The Blizzard of October, and What Makes a Librarian Want to Tear Her Hair Out

It began in the middle of Saturday morning. A heavy, cold, fat rain pelting down with bits of snow-slush stuff that began to accumulate on the ground. That’s what the freak Northeastern snow storm of October 29 looked like here on the north shore of Long Island.

Yes. Snow. And most of our trees haven’t even started to turn color yet. It still looks like late Summer out there. 

It was an ignoble end to my brave and courageous cosmos.

I had a late morning dentist appointment in Sea Cliff (for those who are keeping score, this was two Saturdays in a row) and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to go visit the Sea Cliff Library.

The library is smack in the middle of town, in the old Methodist, or Presbyterian church. I ave already forgotten which. But it was Protestant.

This was my first visit here, and I couldn’t help but let out a little “Ooooo” of appreciation upon seeing the churchie details still intact.

I pulled out my camera and started to take photos. The librarian looked at me and said one word : “Architect?”

I replied with one word, in an apologetic tone: “Illustrator.”

I want to live here, in this church-windowed corner.

While I roamed, I overheard a grown woman ask the librarian:”Are all novels fiction?”

“Yes,” she was told

“But aren’t there true-life novels?” she asked. “No,” the librarian said: “That’s narrative non-fiction.”

The woman persisted: “But not all short stories are fiction, right?” she asked, “Because aren’t some true books written as short stories?”

“No,” the librarian said. “If a non-fiction book is written in short chapters or in a series of essays, that’s an episodic devise of the narrative. But it’s still non-fiction.”

“Oh,” she said. “OK.”  But she didn’t sound convinced.

That hole in the ceiling is from the lengthy investigation going on in the 100-year old Sea Cliff Library to find out where the rook leaks. They’ve been looking for the source of the leak for about three months.

I know government work when I see it.

Now I’m wondering about the life of a librarian. I used to be envious —  they work with books! In a workplace with no non-stop background music! And with very few other people1

Now, I kind of feel sorry for them.