Tuesday, February 12, 2013

This Librarian's Ideal



Earlier this month most of us read or heard about the attempt to destroy medieval manuscripts held in trust for humanity by the citizens and librarians of Timbuktu.  Extremists, intent on eradicating the cultural heritage and communal history of those who participated in the golden age of Arabic and Medieval learning, attempted to burn or otherwise destroy the treasures of that intellectual era.

Fortunately, librarians, family guardians of personal collections, archivists in many of the mosques of Timbuktu, the Library of Congress’ digitization program, heroic citizens of Mali, and French warriors anticipated the vindictive fury and single mindedness of these mindless modern day barbarians.  Many thousands of pieces were smuggled out of the city on donkey carts.  A few were destroyed.

These treasures are irreplaceable and fortunately only a small proportion was physically destroyed. Many pieces had been digitized by forward thinking librarians; others held their preservation as a sacred duty passed through hundreds of generations by families who own private collections.  The manuscripts were protected as the privilege of family honor.  One for our side!

Victories have been few and far between as preservation of a people’s intellectual often meets a very different fate.  The physicality of books, manuscripts, and codex implies their fragility. Electronic media have uncertain permanence.  I can recommend the book The Universal History of the Destruction of Books by Fernando Baez and Alfred MacAdam to get a sense of a sometimes losing battle.

The biggest danger by far is man, especially the fanatics. Conquerors knew that the subjugation of a people required the destruction of the best their civilization has produced—ideas and narrative.  Libraries and archives are almost always targets of incoming barbarians who are intent on seeding the intellectual landscape of conquered peoples with salt.  Small victories do happen though.  Read the fictional account of a rare illustrated Hebrew work in Geraldine Brooks’ excellent People of the Book.

Miracles sometimes occur.  The Archimedes Codex by Reviel Netz and William Noel tells of the miraculous recovery of an unknown work of the Greek mathematician.  Although the scroll had been co-opted for a mediocre prayer book, modern technology was able to recover the greatness written on the palimpsest. Many other masterpieces of Western Intellectual Heritage were not so fortunate.   How many other libraries have been destroyed some in the name of religion, a few by librarians themselves?  How few have been saved?

Too few have been saved despite the aegis of dedicated librarians. Four of the chief tenets of librarianship are the Collection, Preservation, Organization and Dissemination of human knowledge in any form—paper or other media.  It is that secular sacred duty, the preservation of the seeds of knowledge that made the choice of profession for me.  If I could pass that information and means to knowledge on to others, if I could in some way preserve and protect a small portion of that heritage, then that was work worth doing.  Fiction and phone numbers aside, this was to be my real work. Every day I learned from information seekers, humbled by the vast expanse of my ignorance. What an immense intellectual world existed beyond my ken!  Every day I tried to become better, to learn more, to find the seeds of knowledge and to plant them in fertile minds.  In a career now over I hope that I helped a few. I know I fell far short, but that does not mean that the ideal does not persist.  The preservation of Timbuktu’s heritage sustains me; the heroes who risked their lives imbue me with hope.  They are my ideal and ideals are treasure beyond price.

Monday, January 28, 2013

To Be or Not To Be



 
Not the Hamlet quandary, rather, to be or not to be a Californian—that is the question. It has been just over a month since our return to SoCal, prompting our annual quest for the “perfect home,” knowing full well that in all likelihood the search will be inconclusive! We have pursued the question with vigor as is our wont.

My ambivalence about California persists. The weather has been a bit cooler than normal, but it is certainly not what is to be expected in the Midwest this time of year. We walk nearly every day, enjoying the sand and sea, filling our lungs with salt air, starting to get tan lines around watch bands and shirt sleeve borders.  Our grandchildren are growing, becoming individuals of interest and delight. We have the opportunity to see them nearly every week. The privilege of becoming a genuine part of their lives is sacred. Yet something about California living be whispers “be wary.”

