some. I wonder though if they include Wired, The Register, Salon, SearchEngineWatch, or the continual stream of reports from the Pew Charitable Trust. Our efforts should be research guided. I’m not sure that our profession’s literature is serving us well in this area right now. I may be wrong and feel free to tell me if I am. I think that maybe the research at: The Pew Charitable Trust Society and the Internet http://www.pewtrusts.com/ideas/index.cfm?issue=10 may serve us better and may be the place we should be looking to first.

I could be way off. There are a lot of people a lot smarter than me thinking about this, but when I attend conferences I hear us (librarians) talking about ourselves a lot. When I read and look in other places I hear no one talking about us. The discussion of the Google digitization project is discussed one way by librarians and in a totally different way by everyone else. I know I am paranoid about this. I think it is because I spent eight years working with the web (at SFA which would make anyone paranoid), and have been using the Internet at least 11 years since the old UNIX command line days. When I came to this library there were three people who had worked in the SFA library longer than I had been alive. That is a career path that I don’t believe will be open for you Cassandra, or me, or for many others. I don’t see the library twenty years from now. Very few if any science fiction writers see us twenty years from now. Should we really be working to improve “library services”? Or is that the equivalent of the Soviets patching up the Mir station year after year to keep it going? Mir is at the bottom of the pacific now.

For today, tomorrow, next year and the next when there is a question to be asked I will answer it, a book to be found I will find it, and a class to be taught I will teach it. But, in the back of my mind I sense that something is wrong, the Library Profession is somehow on the wrong track, and that someway the needed change of course or transformation must occur from the bottom up, one librarian at a time, a grass roots effort, or maybe just a lot of rats abandoning a sinking ship. Many here are at a point in their careers that none of this matters, others of us are not. I wish I had the answers or at least knew how to begin looking for them. This feeling of watching a train wreck and not being able to help stop it is the worst part of it all.

I hope we can find the answers, and for the most part SFA library has been a place where we have been allowed to look for them and to try new things out.

On that happy note, I will go see if there is anyone in the library.

R Philip Reynolds

Librarian

2:14 and still awake

I had my second can of full throttle. The library would probably double its investment if they just had a stocked fridge of that stuff and some Freetos in my office all the time. Don’t let Tina or ME near it or it will be like Hammy the squirrel in Over the Hedge.

Mach 6 Drink http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFUGMkpnJrU

The building has cleared out a lot. But I see no sleeping or signs of those that are left slowing down. I noticed that a lot more trash has been picked up and put in the garbage instead of being left out. I think I have begun to make some sort of bond with the natives. They appear more docile and cooperative. I brought my camera with me this time around the building. Some were shy and had to be coaxed out of their hiding places while other strutted and thumped their chests demanding that their primitive nobility be recorded for the ages. I quickly made new friends and passed the word about the vandals and damage, and recruited their help in watching for trouble. I don’t know if this will help but I suspect that it has. Word is spreading of the strange silent pale one who stalks the stacks at night.

经册府明皇

Jing Ce Fu Minghuang



Emperor of Clear Bright Understanding of the Classics, Sacred Books, and the Library

I am way to tired for Midnight

The building is packed. I have never seen it so full before. There were some noise and water gun fights on the second floor but apparently UPD was called and it was taken care of. Its times like these that try librarians’ souls. I wonder why I became a librarian. I figured that since I needed to start writing every day, that I would start a couple of Blogs. The serious professional one is not ready yet. The other one you can find at:

http://himynameisphil.blogspot.com/

The Night Comes to an end.

I’m fading fast. The library is clearing out but there are still a good number of natives left. They got Johnson the poor b@$+@rd. I tried to save him put there were to many. I’m down to my last can of Full Throttle. I swear if drink anymore caffeine I’ll puke. I wonder which computer tech they’ll send up to clean my keyboard? So far all has been quiet. I helped some more people get connected and settled some people down and helped some others. Everybody keeps calling me sir and I am not even wearing a tie. I can’t be that old. Anyway there does not appear to be any damage or messes other than what a well used building should have. I am beginning to think that it is not why do we let them make a mess like this during finals but why isn’t the library like this every week.R Philip zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Don't get out of the boat!

