Cold New Year: Part Five

I have gone over my familiarity and issues with the Bannville Police Department. Captain Robert Stein and I have a healthy relationship built on trust and a mutual wish that the public remain safe and informed. Detective Gerald Parker and I just plain hate each other. Such is life.

I turned to look at the two of them. They were in dress uniform, the blue dark and clean highlighted by the bright yellow ribbons and chevrons that denoted each man’s rank. They looked damn impressive. Stein had his head shaved bald, the lights overhead gleaming in his dark skin. Parker, a head shorter than the other man had his blonde hair cut with the usual buzz that made me want to touch it to see if it stuck out like that on its own. I held up my small plastic plate and offered each man a cookie.

They declined.

Running F&*king Sucks

You could say I have trust issues. Can you blame me? I mean, who can I trust? Who can any of us trust? You know my stance on institutions like the church. I have seen what can happen with even close knit families like Dave's and the whole Santa Claus thing still kinda bothers me in general. There have been friends, sure, but they all left and only make sporadic appearances in my life. And love... I seem to hurt the nice ladies I have cared for to an extent that they are pretty much moved on before they moved out.

Is all that related to trust, or just my own issues with commitment, bonding, etc.? I could argue that one informs the other, they all relate in some way, in every way, but I do not want to argue. I want to take the pain medication the doctor gave me and go back to sleep. To sleep all weekend. Here we go.

Storm Passes

A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long. - e. e. cummings

There is a point when the truth is absurd. Just ridiculous. But there it is, right in front of you and you have to except it because why else would it be happening otherwise?

Case in point: When I was ten, I found out (SPOILER ALERT) there was no Santa Claus. Sure, I had my doubts and logic started to seep in, but the human brain is nothing without the capacity to keep hope alive. Especially if that hope drops off a buttload of goodies once a year. But my parents, in a nice gesture, took me aside one day and basically said, “Look, we know you are old and probably figured out that Santa Claus isn’t real but don’t tell your sister just yet cause she’s younger than you and should figure that out on her own.” Why they had to tell me my sister was younger than me is odd, but more for the point of exposition than anything.

So the myth that a fat North Polian in a red suit was not breaking and entering in my house as I had been lead to believe all my life was exposed by the very people who had been perpetuating that myth all along. To top it all off, my parents were the one’s dropping off the presents all along. On the next Christmas, when I crawled out of bed early in the morning to look at the haul, my mind flashed with alternating images: The fake one I had believed all my life with the jolly old elf pulling presents from a ginormous bag or the real one with two middle class parents pulling toys out of the attic and stacking them around the tree. The truth was a bitter, strange pill that day. I wanted to believe the lie, because the truth seemed ridiculous based on previous “knowledge.” But there you go.

Birds Sing After Storms

“Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?” - Rose Kennedy

During a severe storm, the best thing you can do is find a place with few windows and settle in with a good story. See, whatever is happening outside, you must remember that there is nothing you can do about it. Worrying will not stop the wind and the rain. You cannot reason with it, or bargain for it to come back on a day you are more prepared. Just hunker down and wait for it to pass with a strong roof over your head, a story at the ready, and maybe if you are lucky, someone to tell that story to.

During the last big storm, I was alone. As Katrina raged around me, sat in a small exposed apartment and drank beer after beer. A few times I stepped outside for a smoke break. One of those times I recall flicking my cigarette out into the darkness and seeing the small cherry fire vanish into the wind. My neighbor called out to me, “Kinda windy, itn’t it?” I agreed.

As of this storm, I found myself with a fairly large group huddled in the library’s sub basement computer lab. The wind lashed at the high windows and rain beat at the steel doors that lead outside into the parking lot. Water pooled around the bottom of the doors, but we shored it back with several sandbags already made for the occasion.

I would have sent everyone home earlier, but the madman with the gun would not let us leave.

Cooking Confidential

I once worked over a grill to make ends look at each other with wistful detachment without really ever meeting. The place was a little dive just outside of campus that stayed open late. You have probably heard stand up comedians talk out these places, dark huddled houses of waffles and international pancakes serving the dregs of humanity and staffed by people just behind the drunks in the intoxication department.

