Tour of the Building

Welcome to the Banned Library! We talk a lot here about our little adventures in, around, and far from the building, but we never talk about the building itself. Today we will fix that. First, let's start with the history of the place then a small tour.

History

     The first library in town was a small shack behind a butcher shop named "Pigs N Stuff." The butcher's wife, Mable Abrams, was an avid reader and collector of books. She would loan them out to the locals and to the school becoming our first town librarian.

     Around 1892, our prosperous little town commissioned the first charter for a public library. The five prominent families (Abrams, Carpenter, Davies, Roche, and Pittman) raised the majority of the money for the initial building on Second Street. This building burned to the ground in 1896 after the unnamed librarian drunkenly left a fire burning in the fireplace one cold December night.

     The next building also burned in 1899. 

     The town then decided to build out of stone. The Carpenter family held funds until the others agreed to erect a six-story tower along with the new three story building with basement. The tower, still the tallest structure in town, acted as a fire and tornado watch, and the library itself as a shelter.

     Major renovations were made in the 1950s, completed in 1956. The library expanded to twice the size as well as updated with modern plumbing, electrical, elevator, and air conditioning. Various improvements have been made since but the structure itself has remained the same.

First floor

     Walking in the library, you see on your left the circulation station cut into the wall separating staff workspace and the public space. The circulation and technical services workroom, staff bathroom, and loading dock are beyond. This left side of the building, still called the new part by some, is the addition made above and below.

     To the right, tables and chairs are laid out in the magazine area. The rounded wall and stained glass windows are the base of the tower with the wall now open space. The children's and teen department fills the rest of the first floor with ample shelving.

    An elevator, stairs, and public restroom are in the center far wall. Please use the public gender-neutral restroom before we continue as it is the only restroom in the building open to the public.

Basement

     Let's go down the steps to the basement. The most updated public area in the building, the basement houses the computer lab of twenty public workstations and a printer. We chose the basement for the lab because the heat in the summer months can be too much in the rest of the building.

     The three other double doors house our tech department, storage, and the plumbing and air conditioning units of the building.

Second Floor

     A quick elevator ride to the second floor puts us walking a small path to the Fiction section. Through the double doors on the left side of the building are a meeting room with kitchen where classes and large summer reading programs are held. The center of the second floor is open to view the first floor with two paths leading to the nonfiction section, reference desk, and small table area.

Attic

     The stairs by the reference desk lead down to the first floor and up to an attic area. This space is closed to the public and mostly acts as storage due to heat. The attic space was not expanded with the rest of the building during the renovation and no ventilation was added although it does have electricity (when it works).

Tower

     The Carpenter Tower stands at six stories. Access is gained through the attic, and a spiral staircase leads to two landings and a viewing platform at the top. Like the attic, the tower is closed to the public due to heat and lack of ventilation. Temperatures at the higher levels can reach up to 120 degrees (48 degrees Celsius) in the summer months. However, scientists and others still use the viewing platform for weather instruments, other experimentation, and observation.

     And that's our building! Please come down and visit and feel free to ask any questions to our staff.

A damn good kiss

When I find myself somewhere I probably should not be, I ask myself what my great-grandfather would do. MK Harker, from the records I shared last time, was a decisive and talented individual. He was also mentally disturbed from his time in the war and hated fire and everything to do with it, including firemen. I do not often refer to him when it comes time to do the annual fire inspection of the library. However, the man did innovate.

     As I stood outside the trailer park looking at the rows of disposable homes kitted out with flower gardens and fake lawn animals, I thought that MK would probably just go up and ask for the car repair manuals to get the bookmobile fixed. The ex-girlfriend of Children’s cousin Carol did not need them, and he could fix the car. Candi would understand. I told the children's librarian so.

     She shook her head, the red wires she called hair bouncing around in the summer heat. "We waited for a few days, sir. Candi might destroy them. She's a liar and a one of the worse people I've ever met."

     "What did your cousin see in her?" I said.

     Childrens said, "He saw himself in her." Her face turned bright red. "I shouldn't have said that."

     "Maybe I should do the talking?" 

     "Good idea. You distract her while I sneak around the back. Just don't be lured in by her ways."

     "What ways are those?" I asked, but she was already gone around the back of the second trailer on the right, tying her hair back in a ponytail.

