Presidents as People

DISCLAIMER: The original illustration accompanying this post was a photo of Air Force One in flight. I replaced that photo with an image of the book jacket, but Bing still directs folks here to see the plane. Sorry... but you could stay and read...

Another good book jumped into my hands a while back. Air Force One, by Kenneth Walsh, gives recollections and impressions of every president who has relied on air travel during his term of office. (Should that read "every sitting president?") The book gives fascinating glimpses behind the formal facades of protocol and politics.

Among those men whose presidencies I personally recall, a few insights were significant to me. Gerald Ford, Everyman, wanted each of the stewards to serve him in turn so that he could get to know each of them better. Ronald Reagan maintained high standards of personal appearance, donning casual workout clothes in flight so that his suits wouldn't wrinkle. Bill Clinton was a night owl and loved to have an audience.

A few years ago, my family and I toured a retired presidential aircraft at the Boeing Museum of Flight. One of the anecdotes told by a docent stuck with me. Lyndon Johnson enjoyed every bit of control he could garner, and used a height-adjustable desk to his advantage. (Imagine sitting at the children's table while the President of the United States towers over you in his elevated chair!) He also liked to set the cabin's thermostat so that others might not get too comfortable. (The crew eventually disconnected the wiring so he only thought he was controlling it.)

Air Force One is a venue both private and public. The impressive plane has often been used as a stunning backdrop for photographs. When airborn, security measures were more relaxed than anywhere else the president could visit. Conversations flowed, meals were served, movies watched, and some social conventions could be dropped. This book is a wonderful introduction to the men who have held the most amazing position of power in the world.

Rufus Will Never Be a Nurse

It's too bad that Blackie is so old and immobile. Her performances as the family nanna are legend. Rufus, on the other paw, hides from the sound of illness. The best medicine he offers is a constant and thorough licking, which is not usually appreciated by the patient. That said, Rufus has done well as a nighttime companion, encouraging sleep and modeling it quite effectively.

I have always been afraid of the words "brain injury". The last seven months have brought one head injury and two concussions into our family experience. The first injury, a framing hammer falling on my son's head, did not result in a concussion but did require stitches in a foreign clinic. The second one, a concussion, was scary but that son healed quickly without complications. This third injury, to the third son, was much worse. Full emergency response, hours in a hospital emergency room, several days in the hospital, and now home. Thankfully, we have not seen significant personality changes or memory loss beyond what seems to be normal for a teenaged boy.

Okay, so now that we've covered each of the boys with a bonk on the head, we're ready to be done with this chapter. I realized during an outing yesterday that my sudden and absolute need to return to my son's side was either (a) mother's intuition or (b) an anxiety attack. It doesn't matter which it was, the effect was that I was compelled to cease all conversation, get in my car, and drive straight home. I didn't even bother to call first to check, I just had to be there.

Yes, I have been praying for my sons, before each event as well as after. God is ever present. Things happen. But God is good and He has ultimate control. He will not necessarily suspend the natural laws of the universe just so His children will not have to experience pain, but He is near. How can one make a logical argument for the sovereignty of God in the midst of emotional upheaval? For me, right now, that doesn't matter. I can't explain it, but I trust Him to carry us through the accidents of dropped hammers, slick floors, and uncontrollable skateboards. And more.

Even if Rufus can't wear a nurse's cap, God is there.

What's Tomorrow?

I've been working a lot of extra hours lately, and the dogs haven't been very happy about it. They like having me at home, sitting quietly with them or doing exciting things that involve going up and down the stairs. (Laundry has never seemed that interesting to me, but I guess there's always a chance we might come across a piece of raw meat or some stale cookies that need to be eaten.) Anyway, it must be boring to be stuck at home all day without Someone With Opposable Thumbs here for entertainment.

A couple of times, I have tried to tell the dogs that I would be home with them "tomorrow" and we'd play and nap and whatever then. But they don't have a concept of what tomorrow is, so my promise goes right over their furry heads. I meant well, but was unable to provide any consolation to my canine friends as I walked out the door to go to work again.

There's a story about some other folks who didn't fully grasp the concept of "tomorrow." These guys had a friend who said he had to go away, but would be back soon. When he went away, they couldn't go with him. He knew they would miss him terribly, but he had to leave -- really leave. It was going to look permanent, but he promised to return.

When he left, and they saw him go, they were absolutely convince that he was gone for good. Gone. Dead gone.

