In the blink of an eye

Lucky Apr 11 2011A golden heart stopped beating on Saturday, and I am very sad. Losing a furry family member leaves a big hole, and I remind myself that it is so much better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. So, I’m painfully aware of how blessed I am to have had Lucky, a not-so-small retriever-lab-? mixed breed yeller dog.

She was an accidental family member. One afternoon in the fall of 1998 a young cop found a young pup wandering around. We later learned that someone had dumped her near the police station in western South Dakota, and I think that somewhere deep in their miserable soul, they thought that leaving her there would assuage their guilt of abandoning her. Standard procedure for the cop was to take her to the humane society shelter. He recognized that taking her there at that particular time would be a sure death sentence, because the shelter was fighting an epidemic of parvovirus. So, alerting local animal rescue agencies of her foster home, he brought her to his parents’ house, where there was a big fenced yard, a playmate, and dog-loving people (alias suckers). He was sure that a hunter had lost his dog, and would soon reunite with her.

So, the mom said she could sleep in the garage (she never did) and she could stay for a short time (13+ years) until her owners found her (and they did, in a matter of speaking). The cop’s wife named her “Lucky” for her good fortune at landing with these people. After 2 weeks with no one claiming her, the family sought out a new home for her. When a prospective family came to inspect her, the dad saved Lucky from the torment of the family’s rambunctious kids and pronounced that she was staying. Huh?

Lucky bonded immediately with her new family’s springer Jack, and the cop’s pup Emma. Jack feared Emma, Emma feared Lucky (only a little), and they all 3 feared the 15 pound Maine coon cat (with claws) Suzi Q.  Lucky didn’t play favorites, but she always had a preference for the cop who found her and his brother, and would do whatever they bid her to do. She very quickly learned that this new family did not like her habit of walking over the chain link fence, and she gave it up except when there was something she really, really wanted to do. After her escapes she always showed up at the front door, looking very penitent. She wasn’t fond of rabbits that got into the fenced yard, and put a quick end to two of them, although after bringing them down, she left Jack to stand guard until the people took care of disposal.

Over the next years Lucky’s family moved to 2 places in Minnesota. Lucky loved going for walks. When she went with her mom, who discussed work problems with her, Lucky always gave good advice. The family expanded to include grandkids, and Lucky loved them too. When one of the grandkids got very very sick, Lucky was his loyal companion through the first scary months of his treatment, and listened to him read his homework to her.

As the years passed, first Suzi Q, then Jack, then Emma crossed the Rainbow Bridge where all animals go to await their owners. Lucky’s mom and dad adopted an annoying little creature that looked more like a gerbil, and after Lucky set the pug dog straight she  decided she was a worthy companion. Lucky got slower, but never lost her happy countenance. When the family came and filled the empty bedrooms, Lucky went from one to another basking in their love.

After everyone left New Years Day, she seemed to get more tired. She enjoyed her meals and begged for all the treats she could get. She would take longer to go up and down the stairs in the multi-level house, but always stayed near her mom and dad wherever they were. Finally, on January 28th she got her mom up even though it was Saturday (she always did that) and went out with the pug dog to do her business. When she came back to the house she stopped on the patio outside the door, fell, and her soul floated off. The pug dog barked at her and nosed at her, but Lucky was no longer there. She had crossed the Rainbow Bridge and even now is playing with Suzi Q, Jack, and Emma.
Lucky, Lucy, Noah

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Reliving my history

Moammar Gadhafi was killed today. All day long I’ve been reliving the fear he brought to me and my family 25 years ago. And I’m sure that’s small compared to terrors he’s wrought upon people in his own country.

25 years ago, I was a military wife with young children. We lived in Berlin, at that time an occupied territory as it had been since the end of WWII. Berlin was a city where many people came for political asylum, and there were many Libyans in the city, especially on the east side of the Wall.

April 6th is carved in my memory, as the day of the bombing at La Belle discotheque. I’ve never been there, but lots of our soldiers and airmen went there. The bomb was hidden under a table, and when it blew up, U.S. Sergeant Kenneth T. Ford and a Turkish civilian woman were killed instantly. A second American, Sergeant James E. Goins, died from his injuries two months later. 230 people were injured.

37 military members were awarded the purple heart in a ceremony on Memorial Day that year, in accordance with an Executive Order made in 1984 by President Ronald Reagan authorizing the Purple Heart for military members injured as a result of terrorist actions. I was a Cub Scout leader, and we took the pack to the ceremony at Clay Headquarters. It was a sobering event, and one I hope the kids still remember. The online archived Berlin Observer takes me back to that day like it was yesterday. The Observer lists the names of the Purple Heart recipients on page 12.

