Just a fifth of Patience, Black Label, please...

I have three inmate library clerks to train, and it is amazing how little they know about work and life and the library. I have had much success training real workers in the past, they understand work and what kind isn't a problem, for all real work is similar. If I get someone with good life skills I can train them also, great attitude and harmony with the lesser universe and work is just a different instrument to play on and they dance through our work day. I could blame lack of library knowledge on the school system, television or credit cards and book stores -- but it could be they just shouldn't be library clerks if they were never real library patrons - how much customer service can you explain to someone that has never been a customer?

Less than a week on the job and they already want the library to be run differently, they want more creative time, they want to expound on their previous job and how wonderful they did there, they are becoming afraid to ask questions of me (have I been biting their heads off, or just am snappy having little tolerance for stupidity). I emphasized that they must look at the computer screen as they scan barcodes, and make sure they are doing what they think they should. But they know everything about computers and it doesn't look cool to keep looking at work instead of holding a wonderful conversation. Another shot of patience, please.

They don't understand they have so much more to learn, one shouldn't spend time sitting when the boss spends his time on his feet, that fellow needs more time shelf reading and shelving. When they get a chair and abuse it, it becomes a throne and overthrowing Kings is part of my past I don't like dwelling on and hardly want to repeat. My work is cut back and I have only two more days to try and finish February well - which is only a personal goal, but it is one of the only man I respect almost completely -- me. I do know a bit too much about his dark(inner)side, still he doesn't have much faith in excuses performing to expectations.

There is one advantage in their slow work habits, they can't get ahead of me, even when they try they are falling behind the power curve - it is all mine. The experienced clerk and I laugh a lot about the new guys, but then we keep hoping tomorrow they will be a bit better and learn another lesson or two. We are making them earn that forty-two cents an hour, shouldn't I get some extra compensation, too? Another shot of that patience, please. All my rewards are waiting in Heaven, going to get stuck in the library there, too?

Betterment Fund, my betterment or their's...

Seems that the Corrections Center at McNeil Island has spread that slimy criminal morality around, corrupting everyone. So, Ms. Accounting for the money? Don't you know only stupid people committ crimes in public? We thought we could trust the government, it isn't like the BIA Trust Fund accounting? Is it?

Ah, I shouldn't talk about stupid people, my Credit Union online banking service has locked me out of my account, again. It is for my protection and I only have to go to the Credit Union, during their open hours and talk to a real human being and bow fifteen times and plead with for mercy so I can get back online. I refuse. I am too stupid to be trusted with access to my account, through computers and cookies and their security systems - I know the high school I graduated from but I can't see what I typed - so did I hit the keys correctly? Only the computer gods know. So I write, six checks to spend my money, and seal and stamp five envelopes and I am a good citizen again. Without the online services of my Credit Union, for my own protection - actually it is for their protection isn't it? I really shouldn't talk about stupid people (me?), but should go bust some caps.

True Crimes

Well, I had a patron with a problem today, and I am kind of a problem solver. He wanted to know how he could have asked for a music CD on ILL, since he hadn't done that and he wanted to stop it from happening in the future. So I told him that I would put his account on restriction and when he really wanted library materials all he had to do was see me and I could fix it for him.

I asked him how it felt to be a victim of ID theft. Our policy is only one ILL per patron active at any time, and they (the criminal master minds) figure out that putting the request in another's name will be okay. Then when the material arrives they ask for it and get it - if my clerks are corrupt or not checking the patron name against the ID they just scanned.

I could recommend to the Institutional Library Leadership (bosses by any other name) that we first scan the patron ID (to check name against ILL request and for the patron having no ILLs) but that would be one step closer to slowing the whole system to a crashing stop.

Corrections Centers don't stop the criminal conduct; just its rewards, we are in a completely no smoking facility and the inmates will tell you that only the cost of tobacco has changed. And I would say the open display of foolish behavior over tobacco - but that is just my observation.

Back on to my hamster wheel!

I only took five days off in vacation, ABC World News reports that 468 million days of American's vacation aren't taken each year - fear of being found un-essential? Perhaps.

I looked forward to opening the library and getting things straight. New books and supplies had come in, there were two large book return bins to empty and check in and shelve. Six pages of emails to go through, the Valentine's Day foolishness was amazing viewed in one day with the real work wrapped around it.

Seems my boss fired one of my workers - he left and she just wanted to beat someone up. Down to two untrained and one brown guy she endured. I do remember that I was the last staff to chase off two workers - I must be too demanding and pride does get in the way, doesn't it?

But the library was open, I have started on some of the piles of stuff not done and the day was great for motorcycle riding, although I had the minivan. Tomorrow more hard work, some coordination with my boss and find out what she wants done next, but the library will be open and it will be functioning on three inmate library clerks until the latest ripple in my harmony with the Universe is corrected and smoothed out again. Focus on the positive, there are staff from the Western facilities working in the Eastern facilities because we haven't hired enough replacements and the pace is grueling and the rewards for doing a good job are only internal. The bigger Washington State Library is focused on the Legislative session, but not for the Institutional Library Services. The forgotten few, I keep thinking of those Foreign Legion outposts in desert Africa - no one knew their names.

