Et al. Brutus

I occasionally do original cataloguing in my job and am aware that Marc 3 is dead and long live RDA. I have to admit, I have become very fond of ... et al.   It is a great convenience to use it to avoid listing all the authors of a work. Now to be au currant, I can no longer use Latin expressions. The apparent substitute is and (number) others. So the statement of responsibility is no longer Blatz, Kegger ... [et al.] but Blatz, Kegger and three others. The three others, forever standing in the wings, like Rosencrantz and Gildenstern awaiting their entrance.

I am a Luddite

http://hardtimesmrmustache.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-am-luddite.html may be of interest to librarians.

A busman's holiday

Last week a fireman knocked on my door and told me to vacate the building because there was a gas leak. I asked if I could put on my sneakers and luckily, he said yes. I got in my car drove around the fire truck and went to the local library. I figured it would be an hour or so (I was right) and that I could hang out at the local library, read my e-mails, etc.

The library is relatively pleasant. Lots of parking. The fact that fiction is on the second floor and non fiction is on the first floor has always led me to believe the library was designed by reference librarians. The public computers had some free ones (it was a summer evening) and it allowed me to log on with my library card. They also allow guest access. My only complaint is that the Internet starts up with the library web site. From there there are no apparent search engines. It has been my experience that a Google, Yahoo or Bing icon should always be on the desktop of a public computer. I had to go to the http bar to find that someone else had put in Yahoo and I clicked on it. I could even access Facebook, albeit without the chat feature.

After a while I went home, waited twenty minutes, and then was allowed into my unit. They are doing repair work and the workers hit a gas line.

New one coming

I will be posting a new blog The Sixties, Another Mr. Mustache blog. Starting May 1. The address will be http://sixtiesmrmustache.blogspot.com/

Mark Twain

Mark Twain ends Tom Sawyer with…
“SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a boy, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a man. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop -- that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can.”

And so with this blog. I wrote much of a few years ago when I was in the trenches of a public library and now that seems a different world, a world to which I will never return, unless as a retired part-timer in my dotage.

So fair reader, you now know all there is to know about library work. You know about patrons, volunteers, library directors, cataloguing, documents and most importantly, the politics of the break room. You can move into your own professions and careers now with the assurance that comes with having a virtual second masters degree, one gained by blogging. If you browse this blog, I recommend starting at the earliest postings. Men in libraries is a personal favourite of mine.

I will write another blog, or perhaps do a podcast someday. I think I shall call it Mustache Wax. The subject to be determined when the frost is on the pumpkins. In the meantime, you might enjoy the Yahoo group, Freddie and the Fellas. Til that time.

E Government

An article in Library Journal on line shows legislation for making libraries government via the web access centers. Didn't we used to call these government depositories?

Valentine's Day

For my entire childhood and on into early adulthood my father and I happily strolled through February with a smile on our faces, never having to think about what to give Mother for Valentine’s Day. My girlfriend, when I had one, might have gotten something but that was as far as it went. The thing that ruined it was that darn beauty parlor.

One February 14 Mother went to the beauty parlor and all the customers sat in their chairs bragging about all the things their husbands and their children were giving them for Valentine’s Day. One talked about the beautiful roses her son sent here from Florida. Another talked about the cruise her husband was taking her on for Valentine’s Day. The hairdresser was so pleased with the chocolates her son had given her that morning.

That night at dinner boy did we get it. “This one is getting a cruise. That one got an expensive watch. This one is going out to Le Freup a Tell in Manhattan. And what are you giving me?” My father looked surprised. He didn’t know he was supposed to give her something. He never had in the past and they all had been happy as clams at high tide.

He put his arms around her and said “All of my love”. That didn’t work. She looked at me.

I tried to rescue the situation. “But mother, Valentine’s Day isn’t for your mother! It’s for your girlfriend or your mistress!” That didn’t work either. From then, every year, we had to give her something for Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day. You’re just getting over the Christmas bills and along comes Valentine’s Day. And you have to give candy to your secretary and the ladies at work. More money coming out of the poor man’s pocket. Happy Valentine’s Day to all.