Booknotes

I spent yesterday afternoon at the fancy new Central Minneapolis Library (you know--the one I mentioned here). It was the grand opening, and I signed up to volunteer during the day's activities. You could choose to be duly impressed by my sense of civic responsibility, but as I gave only four hours of my time, I don't think I'll be winning any awards from the Mayor anytime soon. As with so many things in my life, I'm taking baby steps on this. I have lofty intentions of perhaps giving of my time more regularly to worthy causes such as the library, but clearly fear of commitment isn't just for men--I want to connect with my community, but not, apparently, if it cuts into my sitting-around time or forces me to talk to strangers for any length of time.

Regardless, even with my only four-hour commitment, I have to admit to a few ulterior motives. I liked the idea of getting to see the library before it opened to the public; I so often feel like a disoriented fool in unfamiliar surroundings, so I thought it would be nice to get the tour and learn my way around before I attempt to find anything in that enormous building on my own. I'll also admit that since I'm single and am supposed to be in "always looking" mode, it occurred to me that a library volunteer shift might be a good place to meet a nice, interesting, bookish man. At the very least, I'd hoped for some good blog fodder from the day.

As it turns out, my pre-Opening Day tour wasn't as helpful as I'd hoped. During my shift, I was able to direct someone to the on-site Dunn Brothers coffee shop, but I failed to have a confident answer to the rather basic question of "Is there more than one staircase on this floor?"

It's probably also no surprise that the idea of meeting someone at the event didn't pan out for me, either. The young woman I was paired with during my shift was very nice, but she's obviously not a potential date for me. She did mention an affinity for a type she called "shy, bearded boy," so perhaps I should have considered her a prospect for a shy, bearded friend of mine*, but she also told me the dirtiest "I had the weirdest dream last night" story I've ever heard, so frankly, I'm not sure my friend is ready for her.

On the plus side, I did get a free t-shirt (which would be more exciting if I were more the t-shirt-wearing type), a coupon for a free coffee beverage on a future visit, a library coffee mug and book bag, and some tasty snacks and bottled water. I did not, unfortunately, get a lot of blog fodder. Judging from the stories I've heard from my librarian friend, I really thought I'd meet a few crazies and pervs who would prompt some interesting tales to tell. The best I've got, however, is the woman who was sincerely concerned about the newspapers and periodicals being placed on the third floor, rather than on the first floor, where they'd be more easily accessible to the homeless people. Mind you, she wasn't commending the library on their choice to move the newspapers and thereby discourage loitering vagrants; she was disappointed that the library had made it more cumbersome for vagrants to amble in and sit down for a read. I'm not by any means suggesting we turn our backs on the plight of the homeless, but that particular argument was one I really just couldn't wrap my head around.

I could also tell you about the famous librarians throughout history that the library had on hand to wander the floors during the opening, but sadly, they didn't provide a lot of interesting anecdotes either. Batgirl and J. Edgar Hoover were in the break room together for an awfully long time, but despite rumors I've heard about Hoover, he didn't come out wearing Batgirl's leotard, so I don't have much else to say about him. Elvis made what was likely his first and last appearance in a Minneapolis public library, but he spent more time chatting with Marcel Duchamp than swiveling his pelvis, so I've got no stories there, either. Perhaps it was Lao Tzu who had the most interesting things going on, but he had such a thick accent that he may as well have been speaking Chinese. I smiled and nodded whenever he spoke to me, but the way he giggled in response made me wonder if, like Kenny on South Park, he was actually spewing obscenities and telling dirty jokes and getting away with it undetected. I just hope he wasn't working the children's floor.


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* Yes, Greg, I'm talking about you.