On April 15th of 1986, I woke to AFN (Armed Forces Network) radio reports that President Reagan had ordered a bombing of Libya in retaliation. What followed was a period of highest security, to protect against potential further Libyan action. Berlin American High School, where I taught, was surrounded by tanks. One of our biggest problems as teachers was keeping the girls from going out and flirting with the 40th Armored tank soldiers.

Each of the school buses that carried the American kids across the city was assigned 2 armored jeeps (front and back). Lining up all those buses and their jeeps (who would NOT leave their bus) was a real challenge.

The elementary school had infantry soldiers guarding all the doors. They inspected every backpack and lunch box that entered – and critiqued the kids’ lunches (to their delight).

It was quite a time. Vehicles were inspected for potential car bombs driving in and out of military installations and housing. And yes, there were a number of bombs. One day I saw one explode in a parking lot.  Whenever we found an unattended parcel anywhere, we called the military police, and they dispatched weapons experts. I still experience paralyzing fear when I find backpacks in the library – and yes, I do take precautions. It’s funny how we become the sum total of all our experiences.

Memorial Plaque

Memorial plaque reading, "In this house on the 5th of April, 1986, young people were murdered by a criminal bomb attack"

 

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Thinking about a booksale

Garage sales, tag sales, thrift sales . . . sales of used items have a lot of names. Whatever you call them, they’re lots of work, and often even fun. One person’s trash is another person’s treasure, and while the seller rejoices in cleaning house, the buyer enjoys a new find – often at a bargain price.

Our library just finished another booksale today – a garage sale of books. Or in our case, a basement sale, since the sale took place in the basement of a library. We haven’t had one in quite some time, and we found out the public really missed the sale. The first day we sold the items at a unit price. The second day was a bag sale. Tonight, there are very few books remaining that will be donated.

Throughout the sale, I watched people pouring over the tables of books, so weighted down I’m surprised they didn’t bend even a little. Almost everyone bought something, and most left with their arms full and smiles on their faces. What they were purchasing has been in the libraries, sometimes for years. They could have checked it out over and over. But there’s something special about taking books home when they’re yours. There’s something magical about owning books, and it appears for lots of folks, the more books the better. Tonight I’m imagining those people, emptying their bags and lining up their books.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about book format and ownership in the last few months. A marketing explosion by E-book vendors has pushed us into a world for which I’m not ready — and our library budget isn’t fully prepared. But here we are, staring E-book service in the face. Buying E-books is at the expense of our print budget. The media and sellers of E-books tell me “don’t worry, all the public wants is E-books anyway.” But as I watched those people, delighted with their purchases, I have to wonder. Is there such a thrill in ownership of E-books? Can I line them up? Can I admire them? Can I feel smarter just by being in their presence? Can I impress my guests by my walls of recorded knowledge? Or even more importantly for me and my family and friends, can I walk to the shelf in my home and pull down a tome and offer it to another person, thereby sharing the joy I found in reading it?

I haven’t settled my mind about the whole E-book phenomenon. It’s probably the first time in the technology revolution that I’ve found myself in the hanging back crowd. I do have an E-reader (of sorts). I have Kindle installed on my Droid cell phone. And I must admit that I’ve enjoyed having a book at hand on my Droid, especially when I was waiting – for a pizza, or a train to pass, or to be called into the doctor’s office. I even liked the backlit screen I could easily read while driving at night (actually, I was the passenger). But all my serious reading thus far has been print.

I’m still pondering all of this. I think the book to be written about E-books is only in its early draft stage. As a library leader, I embrace the challenge of providing what the public wants (today) and marvel at the capabilities of the devices. As a person, I worry over the possible sociological impact of the loss of the sharing of a physical object.

As for me at the book sale? Nope, I didn’t buy any. But, my husband and I made a side trip to our wonderful independent local book-seller. I bought a new book and he bought a used book. Sigh. Need to think about expanding our bookshelves.

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Dinosaur and Dewey

I was looking at an AquaBrowser installation of one of the regional library systems, using their administrative headquarters as my searching location. I entered the term “dinosaur”  (I always use “dinosaur” when I do test searches). I was presented with a list of results, with a word cloud on the left of what AquaBrowser calls “related terms.” I selected from the word cloud the term “encyclopedia.” In the resulting list was the title Dewey decimal classification and relative index. . . . And I started with dinosaur . . . .

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