     I sighed and made my way to the trailer. Up close it was a little run down with some rust spots here and there. A little company of lawn gnomes sat out front, each holding a different firearm. The one with the shotgun was shirtless and squinting as if to say "you might be bigger, but I'm meaner." At the foot of the door was a welcome mat turned around, which I liked. Every time you stepped out the world welcomed you. I knocked.

     A voice came from inside, high and shrill, "Who is it?"

     "ST Harker, ma'am. From the library."

     "What?"

     I repeated myself wondering what the hell I was going to say next.

     The door opened with a creak and a blast of cold bought air from a ticking window unit washed over me. The woman standing there was at least six foot and wearing a bikini top and cut off shorts. Standard Southern summer lounge wear. "Library?" she said, her voice pleasant at a normal volume. The room beyond her was dark.

     "Yes, ma'am. Just stopping by to, um, well…"

     "Go on."      

From inside the trailer, I could hear a scraping and saw a shaft of light fall across the floor as curtains somewhere inside began to part. If Candi turned around, things might get a little strange for us.

     I said, "Well, the library had a notice for some overdue books at this address. I was wondering if maybe you had them?"

     "Oh, well, I don't think I have any books from the library," she said.

     "Are you Candi?"

     "I am. How long ago were they checked out?" 

     "A few years."

     Candi frowned. "I mean, maybe. I did like to read a while, but I've only been here for a minute."

     Around the back of the trailer came a crashing sound. I wondered what the hell Childrens was up to. 

     Candi turned and brought back the shrill with, "Quiet, you damn dog." Back to me. "Come on in, let's look around."

     "I uh… I have a fear of dogs. Let's look out in your car."

     "In my car?"

     "Yeah. Most folks, the books slide under the seat, and they just don't remember."

     Candi nodded and stepped toward me. I had no idea what made her believe me other than some divine authority over books.

     "What's the book?" she said, fishing her keys from her pocket. 

     "I'm not sure. I forgot the paper back at the library, but there should be a stamp on the title page with our name and a call number on the spine."

     "Okay," Candi said. She pushed past me, her hand touching my butt. "Let's look in the back seat first."

     This had taken a turn, but there was not much I could do. She pushed the button on her fob, and a red Honda Civic chirped back at us. She opened the back door and said, "You first."

     "I'll check the other side," I said and tried not to be too awkward as I circled the car.

     After about five minutes of leaning over in the back seat, it was clear nothing was under the seats but old french fries and a sticky puddle I did not want to investigate. I looked up to see Childrens peeking out from the side of the trailer. She smiled and waved two large books at me. 

     "Well, I don't think it's here," I said. "Maybe if you do find it, bring it to the library. It's no worry and I'll take the fine-"

     Candi grabbed me by the front of the shirt and pulled me in for a kiss. A damn good kiss. A damn good kiss that wiped my mind of whatever I had been doing. 

     "Never had a librarian in my back seat before," Candi said.

     "I uh um well…" I said.

     Candi leaned in again, but I pulled back. Over her shoulder I could see Childrens standing with the books in one hand and dog's leash in the other, both on her hips. Her head shook slowly. I noticed she had a cut on her forehead that was bleeding down to her eye. That shook me out of whatever was happening.

     "I'm sorry. I have to go," I said.

     Candi stuck out her bottom lip and tried to pull me close again. "No, you don't."

     "Sorry," I said and exited the vehicle.

     "Well, you know where to find me," she said grinning.

     "If you find the book, thanks," I said looking back where Childrens had been. She had gone around the trailer. I made it to the car and sat in the air conditioning, waiting for my partner in crime.

     When she got in, she introduced me to Tom the dog while throwing the car repair books in the back seat. "You have lipstick on," she said giggling.

Highlight: BL0315 Papers of MK Harker

History is a weird, ever changing thing. The library archives are full of stuff from our little town that recontextualize modern things we take for granted. Take the bookmobile. After the children's librarian and I went looking for a way to get it fixed (that might be a little illegal), I decided to delve into our records about how the bookmobile came to be. The following is an accession record of the papers of MK Harker, former director of the library and my great-grandfather. He had the first modern bookmobile commissioned and while it did end in tragedy, I think his effort deserves a little looking at. We might even get a display going once we get the bookmobile rolling again. Next time you are in the library, ask the reference librarian how you can view these materials!