Don’t get out of the boat. Or don’t get out of your office. Some had gotten out, way out. For them, their was no turning back. For me, well it would be a long week before I’d find out.

The air outside was thick and heavy with moisture the clouds pregnant with a storm they just couldn’t deliver. It was quiet. Yes to quiet. I could see faculty parking spot after parking spot full of student cars just like it was a normal workday. Slowly trudging through the darkness were misshapen forms of youth lost to hours of parties, carrying huge loads of books and then staying up into the depths of the night to fulfill the inevitable reckoning of assignments and tests that were due the next day. How could people who were once human turn to such a wretched existence?

I entered my sanctuary. It was a balmy 78 outside and a brisk 35 in my office. I gritted my teeth as the cold air bit into my face, but I knew it would keep me sharp and alert, and that a librarian needed, that extra edge, that extra hardness forged in adversity in order to survive.

It was time to leave the office.

I wasn’t prepared for what I saw I doubt that I ever cold be. Everywhere their were students reading text books. Studying, and eating. Laptops sprouted on the tables like clumps of Jonquils in the spring. Their blackened tendrils creeping along the tables, floors, and into the walls, waiting to ensnare the foot of the unwary, waiting to trap and devour them, like some kind of monster from a cheesy sci fi novel.

The binary gods had smiled upon me that evening. My computer and monitors booted right up and connected to that sea of bits and bytes that had no meaning and yet has all meaning. My laptop reached through the air and negotiated with another of its kind. They would again agree to talk to each other. All of the shining idols on my pressed wood alter with their multitude of symbolic icons sprang to life once more. My sacrifice to the priests of the systems temple had once again been accepted.

Others did not have such luck, as I walked the floor I saw scenes of frustration. Scenes of people who could not figure out why when they "mashed the button", the network did not come on. Some, I could help. Others were left to continue in their suffering until the night had once again ended and those that could help rose again to tell them to check their cables.

Their were other scenes that will haunt me throughout my days and beyond. Things I dare not share for fear of harming the faint of heart. I saw students using government documents, and if that is not fearsome enough the documents were on microfiche.

I grow weary. I most look to other tasks now and steel myself for the time when I must again enter the breach.

R Philip Reynolds

Librarian

10:30 Sunday December 10, 2006, The first Night

The time had finally come for me to go. I knew as I sat in my room that day they would be there waiting, drinking coffee, power drinks, and pep pills. Getting stronger and more restless by the hour as grew more and more weary. But for some reason I was drawn forward. Somehow not wanting to see what awaited but also knowing that it was there waiting for me.

I would learn things this week things about people, students, the night, and myself. Some of these things I knew I wasn’t going to like. I stopped at Wal-Mart the very heart of the city and learned that you can by chocolate cheese cake two pieces at a time instead of just one whole one. This was amazing. It meant could stop eating chocolate cheesecake a half a cake at a time. Maybe thing were going to be better than I thought maybe I could learn from these Nacogdochians. However, I knew my destination wasn’t the cookie cutter mercantile world of an old man now lying in his grave. My destination lay to the south. Despite my reluctance I could feel it pulling me, beckoning me, despite my better judgment. I had to know. I had to see with my own eyes the horrors, the tragedy, the scenes of mayhem and destruction that surely awaited me. I had stayed up through several nights sheltering refugees from the angry woman called Katrina. I had later moved the trees and wielded a chainsaw to fight back the onslaught of destruction brought on by Rita, but, was I ready, was I prepared, was I strong enough, ………………………….. for a night at Steen Library?

Only time would tell.

If you don’t hear from me tell my family I loved them.

R Philip Reynolds

Librarian!