Egrets and regrets

Welcome to my longest post ever (first apology), and yes, more birds, but no pix. I finally got to see an egretling, or at least a juvenile egret. It was sort of one of those nature show things, though. The young egret was apparently injured. Maybe a broken leg? On the lawn near my office. In any case, the other egrets had turned on it, and been pecking at it. All this less than 20 yards from my library, i.e., in full sight of staff and customers. It has been going on for about a week, my staff told me yesterday afternoon.

Earlier in the week, a staff member went to the Parks office next door. They told her that they knew about the bird already, that there was nothing to be done, and they wished people would stop asking about the bird already. Right. Well, another of my staff members went and asked at the Community Center yesterday. They said there was nothing they could do, and gave her a phone number for Project Wildlife. She came back and shared the info with me. I called what turned out to be their hotline. I told them about our feathered friend. They asked suggested we put a box over the bird, and call someone in El Cajon (7 miles away). I still didn't know who or what Project Wildlife was, but they at least seemed to care.

I called the person in El Cajon, and got voicemail. The outgoing message said that if you were calling about Project Wildlife, to leave a message and someone would call back in under one hour. Indeed, about twenty minutes later, someone called back. She said she could assist, but that the bird needed to be transported to the care center in Mission Beach (about 25 miles). She also asked if we had talked to Jeff in the park. I said, “young guy, red hair?” She said no, older man, brought her two herons from Lindo Lake (our lake) earlier in the week. So my staff member went off again to the community center. Turns out there are two Jeffs. The older one is a volunteer. We asked if they could call and give him a message to call the library. Before I left for the day, with the help of our branch family who did not give up, transport to the care center had been arranged for the poor little egret.

I am already thinking of getting a speaker from Project Wildlife in for a program at my library--the biblio connection for this post, at last. I want to connect my library to our incredible setting, besides admiring it from the windows. Plus, I have a stated goal to improve relations between the community center, Parks, and the library. So that just got reinforced big time.

Now for the regrets. (I know, an injured baby bird wasn’t enough?) On Tuesday, I received an email message from a former boss at MFPOW. We had a good relationship, and this was not my first message since moving here. However, this message, to paraphrase, said, “so sorry to hear about your diagnosis.” I was completely astounded. So far, I’d only told one person, let’s call her Dee, connected to MFPOW about the diagnosis. Dee is one of my closest, dearest friends. We talk by phone usually once a week. She is kindness itself from the get-go, and includes the entire planet in her sphere of influence. Maybe the universe.

So my still-addled-by-steroids brain said, Dee must have told someone. I could see that she might need someone to talk to about it. I also quickly “concluded” that Dee told someone we both know who is not evil, but a gossip, and who now works under my former boss. So I worked this all out, and called Dee, to basically accuse her of betraying my confidence. Dee said she hadn’t said anything until someone else came to her (the gossip) and said, with hurt, “why didn’t you tell me?” OK, my theory is shot to pieces, and Dee is very upset. Excellent. Dee and I talked lots more, with me saying “not to worry, love you”, etc., and Dee saying “sorry, maybe I did say something, sorry” and similar circles.

I get off the phone and check Gmail. I had emailed another friend in Philly, Babylon Sister, yesterday morning, saying the news was all over MFPOW, and had she spoken to anyone? I knew her connection to MFPOW was mainly moi, so I didn’t think she was the loose lips. She, in her wisdom, emailed back and said “Hello?!? You put it in your blog, dimwit.” OK, she was too nice to say dimwit. So let me indulge in a little self-excoriation: twit, idiot, horrible person, loca loca loca, stupid fool, egregious example (ok, who saw that coming? X(), with vulgarisms sprinkled on top.

It would be handy to blame the steroids, the insomnia, the “disease.” No, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I still want to curl up and shrivel into ash when I think about accusing Dee of betraying me. I am thinking that there should be a way I can combine hubris with chutzpuh . Chubris, anyone? Nevermind, I already got there, didn't I?

It does sort of beggar the imagination how I did not imagine that anyone at MFPOW would still be following my blather. I knew there were still people out there in the wide, wide world with B-cubed in their aggregators. But they/you were at some kind of remove from real life. I know you exist. Hell, Mock Turtle and I met in real space in New Orleans and had a great time, at least I did. I have been a bit worried that I have been enjoying a manic episode. I am happy, for Pete’s sake. The world is a wonderful place. The Supreme Court ruled against the tribunals at Guantanamo! I need very little sleep. I spent every piece of folding money I took to New Orleans. (Well, that was according to plan.) There’s definitely been some logorrhea, verbal and written. All of this spelled mania to me. I asked the neurologist I saw on Thursday about it. She actually laughed.

So, I remain so sorry. I called Dee back halfway through reading Babylon Sister's message. Dee, of course, forgave me instantly (she already had, because she is proof that humans can be completely good). She was just relieved to know how the info had “leaked.” Oh, those loose, loose lips. Like I never read any of the many postings out there about mixing up real life and confidential info with blogging. I want to officially apologize to the world, and the biblioblogosphere, somehow. It’s weird to say that blogging and blogs have been such a comfort to me this year. But it is true. In the “we read (and write) not to be alone” category.

I may indeed cross the lines of personal and professional again. I can no longer think of the two as so divorced. Part of the reassessment I am engaged in and will no doubt drone on about anon. I librarian (noun form). I library (verb). I librarianly (adverb). (Attending ALA Annual always hypes up my inner biblioness. And from now on, I will succumb to the temptation of parentheticals as much as I want.) I will be more mindful of what I am doing/saying, I think. I will not discount who may or may not reading this. It only just yesterday occurred to me that my staff and boss may easily follow the profile on LKNOLA here. So, hello and welcome to anyone out there from MPOW! (Have I said anything to offend? Probably. But not with that as the goal.) It is a package deal, folks. Me, the chubris, maybe some humility and humus on the side? I will continue the biblioblather. Thanks for reading.