Highs and Lows

There are lots of different varieties of librarian in the wild. Mostly, they are suited to their surroundings, like most creatures in the animal kingdom. Ones who work in corporate oil company libraries most likely field questions about oil and companies. Ones who work in old South American country archives most likely field questions about politics and militaries and spanish (or something). I work in a university library, where any question is valid. This is because people study or research any kind of topic, and legitimize them by attaching them to very vague aspects of culture or language or society or some other kind of ridiculous means that enables a grown person to spend countless hours looking up information on the colors in children's books. I'm not laying a judgement here, at all. I think that's great.

So, one of the perks of my job is entertaining these people in their efforts to find obscure and random information. We could spend hours on something, unless is gets boring, and then the patron is screwed. The problem is, when do you say when? It's really a personal choice. I suppose the professional stance is after a reasonable amount of sources have been checked and you leave them with at least one follow-up lead. But c'mon.

Today I helped another librarian, because the place was dead, search for an obscure Muppet character. The lady insisted she had seen an early 1960's character on a Late Night-type talk show named "Fundinella Grindersnatch." Well, after a few mintues of solid searching, nothing came up. We found some history of Jim Henson and his first short program called "Sam and Friends" which aired before one of those late night shows. We also found a character named "Taminella Grinderfall." That sounds like the reasonable answer. Right?

Nope. Our patron was sure that she had the name right. Hmmm. Well, let's keep going, I guess. It turns out the character was a witch. So was Taminella. She had a "political pot" which she stirred. So did Taminella. When to say when? The lady had to leave to catch a ride, so I was spared. We tried to find a good biography or history of the muppets for this lady, but it turns out she was just curious, and it didn't really matter. That might have upset a lesser librarian. But I got paid to spend a lot of time researching the Muppets, so what kind of jerk would I be to complain?

You can never prove a negative. We couldn't prove that Fundinella didn't exist. But we had reasonable evidence that this other character was what she wanted. Sometimes our persuasive powers aren't too great. But that's not our job.

If that was a perk, here is a downer. Sometimes, during a lull in desk action, we librarians get to talk to one another. And sometimes I lay down the funny like no one's business. I get a good phrase in my head and I'm racing to deliver it in just the right way. Oh man, I'm a freakin' genius and my colleagues are going to keel over when the find out. They are rapt with attention. Hanging on each delicate word. [Sound of needle scratching a record.] Suddenly a patron comes out of nowhere looking suspiciously like he has a question. Sigh.

By the time we are done professionally servicing this dude, the moment is passed and we are all onto other things. My almost-genius is exactly that. Almost. But do I harbor any ill will towards that random, innocent person?

You bet I do.

If I Were Rich

In these lean times, when the economy isn't feeling so good, I tend to dream a little more often of good times with money that I'll never have. Why now? You'll have to ask a therapist, because I can't break into that vault upstairs and ask around; I'm not allowed anymore.

So, what would I do with tons of money, literally? Suppose I had enough to go a restaurant without prices on the menus? Or maybe enough to spit in people's faces? I wouldn't do that, even if I could. Some strange man did that to me in Spain once, and I didn't care for it. I took a little solace knowing he was crazy and did it to as many people he could.

OK, for starters, I would buy a country mansion, Count of Monte Cristo-style. Just walk right up with a wagon load of gold and force someone to move. But I would need to make it my own. Since I'm rich, I wouldn't care what anyone thought, so I would put in an ornate and extensive library. That would satisfy my need to have many useless and fancy things along with an endless supply of reading material just in case I have to board myself up after the zombie apocalypse.

But this house would need other stuff, too. Lots of underground tunnels. If you ever wonder if you have enough, just remember - you can never have enough. I'm sure there's a formula that civil engineers use to determine the maximum area before the surface starts to cave in. But I'm not an engineer, so that doesn't apply to me. These tunnels will need to go to all kinds of out buildings and caves.

So I would need some out buildings and caves. These could be used for storage of dangerous things, like dynamite. I would need that for all of the old barns I would move onto my property and blow-up. Why do this? Isn't that unnecessary and dangerous and destructive and juvenile? Well, yes. But I'm rich, remember? And if I don't do it, then who will?

A few other things I would add are some ponds with row-boats and pavilions, groves with an array of tree houses, and a gymnasium. The gym is just to have safe place to practice all of the dangerous and ill-advised parkour I would perform over the grounds. I'm sure there are many other things that a well-appointed country estate should have and any real gentleman would not be caught dead without. And of course I would have those too, naturally. I'm not an ogre.

Well, now I'm back to reality. Back to my dingy apartment with that leak in the shower and only condiments in the fridge. I suppose I could make a goal of earning lots of money over many years and making these day dreams come true. I could, but I would probably just spend it on plane tickets and film scores, which is fine by me.

The Thin Man

Several years ago I stumbled across an old movie, The Thin Man, during an extended bout of thirties film watching. The fantastic thing about that decade is the abundance of wit. Dialogue cracks like a dried forest floor under foot. Characters are sharp and it's fun to try and keep up. Many of the screwball comedies of that day are still funnier than anything you are likely to see today. The Thin Man is a comedy, but of the more urbane kind. It is also a classy murder mystery.

But it has something else going for it - chemistry. The two leads, William Powell and Myrna Loy, were born into this earth to play those characters together. I haven't seen any other incarnations of Nick and Nora, but I can be almost positive that comparatively they are like oil and water. Powell and Loy, as Nick and Nora, are one of cinema's dearest treasures. Not like a baby your grandma coos after, but more like a big bucket full of diamonds and bars of gold.

This brings me to my other discovery, which is that a lot of people don't know about this movie, or the many that followed. They produced five sequels, in rapid succession, over a period of eleven years, all almost as good as the one before. I haven't done the research, but I wager they were pretty popular at the time. But now they are largely forgotten.

I say largely, because I'm comparing this stuff to It's a Wonderful Life, Gone With The Wind, or Casablanca. Sure, these are all different kinds of movies, but I believe they all belong in the same category of "well worth your time, anytime." But I'm not concerned with why they fell out of the limelight.

What impresses me is the few who have heard about them and love them to pieces. I find more and more people all the time. Like any unpopular but totally awesome thing, it's like you belong to a secret society. Sure, mostly it is older people, but sometimes it's people my age. Usually we are all surprised about the discovery. Like we all went to the same out of the way bar that only sells Orange Whips three at a time.

Anyway, if you haven't seen this movie, do your self a favor and check it out.

And wear formal attire when you do.


Nora Charles: You know, that sounds like an interesting case. Why don't you take it?
Nick Charles: I haven't the time. I'm much too busy seeing that you don't lose any of the money I married you for.