Less Joy in Mudville

Remember "Casey at the bat"? The final stanza:

" Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out."

Well, I didn't get the library job I interviewed for or the secretary job I was offered pending a five day posting for internal candidates. A good internal candidate turned up, bringing me another come-from-ahead loss.

And the library job? Well, I think I'm Too Introverted to be a Librarian. This may be a fatal flaw in these days of diminished government funding. For $17.00 an hour one is expected to be an expert in child literacy and a go-getter at building community alliances. Except for large libraries like Ridgedale, Brookdale, Southdale, and Minneapolis Central, I believe the days of the reference librarian are over.

As I used to joke with my friend Laura long ago, it's time for life plan Z'', or Z double prime -- there have been many " life plans" along the way.

AMAZING KIDS

I was devastated the day the secretarial job fell through. I got through the day by promising myself I could hide under the covers when I got home. Jarrett was home when I got home, and he gave me a hug and asked me if I wanted to talk. Yes, the Man of Few Grunts himself. What a peach. This is his way when I am sad. I feel very supported. He doesn't say much, but I can feel how tuned in to me he is. He gives me some extra hugs, volunteers more help around the house, fetches me something to drink, and listens when I want to talk.

When Evan came home I was hiding under the covers, but I'd promised Jarrett I'd take him to buy a new video game he had on reserve, so once again parenthood pulled me out of self-centered self-pity and into the mobile world. Obligations give life structure -- something absolutely critical for a person who battles depression. Thank god for kids, cats, and work.

Evan gave me a hug too, and asked if I wanted to talk. What fine sensitive guys. Once male pattern baldness sets in, they'll be perfect Sensitive New Age Males. Evan also did something he's very good at, although it's hard to explain. I guess you could say he took over the physical and emotional management of the evening, smoothing out any conflicts, making sure things went smoothly and we all stayed on an even keel, pitching in even more than usual with chores.

Furthermore, he does it so subtly. There's no heroics of "Look, now I'm doing dishes because you are incapacitated with sadness, ain't I great." He just quietly steps in and covers things, not in a perfectionist way. He does "just enough," and that's a compliment, not a put-down. He doesn't grandstand it, and neither does Jarrett. I guess you could say Evan takes on a wider and more subtle role, some elements of which you might not notice if you weren't paying attention. In particular, the way he takes on what I can only call the "emotional management" of the household that impresses me.

I've seen Mom do this many times, and most of the moms I know (or women in any relationship), but I think it's outstanding that teenage young men have chosen to learn how to do it, each in their own way and to their own ability, and know when it's needed. I don't like to lean on them, but we all have days when we need support, and boy, do I appreciate it.

P.S. The subsequent days have been much better and my mood is much improved.

Unforgettable books--fiction

"A Winter's Tale," Mark Helprin's fabulous book of magical realism set in New York at the turn of the century, which features a consumptive heroine, a magical flying horse, and a gang leader who is a "color junkie, " is catalogued as follows:

Subjects

Irish Americans -- Fiction.

Reincarnation -- Fiction.

Supernatural -- Fiction.

Burglars -- Fiction.

Upper West Side (New York, N.Y.) -- Fiction.

=========
Nowhere do you find a hint of the book, and none of these are intuitively obvious.

Zorba the Greek is cataloged as "Love of life--fiction" and "Elderly men--fiction." It's a good start, but shouldn't there at least be a "Greek Islands--fiction" entry?

These are the Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication (CIP) categories, which the LoC kindly prepares so individual libraries don't have to reinvent the cataloging for each book. This save time and money and makes cataloging consistent from library to library. Fiction is difficult to classify, obviously, but somehow we're missing the heart of the book.

My solution, which might need some refining, is to have a category, "Must read this book." "Fabulous." "You'll kick yourself if you miss this one."

"Unforgettable books--fiction." Then the question is, who gets to decide what is unforgettable? I'm sure we could work something out.

Peach

This morning I ate a perfect peach, a proof of grace and beauty.

Do you remember the wonderful book Umbrella, by Taro Yashima? It's the story of a little girl named Momo, which means peach, and her umbrella. The rain, when it finally comes, makes the sound "bolo bolo, pom polo, bolo bolo, pom polo."

The Hennepin County Library doesn't have it, but the Minneapolis Public Library does. It was first published in 1958, and reissued in 1986. It's a perfect example of a classic children's book that stands the test of time, and a good example of why we need both kinds of libraries, the ones like Hennepin that have more copies of popular books, and a collection that is in general newer and in better shape, and a library with a big "back list" a deep collection of classics.

Wild Mondarda

For the past two days I haven't gotten out into the garden at all. This morning when I walked out to the car I noticed a lavender blur in a place I wasn't expecting one.

It was wild monarda, harvested from a field behind the Subway off I35 in Moose Lake two or three years ago, thought dead and gone lo these many years. I don't understand it, but I like it! I'm racking my brains to think if I've had other, more recent, Monarda adventures. This was growing in my brush pile, so it hasn't been watered all year. One tough plant! I'm going to transplant it to the front slope, which gets hot afternoon sun.

On a related topic: this is the first year we've had more raspberries than we can eat. I should harvest some. Right after the rhubarb, which should have been cut months ago. And I should really fertilize the roses, they should have been fertilized twice already.

This reminds me of a wonderful essay by T. B. White. I'll see if I can scan it and post it here. It's a long list of "I should" chores for his farm, with all the accompanying "but before that I need to" and "and as long as I'm doing that I should. . . " It ends "but now it's 4:00 in the afternoon so I think I'll finish this essay and go have supper."

Dale and Jim Ed read it on the Morning Program years ago for Labor Day (Labor=work=chores.) You could hear their voices grow embarassed as the essay went on and on, sounding longer to them than it had in their estimation, and I think they probably consider it one of their less successful moments. I loved it and went on a leisurely search for it that involved skimming many of White's books over the course of 5-8 years.

I finally found it while subbing in the Central Minneapolis Public Library ("downtown") Literature and Language Department with the help of a very experienced and wonderful librarian and a paper card catalog! The card catalog was no longer being maintained even at the time, and I don't know if it made the transition to the new building. On-line cataloging has improved and if the book were to be cataloged today it might, repeat might, have a list of all the essays. It's a good possibility. But of course, the book won't be re-cataloged, and in most libraries it wouldn't even still be held. In fact, it might have been weeded in the Minneapolis system, too. I copied the essay and I don't know if I even noted the name of the book. One small look at the inner workings, and trade-offs, of deciding what to keep and how to access it.