I enjoyed the hell out of it.

See, the most fun about it was that we worked nights. Being a cook in an all night dive sucks, to be sure, but remember: You are the only one there. The owner is at home nestled in his bed. Any self respecting manager earned the right to see sunlight years ago. The inmates run the drive thru asylums, my friends.

Rod in the Cabinet

Back and neck pain can turn out to be a pain in the ass, like I said. Beside your every movement being attached to the same muscle groups, you become helpless in other ways. Let us just say there’s nothing worse than living alone and attempting to dress yourself without screaming. Thankfully, there are such things as anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxants to dull the pain.

Outside of the physical, however, back pain comes with other problems. I am a big dude, about 6’3” and 225 lbs of both parts muscle and nonmuscle. If I had a pickup, I would be the first guy you called when you wanted to move something. But I do not have a pickup and now I can not lift a book without grunting, much less help my mother move a card catalog.

So when my mother continued to clean house around the library, she hired Bannville Lawn Care and Moving Company. Mitch and Eli Brown would cut your yard, move you into a new house and then cut that yard, too, all for a reasonable price. My mother always called them for odd jobs around the library, and I did as well. Along with certain odds and ends around the library went the ancient and now defunct cabinet for the card catalog.

Hanging Quilts

The town of Bannville has a long and interesting past. I have told you about Fire Day and Viper Day, but there are many other days lost in time where many sordid things happened. Like how our town was founded. If you go by the official history, two brothers, Stephen and Thomas Banned, came down into the piney woods. They found a small community called Jeff’s Bluff and through cunning and entrepreneurship in the logging industry brought civilization to the land.

Another tale not on the books goes that the brothers got the land when Jeff had an unfortunate accident with an axe. And by accident I mean he fell on it. Repeatedly. Off the top of the bluff that bears his name. Could happen to anybody.

Wrong Kind of Bars

“I don’t like jail, they got the wrong kind of bars in there.” - Charles Bukowski

I have never been arrested before. I have been questioned, pulled over, handcuffed, put in the back of squad cars, but I have never been formally charged with any crime. It goes with living in a small Southern town, listening to punk rock and doing my fair share of alcohol and drugs. But I straightened out. All that was behind me. So I thought.

Actively Demoted

“It’s going to be okay,” I heard myself tell the board of directors.

“How?” Carol Anne Kinney said, “How is it going to be all right, Mr. Banned? One of your staff was murdered in the library, her child was bitten by a snake let loose during one of your programs, there are reports of strange things concerning the circus in the library late at night, one of your librarians quit, another has major health issues, and the Little Banned Library is still missing. Again, how is it going to be all right?”

I sat down in one of the padded chairs of the library conference room. I had been waiting over an hour while the board met in an emergency session, pacing around the library and ignoring the now shiny space on the floor where I had found Ava Devillis not three days ago.

Moving On

“You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.” ― Tupac Shakur

Yesterday was a long day at the library, that’s what I told the police. But I’ll get to that.

For some reason we always seem slow at the library after summer reading. The business of all the kids during the day drops off when the program ends. The absence of so many little bodies and their adult keepers leaves a gaping hole in our day. Think of the last day of school, all the assignments, tests and papers have been turned in, but there is just that nagging feeling that you have something you should be doing. A void of inactivity that will soon become routine once again.

Made to be Broken

“The heart was made to be broken.” ― Oscar Wilde

I remember the first time I had my heart broken. That fucker just smashed into a thousand pieces and stayed that way for a long, long time. Then, I broke someone else’s heart and saw the world from the other side, watching someone crumble and knowing I was doing the right thing. Knowing they would be better without me.

Yesterday was the first time I hurt someone in that way without intending to. I saw it on Natalie’s face as she looked at Ava and I through that window. I tried to go to her, to explain that it meant nothing. A moment of weakness. By the time I made it outside, she was gone.

The rest of the day was a shameful blur. I called Natalie’s cell and her house phone every ten minutes. I left message after message, some making excuses and other simply saying “I’m sorry.”

I never heard from her. Not until this afternoon.