Collection

Papers of MK Harker

Identifying number

BL0315

Scope and Contents

The collection contains the personal and business papers, artifacts, and photographs of MK Harker, eighth librarian of the Banned Library. The materials date from 1912 to 1936 and document life in the town just before and after World War I, the Great Depression, operations of the library, and the culture of the area. The Papers of MK Harker contains mainly papers with some physical items and photographs. 

They are organized by the order they were organized by MK Harker himself within his office or were found in his office and home at the time of his demise. Some items were asked to be connected by date by his wife, Claudia Moreau Harker, at the time of donation in 1938.

Dates

1912-1936, undated

Creator

MK Harker (b.1894 - d. August 24, 1936)

Biography

MK Harker was born in June or July of 1894 to FP and Maude Harker. Most records of his childhood and early adulthood were lost due to flooding from Hurricane Camille in 1969, including formal education and census documents with exception of his high school diploma stating a graduation date of 1912. Federal census documents were incomplete for the area. According to family, he did some traveling.

In 1915, MK Harker enlisted in the United States Army. He rose to the rank of lieutenant when the United States joined World War I, serving in France the majority of his enlistment. He was honorably discharged in January 1918 due to burns inflicted during combat. Medical records show he also had trouble breathing due to smoke inhalation and had a "wet cough" the rest of his life. 

Returning home, he trained with his mother to take over the library. After her death in 1920, he took over operations of the library. During his tenure, he opened the library stacks for browsing, set up a modern (for the time) cataloging system, openly fought the fire department in the streets, and created the system's first bookmobile. 

In 1924, he married Claudia Moreau, the nurse that cared for him in the French hospital. According to one letter by MK to a family member, "she came to visit, and I asked her to never leave." The two had three children: JM Harker (b1925), Pamela Harker Abrams (b1927), and JN Harker (b1928). 

On August 24, 1936, the local fire company held a demonstration to protest the passing of a tax referendum that gave money to the library rather than other city services. Many documents show MK brawling in the streets with members of the fire department due to these referendums and levees during his time as library director. During this demonstration, MK rode the bookmobile into the center of town waving a baseball bat. A fire was started at the rear of the vehicle. According to newspaper articles, a panicked MK drove the bookmobile into the Opal River. The fire and his life were extinguished.

Size

28 cu. ft.

Abstract

MK Harker was a prominent advocate and innovator of the library collection and operation as well as a diarist during his time in war and as library director. The papers contain his personal writings, library operations, and various artifacts and photographs that chronicle not only his life, but the life of the town and the world that shaped it.

Arrangement

The collection is organized by his personal filing system and by accession from his office and home. When acceptable, items were grouped by alphanumeric order by date and subject. Several items, including artifacts and photographs, were grouped by his wife at the time of donation.

Provenance

Donated by Claudia Moreau Harker in 1938

Donated by JM Harker in 1964

Donated by Brenda Strong in 1965

Related

BL0318 Papers of Claudia Morea Harker

BL0412 Library Basement Collection

BL0512 Strong Family Records

BL1150 Bookmobile Collection

Artifact/Photograph List

34 items (12 Artifacts/22 Photographs)

Note: I cut the list because it's mostly pictures of the library. Come see us or check out the History of Banned Library book in the reference section!

Notable contents

Box 004, Folder 2 Letter from MK Harker to Claudia Moreau asking her to visit him after the war

Box 015, Folder 5 Personal note describing a nightmare of being trapped in a watery grave while fire rages around him as well as a description of a pet, a cat named “Peaches” who hated everyone but his wife

P0009 Photograph of MK wearing a uniform with unidentified woman, French flag in her hand

P0010 Photograph of MK in hospital bed with Claudia (censored)

P0012 Photograph of rear of burning bookmobile, one arm holding flaming baseball bat out of window, on Main Street with Opal River in distance

A0002 Framed metals (Army Service Clasps - France, Campaign Stars, Victory Medal, Citation Star, unknown obsidian circle with yellow/red ribbon)

A0010 Small statue of unknown material, cold to the touch, appearing to be a cross between an octopus and a bat

A0012 Burned and waterlogged wooden sign reading "Bookmobile"

Free Labor

Libraries are the town center. The help desk, the knowledge base, the relaxing temperature controlled space in town that everyone can use. They are the park except the trees have been converted into shelving and ephemeral lessons. But not everyone can get to them, so sometimes the library has to go to them.