My cold and sinus problem calls for some more liquid and lots of sleep and it is only six and a half hours until I have to wake for the next work day .... spin that wheel a little faster will you?

Nothing to Fear, but have you looked at...

The Twenty-first Century will be Asia's as the Twentieth was America's. America didn't finish off the second half as well as the first half promised - but I blame that on lazy and comfort and materialism - otherwise we would have permanent scientific establishments on the Moon and perhaps Mars. Our national priorities were too small, our government loves to dwell on what it can control and count, not enough dreamers and challenges to be met.

It doesn't matter, but one thing about the coming conflict with China has always been that the Chinese don't have a Navy and can't march their millions over to the United States to conquer us. That answer made me happy years ago, but as I travelled the country last week I watched the invasions that are already happening. Why, the Chinese are going to buy airplane tickets and we will fly them into our country and allow them to establish beachheads and bring on the following waves. The government already owes them Billions (I don't really know that, but politicians use that word all the time, so I will, too). That makes them our partner in international events, and even in consideration of our internal matters. The adoption of Chinese children and raising them as good Americans (which I support) doesn't sit well with the racists and Han Centerists of Asia. All this because we want cheaper goods to keep the restless American consumers happy and less likely to question the government's ineffectiveness and perhaps revolt some day. Not that I think there are that many revolutionists left... being willing to fight for something isn't a core value taught in schools where "Run, Duck and Cover" is taught before basic weapons safety and marksmanship. Although, if the American education system, where no child is left behind, were in charge of marksmanship I might have trouble finding combat experts and future snipers...

Nothing to worry about yet, but between our government and the possible future enemies in the world the chance for our best is at risk. One thing I do know, there are more good people doing the best they can, in our less than perfect system. So when the polishing and sharpening of the people comes in the times of trouble, we will be alright, just tired and older and saddened by the effort to survive.

Stepping into the Time Machine...

Closed the library on Friday, packed one suitcase for two and departed the Great Northwest. Left the suitcase in Chicago when we changed planes and our best laid plans. The library will be opened one day while I am gone - which means I am not important, or the library isn't or that four days of closure are just more punishment for the guilty. Could be that it has no meaning and no one will notice my shift into the future.

We are visiting my mother for her birthday, she was eighty on the 12th of February, born in a hospital in Uruguay in 1928 and living now in an upscale retirement home in almost Dixie. We find ourselves moving slower, speaking clearer and completely or else repeating ourselves to be understood. My slight limp from the motorcycle mishap has nothing on the number of Scooters, wheel chairs and fourteen types of walkers and canes. I find myself greeting everyone, saying hello with a smile and looking into everyone's eyes. I notice those that are doing things for other people seem the healthiest, happiest and most mobile, a secrect of success?

My sister shows up and hugs my wife and greets me and I immediately tell her to slow down, there isn't anything here to hurry over - she has just stepped out of her hamster wheel in her cage - she needs to adjust (slowly) to our future. We get her coffee and help her wrap a gift and talk (still too fast but we can keep up)about family elsewhere and what is going on and what is important. We don't mention politics nor celebrities.

A former sister-in-law joins us and we attack the set up of the area for the party/reception (elders have a very different party idea - no beer keg in sight). I do the thug work, five women and I just take orders and lift and tote. For fun I get to blow up the baloons, red and pink. Nice set up, nice cake and and most of the local world came to say hello, I get told I look like my father by all that knew him from his time in their world. My mother is having a wonderful time saying thankyous and explaining the pictures from the albums and years ago and far away. I have noted many pictures that I had never seen - some with a much younger fellow I could have been, except never that cute.

Party over, mother sleeping in her throne, we clean up and check the weather, sister decides she can safely return to the hamster wheel in her cage. Wish her well and a safe voyage - back to the place they depend on her for W-2s and payroll, and heartfelt hugs and good advice about home and life. She is speeding up as she turns to go... no time for my hug, but she and I aren't ever that far apart; we both wear LL Bean slip ons, and laugh immediately at the same funny, my sister.

I have a couple of more days for scouting the territory of the ancient, aged, aging, and just older than dirt. We met a ninety-nine year old at the party - she was a wonder. But knowing math the way I do, the women out numbered the men six or seven to one in that age group, I might not make that twenty year trip; I do ride a motorcycle and love to look leeringly at lovely looking ladies (not really, I just wanted to play with L's). I will continue to tell my wife she will miss me when I am gone, and I will continue to jog gently (85% of MHR) when I get back to "my" normal life pace and the walking race into the Prison from the ferry. Work harder work faster... but that is the subject of another post on another day.

