9 to 5 (not a tribute to Dolly Parton)

9 to 5*--what a way to (sort of) make a living. 

I deeply apologize for the thirteen months I haven't written a word. One day is melding into another, and frankly it's getting harder for me to care. 

In my last post, I wrote about the state of the Montgomery County-Norristown Public Library, and what chaos existed a year ago. I looked over that post and realized absolutely nothing had changed--and wasn't going to as long as I was working here.

  A) The lighting in the stacks is truly awful. It's made for the warehouse it is and no visible attempt has been made to improve it. No improvement.

    B) The fiction stacks are, frankly, a jumbled mess. They have one person doing shelf reading, so he may be done by the time we move back to Powell Street. It's to the point where I'm going to refuse to pull fiction titles for ILL shipments until the management gaggle (I hesitate to call them a team) gets their collective shit together and comes up with a plan. Yes, we've been in this location for over two months, and it's nowhere close to being realized. My guess is that it'll be 2026 before that happens. Welp, it's September 2026 and while the fiction stacks are settled and properly signed (!!!), the juvenile fiction and non-fiction isn't.  

    C) There's no map for patrons to find things, and directional signs and shelf signage are out of date and incomplete. More frustration. That hasn't changed, either. Juvenile Fiction? one sign on each side of the stacks area, with no alphabetical signage. Adult non-fiction? The signage is a joke. Still out of sync with the actual collection. Worse, various entities move whole collections and don't inform the other departments. Biographies have been re-arranged at least twice. Short Story collections are now a separate department off away from the 800s in their own little back corner of the stacks, right next to audiobooks and oversize items. I wouldn't have known if I hadn't had to go looking for items in those categories.

I complain to my supervisor, but he offers no real solutions. No one does here. They all keep doing their own thing and pat themselves on the back when something works. In spite of my best efforts, I'm still "saying 'yes sir' to Klinger" (M*A*S*H, season 11, episode 14, 1983). No one listens. No one cares. I keep telling my wife that when they hire someone younger and prettier for my job, they will promptly get all the training they require to both the ILL Librarian AND Clerk's position. Just wait and see. Silly people don't know their own silly business--or just don't like me.

This place obviously never heard of Ranganathan's fourth rule of libraries: "SAVE THE TIME OF THE READER"--or library worker--or researcher--or library professional. Libraries would do well to review, remember, and apply Ranganathan's rules for libraries, and not self-congratulate themselves into obsolescence. Are you listening? Anybody?

*--Dolly Parton, music and lyrics; 9 to 5 and other odd jobs. Originally released in 1980, it became the title track for the 1980 movie of the same name.

Time of the Season*

 Lots of news today. 

1) I'm about to pass three years at my current place of employment. They had a self-congratulatory moment on Saturday, aka, an "open house". But this place is far from being user-friendly. To wit:

    A) The lighting in the stacks is truly awful. It's made for the warehouse it is and no visible attempt has been made to improve it.

    B) The fiction stacks are, frankly, a jumbled mess. They have one person doing shelf reading, so he may be done by the time we move back to Powell Street. It's to the point where I'm going to refuse to pull fiction titles for ILL shipments until the management gaggle (I hesitate to call them a team) gets their collective shit together and comes up with a plan. Yes, we've been in this location for over two months, and it's nowhere close to being realized. My guess is that it'll be 2026 before that happens.

    C) There's no map for patrons to find things, and directional signs and shelf signage are out of date and incomplete. More frustration.

I complain to my supervisor, but he offers no real solutions. No one does here. They all keep doing their own thing and pat themselves on the back when something works.

So they held their little open house, with representatives of state, county, and local government present (curiously no school board members). Being a "non-forward-facing department" employee, I was not expected to attend. Not sure I would have anyway. I had a previous commitment, and I did that--but more about that later.

This place obviously never heard of Ranganathan's fourth rule of libraries: "SAVE THE TIME OF THE READER"--or library worker--or researcher--or library professional.

2) Onto happier and more challenging news: I joined the teaching faculty for the PREP program at my wife's Catholic parish. I'll be teaching confirmation class. I'm guessing middle school age but I've never been involved in Catechetical teaching at this level. Probably another henhouse, and being a raw rookie at teaching this subject matter (although certainly a veteran in the teaching field), I know what I'm in for. 

*--Rod Argent, for the Zombies (EMI/Abbey Road, 1966)

Alfie*, opus 5

 So I'm into my third year at the Montgomery County-Norristown Public Library, working as "lead Interlibrary Loan clerk"--basically a glorified shipping clerk. Me. with two master's degrees and a lifetime of music performed and taught. Me, with business sales and management background. Why the fuck did it turn out so badly?

I can't blame it all on my addiction. 

I can't blame it on "everyone hates me"/I'm too old/I'm a selfish bastard/I'm stupid/It's karma for a life of abuse dished out toward me and to others.

No, I'm not the nicest man in the world. I get cranky (and I believe rightfully so) when I'm not listened to or pushed into a corner (see current job). But in the words of someone far wiser than me, this is a case of "accepting the things I cannot change". More later.

*--Burt Bacharach and Hal David for the movie Alfie (Paramount,1966).