     "I need a bookmobile," the children's librarian said.

     The circulation librarian said, "You haven't even done a story time yet."

     "It starts in a few minutes. But I can go to my cousin and get it fixed quick."

     The circulation librarian pushed up her thick glasses and said, "Better take the director."

     So that is how I found myself pulling up to a lone house out on a dirt road with a sign that said, "Carol's Repair."

     "This is a mechanic?" I said.

     "Carol does overall repair. Man can fix just about anything," Childrens said. She had her bright red hair tied back under a bandanna. It was a hot day and getting hotter.

     "You ever seen Cujo?"

     "Hush. It ain't like that."

     "No, the dog's a… what is that?"

     Childrens was out the car and squealing at a large greyish brown animal lumbering toward her. "Hey, Brady," she said as the dog leaned on her leg to get a few pats.

     "That Sara?" a man's voice said. He had a deep drawl that somehow develops fifteen minutes outside of town. The kind of voice that still says "Chi-car-go" when talking football.

     "Hey Carol. Been a minute," Childrens said, giving the little man a hug.

     He was fifty at least, small and wiry with a faded tattoo on one muscled arm. Might have been a mermaid or an anchor at one time. He said, "Who you brung you?"

     I shook the man's iron grip and said my name. He nodded, looked down at my Converse, and hooked an eyebrow at Childrens.

     She said, "This is my boss at the library."

     "You got the job," Carol said, his face splitting into a grin that matched Childrens. "I saw you post on the Facebook."

     "I did. And we got a little bit of a problem."

     "Uh oh," Carol said.

     I handed over the bookmobile's owner's manual. He thumbed through it while I explained. "Had a guy look at it a while back. He said the alternator's busted. That the wiring rotted, been eaten by mice, or both. I'm afraid, though, we don't really have it in the budget to fix it."

     "Mister, you gave this girl her dream. Ever since we was little, she had all these books and put them in order and read to the little ones. If I could help, I'd do it and you'd only pay for parts. Free labor."

     "If?" Childrens said.

     Carol said, "It's Candi." He spit.

     "What's she got to do with it?"

     "She took ole Tom and the manuals. I can still do most stuff, but for wiring like this I'll need the full schematics from the manual, and she took them."

     Childrens chewed on her lip. "We can get them back."

     "Who's Candi?" I said. 

     Carol spit again. From the look on his face, this would not be easy. From the look on Childrens face, she would do it with or without me.

Ain't no barb

Sometimes the perfect candidate comes through the door. They fit. They fit the description of the job. The education requirements. The experience. References that would make you slap your director. The pants interview is the only hurdle.

     For those not aware, a pants interview is when you are so impressed with someone on paper that you decide to meet them to make sure they wear pants. Or whatever appropriate clothing covers their bathroom bits. Because people can be great on paper and complete psychos in person.

     One time, long ago, I hired someone to drive our bookmobile. Former driver at Greyhound for twenty years, CDL on hand, and just a really nice guy on the phone. Hired him right away to come in part time and drive around the children's librarian on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other Saturday. He showed up with a parrot who screamed "Ain't no barb like Barbara's hooks in me" at random intervals. On his first day out, the parrot attacked the children's librarian while they were on route to the Children's Daylily School.

     She quit, and he was let go.

     So today we have our third interview, the last applicant, and this is a true pants interview.

     No pants, but a lovely floral skirt with a white top and a cardigan over. She was five minutes early and read to a small child while waiting. She did voices. The circulation librarian and I watched and waited for them to finish.

     Circ said, "Jesus, are cartoon deer gonna come out of the stacks so she can feed them by hand?"

     "I think we found her," I said.

     "Got her MLIS at University of Michigan. Was in the Peace Corps for two years. Ran the children's library at St. Anthony of Padua Children's Hospital. Started a reading program for blind… I can't tell if I'm impressed or gonna vomit."

     "She's the one."

     Circ raised an eyebrow. "Then why the hell does she want us?"

     In the interview, Circ repeated her question.

     Three said, "Well, I think something called me here. I'm not very religious, kind of a student of all faiths, but I believe in a guiding force that calls us to action."

     "So you read our job placement in the penny saver and came on down?" Circ said.