I am driven, to communicate by Mom....

My mother made me promise as I entered adulthood and wandering away from the home to write once a week. I was close to that and the Army and the US Postal Service did the best they could for years. Then my son went off to Spain for the Navy and he continues, kind of, the tradition of keeping in touch. As I was looking for some stuff of old memories I ran across all of this, Envelope Art - two from him and two of mine, must have had more time in those days or talent. The Kingdome is gone and the poetry is still real bad but I have to thank my mother for pushing me to write more and often.

Help wanted!

Needed two library clerks, seems that I ran the other two off, I was too demanding? I just walk around saying "work harder, work faster" and they were driven off. Sad, I thought one of them was going to be really good, but he seemed to shatter under the interruptions of his harmonic motions.

So I put out a call with the job center and seven men showed up for testing, and four were satisfactory for the two positions. Three of the four had real problems with the Dewey system, don't I love a challenge? Then I have to pause and contemplate and review their interviews, and pause and contemplate. While I did that I had them all shelving books - and shelf reading, which we really needed, and I contemplated and got a telephone call from the Public Library asking if I could be available for a second job interview next week. No, I am visiting my mother on her birthday, so the suggestion was a telephone interview on Thursday or Friday. I said okay, just call and I will answer. I wonder why they would want someone like me, and then I really wonder if they don't know the other people would be better than I -- there is a reason that I do well on a prison island, in the library helping patrons with their needs.

I made a choice - picking the most educated and difficult to work with, and the least educated and almost slow to understand but very willing to work. After making my choices, notifying and talking and working the remainder of the day I think I should have taken one of the other applicants - since his testing and interview weren't the best but I liked watching him work with others and solving problems - the fellow with all the education is already trying to influence the environment, me and the crew - and I only want him to shelve and shelf read right now. Well, I do know the names of the two also rans, and the one that impressed me with his work, and I did some talking to him about how he could have done better in the testing and interview - you only get one first impression, but after that you build a reputation.

Heart Healthy... alive in love...

Thump, thud, thump, thud, the heart beats on
pushing blood all day long, be it weak or very strong,
surging blood moving on, beats the heart as it sings the song.

a heart in motion, yet quiet and still --
it feeds the body, soul and will.

All too soon the music seems to stop,
heart beats cease and pressure drops,
the body dies as Life steals away,
taking Soul and Will to their Eternal Day.

Loves and lives are saddened in pain
so soon only warm memories remain.

In my personal artist library, an artist leaves...

Today I find that Gus Arriola has passed on, I grew up on his comic strips and always thought that Political Correctness destroyed him since Mexicans couldn't be the way he drew them. But I might have been wrong. I own and recommend, if you can find it, Accidental Ambassador GORDO: the Comic Strip Art of Gus Arriola, by Robert C. Harvey and Gus Arriola. And if you can't find it I give you this link, the best ones keep getting away, but they do make a difference. My life was so much better, Gracias, Gus.

Everthing I needed to know about War I learned in...

kindergarten, to borrow someone else's thought. Not that I ever went to kindergarten which is why I am so misunderstood. But back to all anyone needs to know about war - a question asked of soldiers by those that have never been, my answer has always been "Read the Iliad, by Homer" translated by Pope or Fagles, then you will know everything about war. Then the "Nay" sayers will add that was then and this is now - but the weapons don't have anything to do with WAR, they are for killing and War is the experiences of men in combat, for whatever reason they got to that level. The Trojan War lasted ten years depending on the telling of it. I have been reading the tales from that war for the longest time, the Iliad says everything I need about war, then I go to read for the story. Colleen McCullough's Song of Troy, Lindsay Clarke's The War at Troy, and David Gemmell's triology about Troy, finished by his wife since he died while writing the third book. I understand that Homer is dead, too. The stories live on in the beyond. Enjoy, for War can't be enjoyed, only the stories. Start with Rosemary Sutcliff's Black Ships Before Troy, the whole story with great pictures by Alan Lee (hardback version?).

go gently into the night...

Evening at the supermarket and a young woman with a two year old girl in her arms and a four year old boy in tow entering the automatic doorway. A chubby middle aged man pushing his shopping cart out slows and then stops for the doorway to clear. The woman tries to grab a cart one handed and shifts the girl higher on her hip and pull a cart clear, but they don't cooperate, the carts are entangled and she is not able to watch the boy, get the cart and not drop the girl. I reach in and grab both carts and pull them apart and offer her a choice and as she takes one and says something I push the other into the long line of carts and smile gently at the boy, trying to make it reach my eyes and it did. Then I look at the chubby fellow waiting patiently for the world to clear his path and he nods approvingly and tenatively at me, I am above him moving into the store. Not a sound and the step on to the fourth level of defensive ethics, so seamless and in sync with the time and the deed meeting the need. Go gently...