Saturday, March 13, 2021

Covid Era Librarianship: Reflections on Change during the Shutdown (March 2020-September 2020)

“On Being a Librarian During the ‘rona”
The real estate offices were deserted, the hotels had more waiters than guests; empty stores and vacant houses became numerous on all sides. Day after day and year after year the bright sun shone upon quiet streets and store-keepers staring out of the door at an almost unbroken vacancy. Many a man in San Diego during those long years that followed sat and looked at nothing long enough to have made a fine lawyer, doctor, engineer, or a fine literary scholar if he had only substituted a book for the empty door-way.
We closed the library to the public the day I got tested for Covid-19. Back then, it took two weeks to get results. When I returned from my two-week quarantine with a negative result, home delivery of books to local customers was already in full swing. As methods were tweaked and streamlined, we fell into a regular rhythm. There was a core group of five of us left in our modern, white, cool to the touch library building, after furloughs of part-time staff had happened and most of the librarians had begun working remotely. We handled the entire process. Some of us pulled the holds requested each day, checked them in to generate a slip of paper with the customer’s name for each item, cleaned the materials, and then grouped them alphabetically. The next morning, the books got checked out and bagged. We labeled the bags, and when the opportunity presented itself, I traced the cover art of the children’s picture books peeking through the translucent, white bags with a blue permanent marker. We numbered the bags based on routes generated by this fabulous app for the most efficient delivery around the city. 












Then, two of our staff, on occasion, three, went out to make anywhere from twenty-five to fifty-five deliveries each, often with multiple bags or boxes for a single household, while a couple of us, and on occasion, three, pulled items from as many as nineteen double-sided pages for the next day’s deliveries. When there were more items to be cleaned than we could handle at the end of the day, anyone in-house joined us for an impromptu, socially-distanced work party. Our administrative secretary could regularly be seen flitting around, phone in hand taking care of special requests from older patrons without computers or fixing delivery issues.

So it went, day-in, day-out, with our usual work tasks falling to the wayside. Though, since we stopped placing orders for new materials early on and had no in-house patrons, some things were not as pressing for completion. Between taking each other’s temperatures and writing “Enjoy!” on previously California-banned plastic bags, our old lives fell away and were replaced with history in the making. Within our part of the story, conversations were had and connections were made that bonded us through a shared experience that was wholly unique. I don’t know of any other library that offered this service. We became our own household. The occasional “visitor” from our work-from-home crew would come in from time-to-time, sometimes to record a children’s story time for social media. We were chastised for being too loud while they filmed; the stereotypically quiet library setting had transformed into a place where belly laughs were a regular occurrence. Later, when the Zoom STEAM camp meetings started, it always brought a smile to my face as I passed by a young staff member, hearing her animated interactions with the kids in their virtual setting. 

 Over time, I began to notice patterns in the reading, listening, and viewing choices of those we delivered to. Of course, in the pre-pandemic days, we could also see what people checked out, unless they used the self-checkout machines. But then, that was the world where personal interactions filled in the spaces between the stacks of materials headed out the door. It was always enjoyable to wonder with a customer whether a new book or movie would live up to the hype or to discuss favorite authors or the best books on a topic. This quarantine work showed us a kaleidoscope of where our thinking can go when a confinement starts and how each turn can change the delicate path as it meandered longer and longer throughout this year of our lives. Many a book was rescued from the oblivion of the discard cart because it got checked out when patrons remembered an old favorite or wanted that book they always meant to read from the past. With each pardon, I secretly rejoiced. Within a few weeks of quarantine, I saw more start-up business and creative how-to books going out. Later, the stream turned to more financial independence books. And later still, more art books. Audiobooks that had gathered dust on the tops of their cases found a new popularity as patrons varied their reading media. We were happy to dust them off to be sent out, using pandemic-approved disinfecting wipes as our cleaning product of choice.

I loved when adults and children went on a run with a topic. Horses, space, and backyard chicken-raising books were just a few of the themes that our city’s residents took to becoming experts in during their seclusion. Reflecting the tragedy of George Floyd’s death and a renewed emphasis on BLM, books on racism, African-American history, BIPOC picture books, and those written by black authors went out in large numbers. As with the trend found on many social media posts, our customers also checked out their share of baking books. Jewelry making, foreign language guides, and books on various aspects of religious history and thought were also popular. The classics were highly sought after, both in books and in movies. Many old and new authors found their entire oeuvres conscientiously devoured by readers at home for the duration. This immersion would often, to my delight, include the author’s biographies and film adaptations, creating a multi-media, expansive knowledge base on an author’s work. With such an outpouring of materials, I chuckled when what first seemed odd in a bumpy book cover became more and more common, and it finally dawned on me, “Yes, we live in a coastal city...and there will be sand inside the Mylar covers of books whose days have been previously spent uninhibited at the beach.” 






 






The largest number of books going out were consistently our children’s books; some households would request dozens of books for their kids. We often went off on a search for just the right empty box to transport these requests, where the parents would have likely brought in their wagon or some other transport on wheels in the days when they could still visit the library in person. At various times, we also sent free books and craft kits put together by our Children’s staff. One customer told me that her kids behaved as if they had won the lottery when their books arrived with activity bags. How can that not be gratifying to create such excitement in little ones? 