     Three said, "I think it was on the state commission website."

     "What she means is, what makes you want to be a children's librarian?" I said trying not to blow the one good thing to happen all week.

     Three took a breath, then smiled. "I just love helping kids find what makes them special. All kids are special and deserve to find that right thing, you know? What makes them light up like a lightning bug. That thing that will attract others to them, not because of what they have but because they deserve love and happiness."

     "Bless your heart," Circ said.

     I almost kicked Circ under the table. The interview kept on going, two, three, then all six questions. By the end even Circ warmed. Three had the job before she walked in, but by the end I was doubting if I was capable enough to be a librarian.

     We walked her to the door. I found myself struggling not to wave goodbye as she walked down the sidewalk. She stopped to smell a flower blooming through a crack.

     "She's gonna do great here," I said.

     Circ said, "She's gonna do great when she quits this place in two years. We never did ask why she was unemployed."

     Three reached the corner and stepped into the street. At that moment a bus came rolling around the corner. Three let out a small scream we could hear just over the sound of the air brakes and tires sliding over hot asphalt.

     "Oh my god," Circ said.

     I sighed. "Call the ambulance. Then call Two and tell them they got the job."

     I opened the door and stepped out just in time to see the bus driver leaving his seat. The parrot on his shoulder screamed, "Ain't no barb like Barbara's hooks in me."

We'll be in touch

Preparation. Some people say that if you prepare hard enough you can accomplish anything. In my experience in libraries, something is always waiting in the dark corner to destroy all your best laid plans. 

     Prepare for a dozen teens at a game night? Enter the 28-year-old man child who wants to get down on a Smash Tournament.

     Lovingly set out a movie night for a retirement home? Granma Gammy is gonna light into you because the main character said "fart."

     Try to do a job interview for a children's librarian? The candidate will come with a binder.

     "I've been looking around the library for the last two months, and I have some ideas," the second interviewee said.

     "Uh huh," the circulation librarian said.

      I said, "We have a few questions first, but if you would like to share at the end-" 

     The sentence crashed against a solid wall of enthusiasm. Second said, her red hair waving around like electrified copper, "First, you need a manga section. I know, you have a small collection of about a hundred, but I talked to the teens and you are missing some serious runs."

     "Uh huh," Circ said, looking over Second's application. From what I could tell she was on page four of six.

      Second said, "And the bookmobile! It's just sitting out there. Not once in two months has it moved."

     "Well, the alternator went out. And we think the interior lights are dead, and we need those to run it successfully," I said. "What do you think is your most desirable trait when working with people?"

     "I bet I can get my cousin to give you a good price on car repair. He might ask for something, but he's good for it," Second said.

     Circ sucked on her teeth. "You got your MLIS at University of Alabama?"

     "Roll tide," Second said.

     I decided to let Circ continue.

     She did. "Your mama Virginia?"

     "She is."

     "You know I grew up with Ginny. I probably shouldn't be in this interview. Didn't know you were Ginny's girl."

     "I'm not 'Ginny's girl.' Not since she went off."

     "You ever hear from her? You or your daddy?"

     "Don't care to."

     "What do you think of organizing nonfiction by subject?"

     "Good for a bookstore, bad for a library unless you got a robust circulation system. You don't, but you could get by on some more dynamic displays, end caps, and outfacing materials."

     Circ nodded. "You do funny voices?"

     "Yes, ma'am." Second peeled through a half dozen cartoon characters.

     Circ turned to me. Raised her eyebrows. 

     I said, "Great, well, this has been fun. Thank you very much for coming in, and we'll be in touch."

Light the Torch for the Library

The trick to interviewing is to make sure you are not being interviewed. Sitting there, the person on the other side of the table or screen wants to know why they should work with you. You, on the other hand, just want to fill a hole with the least incompetent person you can find.

     Someone who will not burn the building down at the first sign of stress.

     Our first applicant to the children's librarian position walked in with a torch already lit. 

     "It's my coping torch," he said sitting in the library conference room holding a flaming stick.

     The circulation librarian said, "That's about all I need to know."

     "We accept your need and hope you feel supported," I said. "Are you ready to begin?"

     "I've been waiting for an hour," First said.

     Circ looked at her watch. "It's early for the interview."

     "I was waiting," First said.

     "Let's get started," I said. "What do you feel you would bring to the position?"

