LaRue's Views 2001

After over 25 years of working in libraries, I've made an important discovery. Our key asset isn't buildings or books. Those things are important -- even very important.

But even more important is staff. Even if a library's buildings and books are nothing to shout about, good people can make you glad you stopped by.

We have many beautiful library buildings in Douglas County. And we're getting to the point where our collections are impressive. But our core strength is, and remains, the people who work here.

For the past several years, I've been reprinting what I've come to think of as "my Christmas column" -- a tradition. I hope you enjoy it.

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What we really need is an all-purpose gift that will satisfy everybody. It should be suitable for all ages. It should require no assembly. It shouldn't need batteries. You shouldn't have to feed it. It should last forever. It should be constantly entertaining. The more the recipient uses it, the more he or she should like it.

And of course, it should be free.

I dreamt last night that I flew.

Not in a plane. I just leapt into the air and soared. I lifted over forests of oak. I sniffed in the smell of old leaves. I could tell that I was in river country, in that last crook of the land before it opened its arms to the Lake.

The season was that heartrending transition just after the fall ends, and just before the first hard snow. The time was early evening; the light steady and grey.

A moment later, I topped a crest, and was viewing the snow-capped Colorado Rockies.

Last week I talked about two of the concepts behind the library's new mission statement: building communities, and improving lives.

The rest of the mission statement focuses on three other things: "providing resources" and "supporting learning and leisure."

There's something called the Fog Index. It's a simple calculation, applied to text, that tells you how complicated your writing is. In brief, when a sentence runs longer than 20 words, you start to lose people.

Back in October, the library's Board of Trustees held a long range planning retreat. One of their outcomes was a new library mission statement.

A couple of weeks ago, we asked everybody coming in to the library to fill out a brief survey.

We tested all library hours - morning, afternoon, evening, and weekend. To our great pleasure, we got over 700 responses in just a few days. In the jargon of data gathering, this is enough to be statistically significant, truly representative of the people we serve.

I was born and raised in the north. So I talk, and mostly think, northern. Both my parents, though, come from the south. So my family has both types.

Of particular fascination to me is the Southern Woman. By turns brilliant and bitter, demure and demonic, she bewitches and bewilders. I've seen southern women transform from a ruthless roomful of incisive social critics to a bevy of giggling belles, and in just the instant it takes for a man to walk through the door.

As a people, Americans have a peculiar fascination with work. Ask folks in other cultures what they "do," and they may tell you, "I paint." Or, "I carve." Or, "I spend time with my kids." Or, "I whistle."

Americans ask, "You do this for a living?"

And the answer baffles us: "No. I do this for a life."

Clearly, we all have animal needs: for air, for food, for shelter. We all have human needs: for human contact, for growth of mind and spirit, for productivity. For joy.

Many people think fantasy and science fiction are the same. They're not.

"Fantasy" takes place in a world where certain, often basic, things are just impossible. Take the Harry Potter series. The author doesn't spend a lot of time trying to work out sort-of-sensible explanations for why magic works. It's a given, part of the background. Spells work, ghosts inhabit Hogwart's halls, and brooms fly. On with the story!

Recently I attended a lecture by a library professor. I had the pleasure of sitting next to the delightful Virginia Boucher. "Ginnie," as she is known to her many friends and admirers, lives in Boulder, but has a more local connection. She attended library school, and was dear friends, with Genevieve ("Nicky") Mead, one of the true founders of Douglas County's libraries.

Ginnie is another pioneer. She was one of a handful of people who invented something librarians call Eye-Ell-Ell (ILL) -- InterLibrary Loan.