Another Link

Double meaning intended. One of the topics I often read about is blindness. Last fall, I saw a book by Stephen Kuusisto, a professor at the University of Iowa. The title grabbed my attention -- Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening. He is a poet, and to me, poetry is like GrapeNuts. I can only partake of it in small batches, and it takes a long time to chew. But, the batches I read were very interesting, and I mulled over each of them for days before reading the next one.

Mr. Kuusisto also writes a blog, and he recently posted a link to an op-ed piece he wrote for the New York Times regarding the new governor of New York. This reads so well, so easily, that I wanted to share it with others. In my humble opinion, it's an excellent but succinct introduction to the world of blindness. Please give it a read and tell me what impresses you.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/14/opinion/14kuusisto.html?_r=2&ref=todayspaper&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

These Are Trained Professionals

Much of our time for the first several days in the "new" building was spent putting things on the shelves, looking at the boxes that remained, adjusting the items on the shelves, and then trying to fit the rest of the materials on the shelves. This meant a lot of shifting, accomplished by teams of two to six people, handful by handful, over and over. It's hard to stay focused when confronted by thousands of books, thousands of books, needing to be moved to another place on the shelves, thousands of books, handful by handful. Thousands of books, and more in boxes, needing to be placed on the shelves. It boggles the mind.

It reminded me of a video I saw many years ago. This should have been our professional training video, viewed before we set foot in the door of our new building. It's too bad we couldn't have watched it beforehand, but we came pretty close to the high standards of conduct and efficiency it portrays. Watch and learn...

Modern Marvels -- Library Edition

Much time and energy are now being consumed by the process of moving back into a remodeled and expanded library building. There just isn't enough "juice" left to hold onto more than one coherent thought, so how about we just give up and explore the new building? Since my camera phone is stinking slow and has pitiful-little memory, this is the only image I could capture. Just kidding. The decor of the remodel is very contemporary -- we auctioned off the dusty old nooks and crannies on Ebay -- and this is one of the outstanding features of the new look. There are six of these fabric art pieces suspended from the beams of our ceiling, hovering over librarians and patrons alike.

Another feature is the Great Hall, a wonderfully large open area in the center of the building. Here's a view looking north. You can also see a couple of the motherships in this photo. Impressive, eh? And in the background, the same beautiful windows we've always had, although the fire marshall required the removal of several of our prize fir trees.

It's exhausting and invigorating to move. There is a lot of work still to do, as we've only been in the building three days now. I'm not counting, but I think we are due to open to the public in less than a week... One of the exciting features in our revamped back room is a computerized check-in and sorting system. Several of the libaries already have these, but ours is the first to have windows for the public to be able to (kind of) watch what's happening when they slip their materials into the bookdrop. I haven't tried to take any photos of it yet, because the back room is full of boxes and carts and things we don't know what to do with yet. But there's a terrific video of the Really Huge Automated Materials Handling Process at our system-wide shipping facility. This video is quite interesting, so here it is:

Reading the Owner's Manual

A while back, I remarked about how I don't remember actors' names, I know nothing about their "personal" lives, and I can't keep track of anyone's film credits. A well-meaning companion said, "But you study your Bible and know much more about it than most people." Wow. That was intended to be a compliment or an encouragement, so why did it leave me feeling flat?

It's good to read the Bible, to know what it says. If you're interested in old, really old, literature, there's cultural and historical information for you. If you're into debate, you can easily find someone to wrangle over questions of authorship, dates, or content. But this all sounds incredibly dry. It reminds me of kids being quizzed about the names and reigns of Old Testament kings. I don't mean any disrespect, but who cares? Reading the Bible just to read the Bible seems about as attractive as thumbing through the old owner's manuals in the photo. History, culture, and maybe some practical instructions... Dry, dry, dry.

Having said that, I must admit that I'm in the process of reading through the Bible. The whole thing, cover to cover. I think I started about four years ago, and I'm somewhere in the middle now. A long time ago, I embarked on my first read-it-in-a-year plan. I've tried to do it a few times, but never came close to reaching that goal. One of the problems for me is that I can't just read it. If I find something that gives me pause, I have to work it over and write about it. I'm sure I wouldn't remember what I skim over in a daily reading assignment, but I can always look back over my journal entries and feel the WOW again. And this has given me lots to hang on to, to chew on later, so it's worth plodding along.

In some recent plodding, I came across a familiar little passage that seems to fit here:

Thus says the Lord, "Let not a wise man boast of his wisdom, and let not the mighty man boast of his might, let not a rich man boast of his riches; but let him who boasts boast of this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the lord who exercises lovingkindness, justice, and righteousness on earth; for I delight in these things," declares the Lord.