     "I don't understand," First said.

     Circ said, "What the director means is, why are you here?"

     "I want a job."

     "Can you elaborate?" I said.

     "What does that mean?"

     "Just tell us about the torch," Circ said.

     First cleared his throat and looked to the burning flame. "When I was a boy, I found joy in the flames. The way they lick and spit. The way they dance in the darkness. My mother would hand me a torch every night and say, 'Edgar, don't you let this light go out or Satan will find us.' That was before she left. I would never let it go out as a boy. Then I grew up. Mother and sister and other sister left. But the torch. The fire. They stayed."

     "Well, shit," Circ said. 

     "Do you require the torch at all times?" I said.

     First said, "I do not."

     "Do you think you would be comfortable not having it while walking around the stacks?" I said.

     "The stacks?" First said.

     "The rows and rows of paper on hundred year old wooden shelves that would go up like kindling if you ate Flaming Hot Cheetos in them."

     "Oh, no, that sounds very stressful. I would need my torch among the books to scare away the snorts."

     "The snorts?" Circ said.

     "Satan's friends."

     "Of course. Well, I don't have any more questions. Director Harker?"

     I glanced at the list of six questions. We were supposed to each take three. By the light of the torch, they seemed so small and worthless. "I'm good. Thank you for coming in, Edgar."

     The torchbearer left us. 

     I said, "That was one of the emails."

     "Think he typed it one handed?"

Now Accepting Applications

How do you build a library? For some, the building of a library happens by accident one book at a time. For a town it comes from need. Space, knowledge, entertainment, a library solves these community issues. Of course, there is always one bastard that knows how to build a library better than others.

     "You need a children's librarian," the board member said.

     I said, "We are looking into hiring one."

     "Look harder. Kids need story time."

     I wanted to tell the man that story time had not left us. The circulation librarian had been doing as well as she could every Tuesday and Thursday and sometimes just when she wanted to. She would just sit down and start reading.

      The board member said, "I've heard complaints from others about how things are going."

      "What kind of complaints?" People always complained to the people with the will but without the power. 

     "Was there a story time about dressing up in costumes?" 

     "It was very popular," I said not knowing what he was talking about.

     "A real children's librarian would not have let that happen. Maybe a real director wouldn't either," he said and left, knowing a dramatic exit line when he said it.

     I made my way to where the Circ was slowly tearing pages from a book. Each page made a slow rasping that sent shivers up my spine. One page and another, a gentle destruction. Circ held a page in two fingers after relieving the book and blew on it. The paper danced.

     "What are you doing?" I asked.

     Circ dropped the page into the trash and said, "Weeding."

     "Huh. Did you do a story time about costumes?"

     "Yep. Day before last Tuesday sometime. We read 'The Emperor Is a Naked Bastard,' and I sang a song for the flesh. Then three members of the Endless Parade held the stage."

     "The burlesque troupe?"

     "Oh, ST, they were lovely."

     "Okay. Right. Have you heard from anyone for the children's librarian yet?"

     Circ said, "I emailed you two that came in online. Then one came in off the street and filled out a paper application. I left that on your desk. Another called, but he said we were too close to a school."

     "Will you be free next week to do interviews?"

     She looked me in the eye. "I am always free."

     Back in my office, I looked over the paper application. Our employment applications are standard four pages. First two pages are generic city forms with basic information: name, address, blood type, education, employment, and allergies. The other two pages go into your acceptance of  library work. Do you have customer service experience? Can you lift up to thirty pounds? Of what? What do you like best about lifting thirty pounds? Have you ever lifted up to thirty pounds while helping someone with a resume? Typing speed. What made this application different was the six single spaced handwritten pages that followed.

     I did not read it all. It began with the person's birth and continued. They spoke of love, laughter, and living. Then on page three the deaths began. I skipped to the end.

     A strange red stain blossomed on the sixth page. Before my eyes it spread until it covered all eight and one-half by eleven inches of the pulp. I dropped it to my desk where the wood began to absorb the liquid oozing ever outward.

     I grabbed the first page and reached for the phone. We had interviews to conduct.

Nope Nope Nope

     "You seen that Nope movie?" Freddy asked as we shelved nonfiction. We each had our own cart and neither had been sorted, so we kept crossing each other in the stacks.