Once again we have engaged the time of a realtor, although I feel guilty commanding a professional’s time when I could give her 1:20 odds against making the sale’s commission.  She has shown us dungeons and do-ups, but nothing that could prompt a bid.  The charming lady tells us that realtors have very little “product” to show; Orange County homes are selling like hot cakes once again. It is amazing to solid Mid-westerners that homes selling for 500-600 thousand have cardboard cabinet shelving and water heaters ready to begin a great conflagration.  

We have been encouraged to give Laguna Woods a second look. As I recall most of the very reasonably priced homes there hadn’t seen an interior decorator since 1952, or a cleaner in a decade. The sellers were either recently deceased, or sitting in wheelchairs manned by home health aides waiting to whisk them off to a nursing facility as soon as the ink was dry on the contract. Despite descriptions of golf courses and recreation buildings teeming with activities the leisure village for seniors was depressing, depressing, depressing—but cheap.

In a more venturesome mode we have also been looking at new homes. The construction industry in California is booming (take note all you investors).  I am interested in the Central Coast between Santa Maria and San Luis Obispo, hoping soon to make a visit to active lifestyle communities in the model homes stage. The smaller homes—and people our age need smaller—are fairly reasonable in this area of California. It is about 2.5 or 3 times farther from our grandchildren however which may or may not be a good thing. If we were to move to Orange County I’m afraid that we would always be second best to the girls’ California grandparents—lovely, loving people who have been a part of their lives since birth.

The quandary continues, uppermost in my mind is the query “Is it really too late for us to relocate?”  We are no longer young; our time has most probably past, and besides, who wants to have a mortgage in their 70s!  Frankly we are torn between the safety of our wonderful Midwest home or the risk of an uncertain future in a land long overdue for an earthquake.  The slings and arrows propagate exponentially… 

In all probability we will return to the Chicago area in March with the question unresolved, but not really unanswered.  Once again life will resume, all too quiet, searching for a place to rent next winter, choosing which snow shovel to use on the driveway, facing dreams discarded with a brave smile, acquiescing to sensibility, waiting for the home health aide.

Saturday, January 05, 2013

Westward Ho the Wagons!

We have been in southern California for 10 days. Although the weather so far is considerably cooler than last year it is warm by Chicago area standards.  We look forward to sunshine and sea breezes.

Our California family is thriving, always busy, constantly surprising.  Our granddaughters spent New Year's Eve with us beginning with dinner and ending with a 2013 breakfast.  I gave the girls rug hooking kits for Christmas and they had been working diligently at home while their dad read two Doyle and Fossey, Science Detectives books that were also part of their holiday loot. It is cute to see that they really still enjoy having a adult read to them while they work on a craft. 

They brought their rug kits with them for the overnight. However there were other exciting things to do, chiefly playing pick up sticks and learning to play Pounce, which is a group competitive form of solitaire. The older girl really got into the game, so much so that she fell off her chair trying to beat me to a card pile. No harm done, but she literally "threw herself" into the game.  Her younger sister was eager to text daddy to tell him. As soon as she typed "Dani is OK but"  we stopped her. Those four words would be enough for him to leave the restaurant or theatre and rush over.

Last Saturday we had a welcome to California dinner at C & O Cucina in Venice Beach. They serve the most delicious garlic buns and calamari!  Everyone had a tasty entree and a good visit. The service is extraordinary, the menu varied, and the prices reasonable. Couple that with fantastic Italian food and we were well and truly welcomed back to California. Tomorrow we will have a belated birthday dinner for my 17th birthday, although the girls are getting too good at math to swallow that number.

It's a good thing the weather has been fine for walking with all the celebrating. Hubby is eager to get into his shorts and short sleeved shirts, but when he tried it today we had to turn back early because the goosebumps were becoming too prominent! We are renting the place we used last year, which is three blocks from the beach, four from the Promenade shopping area, and very close to great restaurants--there I go with food again!