 Pulling books from series collections, my co-worker and I quickly felt the intense frustration of not being able to find that one specific children’s title whose series name was on the spine of every book rather than the individual book title. So each physical book of a sometimes very large series collection had to be pulled off the shelf to find the exact title that had been requested. Focused on processing new collection items and catalog errors, we did not regularly see the reality of the in-between experiences before checkout. After much discussion, we developed a new labeling scheme for one such perpetrator, knowing that it would in the future also ease the frustration of our usual holds-pulling staff and customers looking for a specific book within that series! 

Wandering the quiet, dim library to fill holds requests led me past display cases cheering the new decade and encouraging new starts for the first chapter of 2020. It felt amusing, in a melancholic “what might have been” kind of way. I sometimes felt lonely and stuck in an episode of “The Twilight Zone” when I would walk by my furloughed co-worker’s desk, her March calendar page still on display. As time passed, this new reality felt normal. Now as our reality changes again with curbside pick-up and the return of dearly missed co-workers, this moment in time will solidify itself into memory along with the minutiae of my marker covered hands, treasured mint brownies, and home delivery patrons’ thank you notes posted in the check-in room.



I already loved working at this city's library during my short tenure, but the fact that we were able to continue to provide service to a large number of our customers made me proud to be a librarian and grateful to be a part of this team. To be able to offer some personal contact for those in our elderly community and fun, on-going literacy for the kids in the midst of this bizarre and surreal period in our history has been especially rewarding. I hope these positive memories will remain with the children throughout their lives. They will in mine. Just as we grew up hearing stories about life during the Great Depression from parents or grandparents, I love to imagine these kids sharing the experience of having books delivered to their house while Covid-19 raged throughout the world with their children and grandchildren. 

With our new normal, I move forward with more knowledge of the best-selling fiction authors and their books, where I had previously focused on non-fiction, as well as a broader understanding of my new library’s inner workings. Someday, I look forward to putting faces to the names I’ve gotten to know over the past months. And talking about their new favorite books. 


The opening quote is from The City and County of San Diego by Theodore S. Van Dyke, 1888.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Nineteenth Century San Diego County Tattoos v. Early American Tattoo History

In Ira Dye’s article, “The Tattoos of Early American Seafarers, 1796-1818,” he laments the lack of additional documentation on tattoos. The California registers from 1892-1898 provide the exact large data group that Dye was looking for, when including the registers from all of the counties in the state, since tattoos were recorded, as well as occupation and age. He might have been pleased to see that his analysis of SPC-A and POW records holds up late into the 19th century. Both initials and anchors continue to hold their positions as the first and second most popular tattoos among tattooed San Diego County registered voters. And most of the tattoos were in black ink. Dye points out, it is difficult to know if men in non-marine occupations with tattoos are representative of a general population that were also tattooed or were likely former sailors, etc. There were men in San Diego in non-marine occupations with tattoos, e.g. the New York laborer with the most tattoos of the tattooed registered voters with five: a bracelet and a cross on his right hand, and an anchor, cross, and heart on his left. Of course, he could have previously been a sailor, as laborer is a general occupation. The majority of the tattooed voters were indeed listed as sailors, longshoremen, wharfingers, and sea captains.
Examples of tattooed men and their tattoos in the early voter registers: an English gardener with bracelets on both wrists and an English farmer with “designs tattooed on both forearms. A Swedish wharfinger carries his work home with him as illustrated by an anchor tattooed on each hand. And a fifty year old Finnish longshoreman, Augusto Anderson, with “A.A.A.S. 1842” in India ink on his right hand and a star on his left. A Finnish stenographer with “B.W.L.” in India ink on his left arm and a Norwegian sea captain living in Coronado, with an anchor on his right hand. A Russian painter with an anchor on his right hand and a bent finger. Patriotic tattoos continued to be popular. Too far removed from our country’s founding years to be related, immigration takes over as a means of explaining a naturalized citizen with an English flag tattoo and a Scotsman, James McInnes (a laborer) with thistles on his left wrist. Tattoos demonstrated new allegiances as well, as with the ruddy-complected Irish rancher (Lawrence Garrigan) with “American Sailor” tattooed on his arm and someone else with a U.S. coat of arms. Did Frank Woodruff, a 44 year old merchant from Ohio, living in Oceanside, benefit from the invention of the electric tattoo gun for his tattoo of a ballet girl on his left arm? The arms, including wrists, arms, and forearms, then hands continued to be the most common places for tattoos. However, the clerks may not have been asking the men registering to vote if the had tattoos elsewhere on their bodies.

Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. 133, No. 4, December 1989, p. 532-549

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Hoodlums in 1939

The Army and Navy Academy, originally located in Pacific Beach, moved to Carlsbad in 1937. Today, it continues to be a part of our community, with a most excellent and picturesque location on the northwest end of town. This 1939 article tells the story of some hooliganism that occurred on the campus by local teens. The way the situation is handled by the staff and community, via the Carlsbad Journal, demonstrates the sensibility of their time and place. FYI, in 1939, there was no Carlsbad High School. Carlsbad teens attended Oceanside-Carlsbad High School in Oceanside, now Oceanside High School.