     I said, "Yeah. Three times."

     "Three times?"

     "Yeah."

     "You scared?"

     "At the movie? Not really. There's some good jump scares and imagery, but I'm kinda used to all that."

     "I don't think so." Freddy walked down the cookbook aisle.

     I followed him with an armload of celebrity bullshit texts. "You don't think so?"

     "I think you were scared. So scared you kept going back to see it again. Make yourself feel alive."

     "Nah. My friends don't really like horror, so I went by myself then they decided to go, so I went again."

     Freddy shook his head. "What about the third time?"

     "Ashley worked on Saturday, so I went with her on Sunday."

     Freddy shook his head and shelved Matthew McConaughey's All Rice, All Rice, All Rice. "You were scared. Needed someone to hold your hand as you looked into your soul."

      "Sure. What did you think?"

      "Haven't seen it. Who's Ashley?"

      "You gonna see it?"

      "Nope. Way too scared. I don't fuck with aliens. Who's Ashley?"

      "What's wrong with aliens? I think it's kinda nice that we might not be alone in the universe," I said.

      Freddy put down the books he was carrying and turned to me. "Are you a genie or something? Do I have to ask you three times before I get an answer?"

      I smiled. "Tell me why you don't like aliens, and I'll tell you who Ashley is."

      He weighed it over then nodded. "Okay. One time, I'm watching this movie in college. And it's great. Space, laser swords, robots that are sassy, beautiful princess. Then the end comes. They all sit down to eat, when this guy starts convulsing. 'Get this man some Pepto Bismol,' his friend yells. The guy, he keels over, face all red and straining like he's taking a big crap. Then his shirt starts to move."

      Freddy put his hand under his shirt near his chest and started thrusting out before continuing.

      "Then, this little fucking alien thing all bloody and demonic, like a worm from an Arizona desert, pops out of the guy's chest. Looks all around. Then hops up with a little hat and cane and starts singing the scariest thing. I can hear it. 'Hello, my honey. Hello, my baby. Hello my ragtime gal.' Then, slide out and it's gone."

      Freddy stared into the distance. His eyes glistened and his shoulders shook. He turned to me. "Who's Ashley?"

     "Children's librarian," I said. "We watch movies together, me, her, and her husband. We were talking about making a library group. Would you come?"

      Freddy wiped his eyes with a sleeve. "Nope."

What happened to the cast of Home Improvement?

In the great year of nineteen hundred and ninety whatever, a little show called Home "Tool Time" Improvement graced our screens. It starred Timchael "Tim" Allen as a bumbling dad to three boys, husband to a grunt-hating wife, and some creeper in the backyard they kept behind a fence. What happened to all these people once the show ended? Let's find out.

Timchael "Tim" Allen

Tim kept on grunting his way into history by going to space. He had an adventure wherein he crash landed with his colony onto a planet. Desperate to get off, Tim tried to have sex with a cat, but it was a robot. Frustrated, Tim traveled in time to the point where everyone became assholes, including himself. Accepting his fate on this planet of assholes, he went on to act with Alan Rickman and Signorey Weaver to fight more aliens. They made a toy from him voiced by Chris Evans, who played Captain Britain, in the movie Up.

Patricia "Patio Pat" Taylor

Patricia ran like hell from the set of Tool Time to a great career as a lawn chair salesperson. Patricia formed a new kind of lawn chair company that exclusively deals with the terminally ill on a rental basis. Billions of dollars later, she took the name Patio Pat and stays out of the public eye. Rumor has it that she found love with an Australian named Bongo and they live on her yacht. Recently she fist-fought Captain Britain to a standstill in the newest Marvel movie, Avenging Your Mom.

Brad, The Oldest Son

The most active of the three boys, Brad has found himself playing multiple unlikeable douchebags in movies like Rage: Carry 2 Furious and some other shit. The level of "hey, it's Brad" has reached such levels that his personality has been replaced by two things: a certain "that smells" look and open disdain for Oreo cookies. We have no idea what any of that means.

Jay TeeTee, the Middle One

Remember floppy hair? Man, that hair was floppy, and he was so snarky! He now lives in northern California eating granola and talking about how much he loves his craft beer business. Mostly it hides an alcohol problem that really hides a miniature problem. People say, "When's Jay gonna make another movie and stop talking about beer?" Then other people say "I think he's got a drinking problem." And then yet more people say, "That's all bullshit. He's been building a model of the Home Improvement house to perfect scale. It's impressive." And you know what? We bet it is.

