Down the Toilet

Our entire rebate check was sunk into the car yesterday. The car, something I don't even use and Jim wishes we didn't need.

Ack.

In Memoriam: Rob Maisch

Yesterday we got a call to say that our friend Rob Maisch, author of Confessions of a Cereal Eater! and librarian at the Akron Summit County Public Library, had died.

Last weekend, my friend Ruth turned 30. Ruth and I have been friends since age 12, despite the fact that during the early years of our friendship she once actually bit me and later ran me over with her bike (then blamed it on me).

So for her birthday I indulged her by whiling away an hour on the balcony of the West Side Market reminiscing about all the terrible things I'd done to her, like chicken out on our 11th grade trip to France.

I realized then that if I had gone to France, the entire trajectory of my life would have changed. No kidding. It was a very sobering moment that depressed me all week.

But now I am enormously glad I didn't go to France because meeting Rob was one of those things I would've missed out on.

I met Rob in 2001 when we both started library school at Kent State. My first impression of a grizzled unsmiling codger with a chip on his shoulder the size of Massachusetts soon gave way to a grizzled unsmiling codger with a chip on his shoulder the size of Massachusetts and a heart of gold. And a head full of fascinating stories. I practically sat at his feet with my jaw hanging open.

We all did.

There are three main things I learned from Rob:

1. Don't take life too seriously.

2. Getting older doesn't make you insufferably dull.

3. Look for the storyteller in the crowd. Because he has amazing things to teach you.

Late last night I was rooting around in a box of old photos for a good one of Rob, something that I could post here, but I was stymied in my attempt to find one that didn't contain a rude hand gesture. There was even a couple of priceless, un-PC shots taken in front of the short bus.

(As I'm writing this, I'm recalling that it was Rob who spotted the short bus parked in front of Luigi's, scampering over to it in the way that paunchy middle-aged men usually don't, gleefully shouting, "All right! It's the short bus! Who's got the camera?")

Rob looked at my life through the long lens of experience and without knowing much about me at all, could tell me exactly what (and who) I did and didn't need in my life.

Rob always wanted to hang out with us twentysomethings, the so-called Two-Fisted Librarians Gang who drank cheap beer in the Rathskeller while kvetching about MARC records.

Maybe we kept him young. Maybe he made us wise.

When Lyra Belacqua puts an end to Death in The Amber Spyglass, she makes a deal with the Harpies who have tortured the souls of the dead for untold ages. In order to go on to the next world, the recently-departed will have to tell stories to the Harpies. True stories, from their real lives. In other words, they've got to live, and not waste their time on Earth.

Rob had an amazing gift for those type of stories. I can only hope to be half the storyteller he ever was.

Summer Plans

My job is ending in two months, so I've been taking some time to think about what to do next.

I am not optimistic about getting another job right away -- this is Cleveland, after all -- but I want to keep busy. Here's what I'm thinking:

1. Volunteering. I want to use my library and/or writing skills to volunteer with an important cultural institution. (Ultimately, I would like to work for an important cultural institution, so the more experience, the better.)

I'm tracking down a few leads right now, but I'm open to suggestions.

2. Finishing my writing projects. Working full time has really changed my perspective on writing. It's like I want to go back and take my unemployed self by the shoulders and holler, "Hello?? Do you realize how much easier you have it?? Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get cracking!"

I've got 2 YA novel manuscripts that are 80% done, and one that's 95% done. (I've been working on this last one since 1997). I think it's time I just take the plunge and start finishing things. It just seems like a corner that I haven't wanted to turn, for fear of success. (Yes, really! It's not failure I fear, but success.)

3. Continuing ed. I've thought long and hard about doing some continuing ed in something technology-oriented. I think I'm going to go with database administration because my last job involved using Filemaker and Filemaker and I got along okay. Databases make sense to me and I seem to run across a lot of database-related job postings.

I'm also looking around for an online cataloging class (I wasn't required to take cataloging in library school.) I've never had the feeling that cataloging jobs are easy to come by, but I like messing around with metadata and I'd like to bone up on MARC records because if I was able to score a cataloging job, I'd probably never leave. Honestly.

4. Looking for part-time work. I have this idea that I'd want to have a regular part-time job that I could supplement with freelance writing income, but I don't think I'd want to be a full-time freelancer. I need to get up and go somewhere at least 3 days a week. To a place where if I don't go, there will be consequences. (This part time job intrigues me....)

I would do full-time if the right opportunity came up, say, something here at the art museum. (One thing I've learned is that a good employer is worth its weight in gold!) Or anywhere in University Circle, at the sort of "important cultural institution" mentioned in #1.

5. Watching a lot of Doctor Who. The old stuff, with Tom Baker. In other words, I want to spend a leisurely summer revisiting my roots, going back over the stories that captivated me as a kid, the stories I used to obsessively dream myself into.

What are your plans?

Signs of Progress: Ohio City in the 1980s

If you have any doubt that Cleveland has made some progress over the last twenty years, just check out these two photos, posted today on the Ohio City Near West Development Corp. site.

This is what I remember Ohio City looking like when I was a kid. But holy cow -- the stark contrast still floors me.