Okay, so it doesn't matter to Him if I don't know who Brangelina is, or what she wore to the awards show (they had one recently, right?), or if I'm two seasons behind on a certain sitcom. I'm hoping it also doesn't matter to Him if I read His book with a seven-year plan. My purpose in reading the Bible is to know God better. Sometimes I laugh, many times I cry, and then I just shake my head. He's so different than anyone else I know. I like knowing Him, experiencing Him, and reading about His doings.

I think I'll keep those old owner's manuals. They'll give my sons something to laugh at, ten years from now.

Railroad Nostalgia

One of the reasons I love working in libraries is that I get to see what other people are reading. Don't ask me to tell you all about the latest novel by a best-selling author, because I never seem to remember to get my name on the waiting list before publication. (I think I'm number 947 on the list to get a copy of Sue Grafton's T is for Trespass.) But I've learned to let other people do the legwork for me, and I come across the most interesting books just by chance.

I picked up a copy of Gary Krist's White Cascade when I noticed its binding was broken. Right in the center of the book, where the photographic pages were inserted, it was coming apart. Since I had the book open, the photos caught my eye, and I had to see what it was about. Turns out, this fiction writer from Maryland stumbled across news accounts of a train disaster in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest in 1910, and he was hooked. There was a tremendous snowfall that winter that ended up blocking the track and stranding a trainload of travelers high in the Cascades. They begged to be moved to a safer spot, but there didn't appear to be anyplace to go. Besides, what were the chances of an avalanche coming down on that particular spot? This was a great read, and the suspense of waiting for the storm to subside gave me chills for many nights.

A couple of weeks after I finished that book, I saw a wonderful collection of photos taken by former Northern Pacific telegrapher and dispatcher Jim Fredrickson. Railroad Shutterbug contains not only photos, but the stories behind them. Looking through the book will make you want to pull out an old map, unless your old Washington geography skills are very sharp.

The dogs don't care much for books, by the way, but they're happy that I'm willing to sit with them and read for a few hours on a cold Saturday.

If the Dogs Had Been There

An alternate title for this post might be, "East Meets West" or maybe "Whose Work Site Is This Anyway?" Back in December, I had opportunity to go inside the jail where Mark spends much of his time. Oh -- but I went in with a guarantee that I'd be able to leave at the end of the day. And, I was being paid to be there. My library system has a contract to provide services at the Regional Justice Center, and it was a privilege to do a short job-shadow with the women who work there.

If the dogs had been there, they would have had their tails between their legs much of the time. The hallways are wide, Spartan, and loud. Cement block walls and linoleum floors don't make for gentle acoustics. No decoration, no moving parts (except the doors), nothing to soften the experience. On top of that, you can't help but constantly monitor your personal boundaries.

One section of wall had a horizontal metal tube attached to it. It looked like a restroom grab bar, except it was at shoulder height. Next to it was a sign reminding the officers how many inmates should be chained to the bar. There were no windows, except in the library itself. And the view from there? An enclosed parking area -- and blessed sky above. Stark, eh?

If the dogs had been there, Rufus would have tried to run. Away, away, out from that echoing, harsh place. Blackie would have pushed her way into a warm corner, if she could. Staying in the library might have been fine for her, and forget that call of nature.

But in the library, vigilance was not so necessary. Officers were invited to share Christmas goodies and conversation during a break. The library employees efficiently process the inmates' requests, discerning from brief descriptions just what kinds of materials are being sought. In the cafeteria, more conversation flowed, and there was relaxation and even laughter. There are times when all vigilance is required, and there are times when one must loosen up. These are real people with hearts and lives outside of their jobs.

That night, I told Mark I wouldn't have the energy to work in that place every day like he does. "It's not that bad," he argued. No, not bad, just different. Sure, there are boundaries in my community library. And there are people who argue vehemently over 40-cent fines. But I'm used to that. And the dogs could find enough peace that they'd be okay there, most of the time. Except when those 40-cent voices are raised.

Don't Steal My Photos!

I just read a newspaper article about companies using random photographs from the Web in ad campaigns, without permission and without remuneration. Let it be said, if anyone steals this photo of my son (on the furthest starting block), they'll have to pay us BIG MONEY.

This photo of my very own son at the King County Aquatic Center is authentic, unlike the photo illustration the dogs used in their year-end post of family highlights. That really is Jon, in lane two, getting ready to begin one of today's races. It's possible that one of Pete's good friends is also in this photo, but I couldn't tell you where he might be.

What a beautiful facility this is. Waveless pool, big enough to have two complete swim meets happening at the same time, deep and blue and lots of fancy details. It was a great way to cap off the season.