Mark, The Last One

To be honest, we heard this kid had problems. Like, twenty bucks tip, and he will get you extra hot sauce and stop for beer. That's right, he owns the rideshare company Beer Me, the only company that will stop and get you whatever, but only if you're cool. Are you cool? Bajillionaire.

Wilson

Sadly, Wilson passed away just after the show ended. In his will, he asked that his head be frozen. We do not know what the ultimate plan here was, but it could not have been good. His family decided the man's head should become a volleyball to honor his love of the sport. Even more sadly, it was lost when a FedEx shipment plane crashed. But! Tom Hanx was there, and they hung out for a while until Tom went for a swim, and Wilson's head floated away. The last time anyone saw the head volleyball, it was floating across Spanish waters, a shark fin close behind.

The High Bar

Picture this: A sixteen year old kid, lanky wearing a spiked bracelet and a shirt of the punk band Rancid, stands outside a college lecture hall. He's having a cigarette, waiting for the last possible moment to go inside where his friends are because he's awkward around lots of people. An old man with curly brown hair, some gray finding its way, stands off to the side with a group of stuffy academics. The old man walks to the punk kid and bums a cigarette, then moves back to the professors. The child goes inside to find his friends. A few minutes later, the lights go down and the old man walks onto the stage. The lecture does not change the boy's life, but it blew his damn mind.

     So that's how I met Kurt Vonnegut, albeit briefly. Seemed like a nice man.

     I've been thinking about that this week. Two people united by a bad habit passing in the night. One of them is an acclaimed author and humanitarian. The other a kid who wanted to write but did not know how. 

     That was my first time hearing a published author speak. High bar, right? His lecture on storytelling and the happiness of the characters rocked me, as did his books when I inhaled several of them. Hearing him speak, Vonnegut either loved or hated storytelling because those are the only emotions I can conceive that would produce the depth of thought on the subject. 

     Since then, I have heard many authors speak. In a small bookshop in Utah, I heard Dennis Lehane talk about his process. I drove all night and most of the next day from Mississippi to Arizona to get Christopher Moore to take a picture with my friend's lawn gnome. Just the other night, I saw Neil Gaiman read and speak in Seattle. 

     I love them all, but none will touch the first. The greatest of high bars. 

     Maybe I was too dumb to know better. 

     I do wonder why the hell he did not have a cigarette on him, though.

Villains Plan

What would the world look like if it was remade how the library saw fit? Probably fucked up. We tend to have issues with plans if we think too far ahead.

     A lot of stories are like that. The hero's journey is based on the fact that the hero is wrong about the way their life works out. They want something, like to get away from the humble dirt farm they grew up on, all the while the audience sees that they just need companionship and purpose. Stop trying to kill the Empire and hug your friends, Luke Skywalker.

     The tragic version of this comes out in movies like The Northman. Based on the story of Amleth that was the basis of Shakespeare's Hamlet, it's about a kid who has his dad killed and vows revenge. Where Hamlet's revenge comes in a slow poison death for all involved, the Northman ends with a naked volcano sword fight after a period of violent magic sword hackery. The journey of both heroes is the same, however, to learn that revenge is much more petty than tearing down the whole system. Sad to say that as a part of the system of betrayals and violence, the hero of those stories must also be torn down. The tortured hero cannot live in a utopia.

     Villains plan. By their nature, they create chaos by any means to get what they want. The majority of stories start with some evil nerd trying to get money or an evil stepmom trying to get the house cleaned. Then some hapless cop or poor dirty girl have to get involved, spending half the time reacting while the villain tears shit up until they gain the skills, equipment, and friends to start kicking ass. Or some random prince rolls in with a fancy shoe and kicks stepmom to the curb.

     What can we learn from all this? How can the library plan without becoming the villain? How can we react with any surety of the future? How can we learn from the stories we tell ourselves, we humans, that compassion and empathy give way to rich lives without sounding like assholes?

     Fuck, got lost in another rabbit hole.

     Come down to the library for story time this week. We're talking American Hippo by Sarah Gailey and how the world can be different sometimes based on how you look at it. Alternate histories abound in the forever fields of the human mind.