That's all for now. I'll waddle back soon to keep you up to date.  Keep warm Chicago!!

Monday, December 24, 2012

Christmas Reminiscence





Childhood Christmas – The Italian Christmas Eves of my childhood were huge gatherings of cousins, aunts, uncles, and Nonni.  Because meat was not allowed on this day, the feast—and it was a feast—featured all types of seafood, prepared by my Italian grandmother.  Succulent shrimp, copious calamari, and Pesce Abbondante tempted the revelers just back from visiting the incredibly beautiful crèche at St. Callistus’ Church down the street.  Sometimes we would leave early and hurry to my Irish grandmother’s home, replete with Uncle Jim’s aluminum Christmas tree lit with revolving spectra of color from his holiday light wheel. We’d arrive just in time to take my Grandmother to Midnight Mass. She especially loved the Christmas Mass with flowers, special hymns, and angels announcing the birth of the anointed babe. The Christmases of my childhood were filled with loving people, savory scents, and snow.

Old-Enough Christmas – When I was in second or third grade I became eligible to join my older girl cousins, aunts, and my mother on the special holiday trip to downtown Chicago at night. We would catch the nearby streetcar, bursting with expectations of an exciting evening spent at the Chicago Theater’s Christmas Stage Show.  How we laughed at Billy de Wolf and swooned over Dick Contino. The stage settings were glorious and the dancers dazzled.  The “girls” were having their special Christmas treat and I was old enough to join them!

Young Love Christmas – Hubby and I became engaged over Christmas break of my senior year in college, despite the embarrassing Christmas present mix-up when I mistakenly gave him the wrong gift—a pair of pink petti-pants intended for me! He, however, was not blameless in holiday protocol. During vacations I worked at the University Medical Center and he would pick me up when work was over.  He was there, earlier than usual and very nervous.  The reason?  He proposed marriage as soon as we got into his car. Unfortunately he was parked across the street from the Cook County Morgue—making me an offer I couldn’t refuse!

Our first Christmas as man and wife centered on our first real tree, strung with cranberries and popped corn. That first Christmas, in our very own apartment, glittered with holiday lights, the spicy smell of Christmas cookies, and a lifetime of love just beginning.

Christmas for the Children – Such excitement!  By the end of October the Sear’s Wish Book was well thumbed. Was there any toy my daughter didn’t want? With eager anticipation we planned the tree trimming party never knowing which was best, decorating the tree or being together for the treat-filled party afterward.  I baked all month!

The children surprised us with ornaments made at school and increased our trove of tree hangings with homemade shrink-dink figures of Snoopy and the gang. Each year our son destroyed another Styrofoam gingerbread man ornament, thinking that I wouldn’t notice. Keeping presents secure was a full time job. Each child tried to extort the other saying that they “knew what you are getting for Christmas.” Christmas morning discovered sleepy parents supervising the unwrapping. Dad prepared his special waffles for breakfast.

Empty Nest Holidays – There are no small children bursting with curiosity and anticipation now. There’s no real Christmas at all anymore. Our daughter, who adored Christmas, is dead. There are no children of hers to delight. And besides, cookies are unhealthy…

One must be careful about the holidays now for our remaining family does not celebrate Christmas; Hanukkah does not really belong to us. Even though our granddaughters enjoy “double dipping” it’s a time to tread carefully.  We try to recapture some of the magic for our girls however. One year we rented an apartment in Orange County for a lengthy stay. I sent out a small, artificial tree and asked if it would be OK for the girls to help us decorate it. The happy pair was excited to see the tiny tree. Dani had made a special ornament in school and the girl’s ballet teacher had given all her students special ballerina ornaments. The girls set to work on their task, carefully considering where to place each piece. This was all new to them. Finally the last ornament was placed and I laid the small red velvet tree skirt around the base. The early December darkness supplied the final touch. We turned off all the lights and then Grandpa plugged in the tree, the tiny lights dazzling young eyes. The oohs and aahs were all the presents I needed to make my spirits bright. The Holidays of their childhood will be filled with loving people, savory scents, and no snow.  Let’s bake some cookies, organic of course.