Viper Day

Even if a snake is not poisonous, it should pretend to be venomous. - Chanakya

Summer Reading came to an end late Saturday with the annual Viper Day party. After saying goodbye to Dave on Friday, Ava and I set up the place and I went home for a long sleep. The storms raged outside and the rain pelting down making me worry about the festivities. In the morning the sun was shining and we prepared for the activities.

Here’s the condensed version on what Viper Day is. Around 100 years ago when this area was still a small logging town, the original library building burned down under strange circumstances on the day known as Fire Day. Two weeks later, the remains of the building were infested by legions of snakes. Some think they were drawn by the heat as it was an unseasonably cool summer, while others think an evil curse placed on the land by the original natives of the land. Either way, the villagers banded together and beat all the snakes to death. The joke remains that the beating took so long that all the tools in the town were broken so the villagers were left beating the last serpents to death with their shoes. Shoes and snakes are the symbols of the day, from gummy reptiles to boots fixed on ax handles.

When summer reading became a thing after all the kids in town no longer had to help out on the farm in summer, the two events became one. So, we party and the entire town is invited. Even Victor the Viper.

Disaster Flirts

The great question that has never been answered, and which I have not yet been able to answer, despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, is "What does a woman want?"

---Sigmund Freud

Day Two of Summer Reading continued with little problems. Zookeeper Bob was supposed to come back today with a bunch of furry critters, but after yesterday’s fun with the scaly ones I let him out of it to come up with some way of finding Victor. As word has gotten out about our guest, our numbers have dropped considerably despite story time being held outside under the overcast clouds. Then, this happened.

“Story time go okay?” I said, pushing a cart into the children’s section.

Ava looked up and her lip curled at the sight of the full cart. I am not sure, but I think she dislikes having to shelve the children’s books that are piling up as she learns to do her job. I tried to explain how we all shelve and how important it is and she said something about not understanding the Dewey system or numbers. I was not listening.

Recap and Ketchup

“The rain to the wind said,
You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
― Robert Frost

As summer reading starts proper, I am at a loss. The last two weeks have been both demanding and absent of my attention, roller coasters that twist around back to the beginning and start over each day. I am overly dramatic and at the same time really fucking annoyed. Let me fill you in on the last week.

Interviews - Darling McCraw

Today begins the week of interviews for the children’s librarian position. As I have stated, I already have someone in mind but formality dictates that myself and Betty spend at least an hour talking with several people so that we can tell the board we made an informed choice.

The kicker comes in that we do not actually hire staffed positions. Betty and I do all the leg work to promote and interview prospective librarians and the board of directors take the one we recommend and do whatever the hell they like. Is it fair? In some ways I guess it does add a check and balance to the process, but the board has been so erratic lately I am worried.

That worry aside, today we sat down with Darling McCraw. After looking over his resume, I found my eyebrows being raised more than once at the kids qualifications. I hate that he is still in library school, or I would put him up for the reference librarian position right now. However, I can hire him as a regular worker. Hint: That’s what’s going to happen. I don’t need board approval for my paraprofessionals so they can suck it. And hopefully not read this.

Anyway, there’s some notes Betty and I took during Darling McCraw’s interview:

Applying for Destruction

My dear Betty has returned from her trip around the southeast just in time to help me sort through all the applicants for the children’s position. And to call the five we choose in for interviews.

What? Don’t look at me like that, I’m terrible on the phone.

Actually, we only have to narrow down three applicants. I know for a fact Natalie Ford is getting an interview as is Darling McCraw. I also hope these two will be employed by this time next month. Natalie simply deserves the job and Darling, while under-qualified at the moment, could help us out in a big bad way and eventually fill the open reference position we have been neglecting.

A Grad Student Walks into a Library

“Um, excuse me, can you tell me where Mr. Banned is?”

The kid looked small in his suit as he stood in front of me at the circulation desk.

“You found him,” I said.

He extended his hand and I took it.

“Hi, Mr. Banned.  My name’s Darling, Darling McCraw.  I got sent over her by Mr. Rosser at the school.  Said you might have a position available.”

“Hell of a name,” I said, “Yeah, we have a position open.  Children’s librarian.  You graduated?”