The Journal is in receipt of a letter from Major John Davis, president of the San Diego Army and Navy academy, reporting that Mrs. Virginia Atkinson, their dramatics coach and their dramatics team, were continuously annoyed at the theatre last week by hoodlums.

The dramatics team was rehearsing for the State tournament held this week in Pasadena where the Carlsbad entry from the Military academy won second place and in which, there were eleven entries.

During the evening while rehearsals were in progress these hoodlums would pound on the theatre doors and throw rocks and other missiles at the building for no other apparent purpose than to annoy and disturb those who were at their work.

When Mrs. Atkinson went to the door and invited the boys inside they responded with language and epithets that are imprintable.

Some of the hoodlums were recognized and at least some of them are high school students at Oceanside, and one of them a senior.

President Davis in his letter to The Journal said that it is not the desire of the academy to make unnecessary trouble for the boys or their parents, that the school not only desires to avoid such steps, but wants still more to become a home institution, a part of the community life in Carlsbad, and he asks what can be done to avoid experiences of this kind in the future.

The splendid thing for these boys to do, if they read this report, would be to go to Maj. Davis or Mrs. Atkinson and apologize and promise not to repeat their acts of rowdyism.

Putting it mildly, it is unfortunate that a community like Carlsbad should have young men as residents whose idea of fun is to indulge in acts of vandalism, and worse still, should consider it smart to use vile language in the presence of a lady. Mrs. Atkinson will be able to forgive and forget, but the boys themselves, and high school students at that, will eventually suffer severe and unpleasant consequences for engaging in their idea of sport.

There is just one way that these boys will ever amount to anything. It won't help them any to be arrested and punished by law, but if they persist in such rowdyism that is what will happen to them. If they want to feel good again their only course is to report to the Academy that they are sorry.

That would be the first step toward becoming young gentlemen.

Thursday, July 18, 2013

The Coronado Fishing and Hunting Grounds

The ocean fishing off Coronado in plain sight of the hotel is unparalleled. During the season of Spanish mackerel, rock cod, barracuda, and yellow tail, a two hours' catch of a couple hundred pounds is an every-day affair. Spanish mackerel weighing from eight to nine pounds is a fair average.

Those who have had the most experience in all parts of the United States say that the California quail is the most difficult bird to kill, and get in your bag, that flies. The famous shot, the late Ira Payne, after failing to bag a single quail with nine consecutive shots, said that they are the most elusive and delusive birds he had ever tackled.

A reservation of 1,900 acres within one and one-half miles of the hotel has been stocked with thousands of jack-rabbits, and the management has cleared a field of one and one-half miles long, over which guests of the hotel on horseback follow a pack of thirty greyhounds.

These rabbit chases are now among the most popular sports in Coronado, and occur twice a week, and oftener, if a dozen riders desire to indulge in a chase.

There is no expense to guests to join any of these chases, except for mounts, it only being necessary for them to leave their names at the office one day in advance.

(From a travel brochure, circa 1900)

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Viewpoints of time & place

"Just as travel underlines that obvious but ever-surprising fact that, from wherever you view the world, it looks different, so does history offer intellectually something of the same insight. Our surroundings have been the home to countless generations of people estranged from us by time, for whom the assumptions and realities of life were, in a myriad of ways, fundamentally different. That realisation [sic] should be revelatory, inspiring and admonishing in equal measure."

From the March 13, 2013 issue of Country Life magazine

"A Plea for Palomar", by J.H.Y., 1901

A poem written about Palomar Mountain, which had earlier been known as Smith's Mountain

Fell my oak and fell my pine-tree; send my cedar to the mill;
Strip the tangled pine from off me; roll my boulders down the hill;
Grade my summit; till my valley; tear away my woodland pride;
Parcel me in city lots, and run a railway up my side;
Rule my streets with dull precision, block by block, in order time,
Here a church and there a depot, where the tiger lilies grew;
Mar God's handiwork about me; let my beauty be a myth;
Then, defaced and desecrated, call me after Mr. Smith.

But while yet the stately cedar sentinels the sylvan lawn;
While at times from yonder thicket peeps the nimble-footed fawn;
While the glory of the morning breaks on precipice and peak,
And the winter sees my waters leaping down to Panama Creek;
While the valley smiles beneath one, stretching westward to the main,
Mile on mile of rolling pasture, green alfalfa, golden grain;
While I look on Catalina, far beyond the ocean shore,
And the gleam of sunny waters on the lake of Elsinore;
While I dominate the lowland, hill and valley, near and far,
In my majesty and beauty, let my name be Palomar.

Baron Bror Blixen-Finecke speaks on open space, circa early 20th c.


So far the tourist has not discovered it [Africa], and I would like to see it in its undisturbed glory before railways and air routes have arrived, before luxury hotels and nightclubs have grown up like poisonous fungi - before it’s been tarnished and made ugly for civilisation [sic] which is unable to let things well enough alone.

From Bror Blixen: The African letters, edited by Gustav Kleen, 1988