Keith Richards, Librarian?
From firstmausi, comes a link to a article showing off the home libraries of twenty celebrities, including Mr. Richards who would make, pun intended, a rocking librarian.
Click here to be amazed and envious.
All of these spaces are gorgeous, but I prefer the ones where it looks like their owners use them for reading as well as photo ops.
Perks to Being a Children’s Librarian
It takes a special person to be a Youth Services librarian, someone with infinite patience, kindness, shoestring-budget creativity, puppets, and a certain resistance to stress- based anuerysms.
Which is why, and I’m speaking from experience, I’m not one of them.
But you do get to do amazingly cool programs:
A Librarian’s Rainbow-Colored Nightmare
I’ll admit that when a patron asks me for “that one green book,” I can occasionally figure out which one is meant without any other information—seven out of ten, it’s the Township Atlas—and when I can’t leave the desk, I’ve directed people to the shelf “under that set of blue books right there.”
But seriously? Color is not a good basis for classifying books, even in a small, personal, single-subject library.
Case in point:
My FIL, who was a professor of mathematics, had huge textbook-stuffed bookcases lining his university office. The books and papers were organized by subject and class and a personal system of organized disorganization that had worked for him for years. He could reach out and snag whatever book he needed, almost without looking.
Once during a family gathering, I overheard him telling my Dad about the time he came back from a week-long conference to find that one of his grad students—an English major, it should be noted—had rearranged all his books by color and size.
According to my FIL, he sat down in his chair for a moment and when he had recovered his powers of speech, he looked at the young man and said, “All right. Very funny. Now put them all back where they were.”
He said the look on the kid’s face was almost worth it . . . but not quite.
How to Pass a Tax Levy
Do the ends justify the means? Hell, yeah.