A sentimental mixed bag

I know I've been a poor excuse for a blogger. I keep waiting for something upbeat to report. I am finally returning to work half-time next Monday, after being out on disability since February. I know it is commonplace in our culture for people to wish they didn't have to work. I think that goes against the librarianly grain. We like our jobs, in the main. It is so not me.

I have felt a keen sense of injustice. I was finally working in a beautiful (if small) facility, with a wonderful staff, and terrific administration. I had some great programs planned. So what happens? Somebody else gets to enjoy it. But I am over my pouting.

I am a little nervous about whether or not I will be of any use. I've been studying the bestseller lists. I've been doing crossword puzzles to sharpen the so-called wits. Do I still know Dewey? What if I have to do a lot of weeding? Can I lift a ton twenty pounds at a time? Then there's the handwriting! I have a left side tremor, and of course, I am left-handed. I can just write clearly enough to make out stuff for myself. The branch calendar will take two people. Will I ean the salary? My boss tells me she will be happy if I just sit and answer the telephone. But I won't. I LIKE to flit about. But I've been resting and napping to the nth degree. We shall see.

I have to put in a squibble about another death. I worry this blog could become my own version of celebrity death watch. But Bo Diddley was a man. I remember seeing him open for the Clash. I also saw him in a weird senior citizens show in Florida with Chuck Berry. He was a giant. When my apartment in NYC was burglarized in the early 80s, I tried to explain to the cops the importance of the LP on the turntable when it was stolen. It was a Chess label of Bo. I've looked for it for years, and never found it. I have most of the songs in Itunes, but I still have the album cover waiting for its mate.

Are You Out There?

I was innocently walking through the children's room. Actually, I was watching our artist paint our mural, which is turning out incredible (pictures soon, I think), and suddenly I spotted a book by Dar Williams on one of our new slat-wall displays.

Dar Williams? Are there two humans named that? Quick look at author bio confirms it is the singer-songwriter. I try to shed my fangirl nature, but I actually think Dar Williams is important. I encountered her and her music while I was in divorce transition. Actually, I saw her performance at a rather rinky-dink street fair. It was thundering and threatening rain, but she kept on standing on the little raised stage with her guitar, amplifier, and microphone. She was really pushing herself, explaining that one song was still a work in progress because she couldn't reach all the notes she wanted. Some of her songs really hit the nail on the head in terms of what my daughter and I were experiencing at the time: Are You Out There, When I Was A Boy.

Lights, Camera, Amalie is a middle school so-called "problem book", one of my favorite flavors. A good problem book can truly change your life. A few changed mine. Amalie's mother died while Amalie was very young. Her father has created an alternafamily of friends. Recently, he has been very ill, and the friends have been very active in co-raising Amalie. Suddenly, Amalie's mother's mother requests to meet her granddaughter for the first time. Amalie goes on the visit, taking a tape recorder and the oral history interview techniques she learned recently in her English class. Amalie is one smart girl.

Grandmom dies very soon after the visit. She has left Amalie a huge champagne Nebuchadnezzar that the grandmother filled with coins and receipts from over forty years of emptying pockets. When the money is counted (a story in itself), it comes to $2, 081.32. Of course, Amalie keeps the receipts, and they tell a bit of a story themselves.

Amalie sets out to make a movie over her summer vacation, using the inheritance. She wants to talk about endangered species. She enlists her friends, her dad and his friends, teachers, and it seems like most of New England. That's not true. If I have one bone to pick, the networking was just too easy. One person (or more) should have been mean and rotten and not helpful. A bit more conflict could have helped both the characterizations, plot, and maybe the dialogue.

This is pretty much a feel-good story, which is just fine. Amalie's inheritance from her grandmother turns out to be more than money. If reading books that slam home such themes is painful for you, then you shouldn't be reading middle school chapter books. But if you still enjoy reading something knowing how it is going to end long before the third chapter (and you romance readers know who you are), I can give you a good list. Amalie is not best of breed, but a good quality product. Dar Williams is a smart lady and this is a smart book. Now, I strongly suggest you go listen to The Babysitter's Here or I Won't Be Your Yoko Ono--more good stories, for all ages.