Merry Christmas and a Healthy, Happy New Year.

Saturday, December 08, 2012

Spies, Lies, and Intelligence



We’ve been doing some traveling this autumn.  Our first trip was to the nation’s capital, Washington D.C. The theme of the Road Scholar program we attended was “Spies, Lies, and Intelligence: the Shadowy World of International Espionage.”  This was our twentieth program with the Road Scholar organization (formerly known as Elderhostel) and we haven’t had a bad one yet!  This latest program was no exception, except that it was exceptional.

An engaged group of 38 people began their experience with a viewing of the movie “Breach,” a dramatic account of FBI Special Agent Robert Hanssen, a convicted traitor who fed American secrets to the KGB (Soviet military intelligence) and the SVR (Russian intelligence service). The lively discussion that followed the movie was facilitated by a retired CIA counterintelligence officer and Russian/Soviet specialist. The methodology and rationale of Hanssen was examined and the damage his treason caused explained in some detail.  Our extremely knowledgeable speaker set the stage for the ensuing days’ programs and excursions.

The next morning a retired U.S. Air Force intelligence officer and Vietnam veteran introduced the topic of espionage in the D.C. area. Jonathan Pollard, an American traitor, convicted of giving secrets to Israel for ideological purposes and the damage done by Navy spy John Walker, who traitorous motive was profit, were discussed. Our presenter, now a Certified Master Tour Guide,  led the group on a guided tour featuring notable foreign and domestic espionage sites, focusing in the Georgetown area.  The evening program was an amazing lecture by a retired CIA polygraph expert.  The lie detector has its detractors, but most people don’t realize that the final product, those squiggly lines on a sheet of paper, is more or less anti-climactic.  The real work takes place before the actual test when the polygraph operator and his subject spend hours discussing the test questions during the most important pre-test interview.  Some of the presenter’s most challenging cases were described.  The audience was ready with many questions, each answered with completeness and honesty.


The program just got better and better.  The group was on the move the next day, heading for a morning long visit to Ft. Meade where the National Security Agency is based.  Our objective was not the NSA but the National Cryptology Museum located at the Fort.  The photos above were taken at the museum. I was thrilled when I was chosen to send a short message on one of the museum’s Enigma machines.  There I was, back in 1941 at Bletchley Park, attempting to crack a Nazi coded message!  The museum’s director was our guide and a very far ranging tour include not only their Enigmas, but the only-one-in-existence Cryptanalytic Bombe, the advantage of PURPLE- the program that broke the Japanese cipher, an introduction to SIGSALY (Secure Digital Voice Communications in World War II), the Navaho—and other Native American—Code talkers, the Soviet’s version of the Trojan Horse in the guise of an American Eagle wall plaque, intelligence satellites, and a great deal more.  Everyone agreed that we could have spent a few more hours at the Ft. Meade facility.

There were other activities and trips but the best was left for last.  The attendees were enthralled with the case stories the former Royal Canadian Mounted Police Security Service officer (somewhat like the FBI intelligence services) and current NSA guest lecturer described.  This gentleman spent much of his career in the Soviet Russia espionage scene.  The entire group was stunned when he introduced the guest he had brought to the program, a former KGB colonel who, amongst many other activities, had turned a NY Jesuit into a Soviet spy.  Both gentlemen regaled the group with stories of their experiences, describing some of the “assets” they had turned and managed.  Again the questions were fast and furious; the answers amazing.  The final two hours passed too quickly and the program was at an end with flights to catch. What a fabulous memory!

Road Scholar no longer limits its programs to those 55 and older.  If you have any interest in broadening your horizons check them out on the web:  roadscholar.org