Day in the Life. Part 4 : October 18, 2023

Arrived 9:25 am. My day off didn't yield a boatload of leftover work; my supervisor in the office did his usual yeoman job solo yesterday.

11:05 am: Spoke to reference head, who informed me that they were quiet today and didn't need me to fill in, and reminded me that Professional Development day was next Wednesday.

11:15 am: tackling the backlog from yesterday, a small pile of returns from libraries hither and yon, including a historical fiction title called "Captain Caution" by Kenneth Roberts (Doubleday, 1934). The title put me in mind of a former fellow WMU music student who had referred to a previous conducting student as "Captain Adagio". Having met him on one occasion or another--it's been a few decades--I thought it an apt description. Taking "Captain Caution" next door to Tech Services for binding repair. It's not as simple as walking the book 50 feet to a technician; I have to change the record in Polaris so that people don't try to check it out while the repair is being completed.

4:30 pm: a light day for the UPS shipment. not much to report today. Onward.

Changes, op. V

 Hey all, Daniel here.

I've been at my "new" job for about a year. I'm the lead ILL Clerk at Montgomery County-Norristown Public Library. It's a quiet hump day morning; not much in the pipeline as far as fulfilling or finishing requests. My big thrill for the day is the arrival of my "date-received" rubber stamp, which keeps me from having to hand write that information 20-30 times daily. (It was actually supposed to be "date-returned" but I'm not going to quibble.)

The job entails receiving and shipping library items to various points on the globe. Not everything is eligible for InterLibrary Loan; reference books, historical items that don't circulate, older items that have grown brittle (or as I like to say, "crispy", new items--although I will confess that our policy on new items is more generous than other institutions. For example, the Free Library of Philadelphia won't ship anything within 12 months of publication. If everything is kosher, than we ship it for six weeks as a rule; exceptions are made for libraries using items for book discussion groups. 

I continue to get a geography lesson just about every day I report for work. I've lived in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania for over 30 years, but I still get requests from places of which I haven't heard. We get requests from small rural libraries all over the country; the other "usual suspects" include the many K-12 and higher education libraries, governmental and military libraries--there are several in Pennsylvania, including the War College in Carlisle--even military intelligence units scattered across the US. Doin' my bit for Uncle Sam... 😏

Our biggest client libraries are, as you might expect, in Pennsylvania--

Adams County (Gettysburg)

Bucks County (Doylestown)

Chester County (Exton)--the ILL Librarian is my old boss from Spring City PL.

Carnegie Library (Pittsburgh)--arguably our #1 client in terms of volume shipped and received.

Dauphin County (Harrisburg)

Delaware County (Media)--our branches do more business with them than we do, but we get to distribute them when they ship a box of returned items.

Free Library of Philadelphia--I know their ILL Librarian, having worked with him a few years ago.

University of Pennsylvania--always asking for new items, almost always being told "no"

Paterno Library (Penn State University)

--but we do receive items from just about any library who will ship and not charge us. We charge $10 per item when they're headed to libraries out of state, except for the hodgepodge of public and university libraries with which we share reciprocity agreements--selected institutions in New Jersey, Michigan, Oregon, Washington state, and South Carolina, among others.

More to follow, but lunch is coming soon.

Onward.

Come Monday*

 Random thoughts on a Monday afternoon in mid-March (UPDATE: for some reason I just happened to come to this page and saw that I left the page unfinished)

1) I've been away from trombone for nearly four years now. Truthfully, I don't miss playing that instrument--which I started because that's what we had in the house; my brother's Bundy peashooter, stuffed into a closet on our tiny Cape Cod's upstairs. I probably would have played just about anything else brass--or sung in choir, if I'd realized sooner that being outnumbered ten to one by girls in a class where girls and boys mutually enjoyed singing wasn't necessarily a bad thing. 

I came to realize years later that school music was kind of a economic class thing. The kids of academics and more financially secure families played in orchestra, band was middle class, and choir was, well, just about everyone else. There were notable exceptions, but that's how it was (and still is, in many places) where I grew up. The choir always had its share of All-State members--three or four annually, if I remember correctly. An occasional band member would make all-state band or orchestra, but the Michigan Youth Arts Festival was always held on the same weekend as the annual Tulip Festival, and of course the band would march and squawk "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" to its thousands of adoring fans. Band members stayed home, even if they qualified for States. I didn't, and never regretted it. The trip to Central Michigan University was worth it. I played well, the band played well, and I was privileged to hear the Youth Arts Festival soloists with the Michigan Youth Symphony, as well as the All-State Orchestra. I look at the roster and the program and wonder what my fellow musicians are doing now.

*--Jimmy Buffett, Livin' and Dyin' in 3/4 time, 1974.

Asterisk*

To my readers, who think I've dropped off of the edge of the world: My heartfelt apologies for being away so long. I can't honestly add anything to what's been a year that was by turns horrific, depressing, hopeful--hell, the whole range of human emotion.

Not so long ago, people referred to certain sports records as needing an asterisk, as if they lacked legitimacy, as if they weren't accomplished with integrity. The home run battle in baseball between Mark McGuire and Barry Bonds, Floyd Landis' vacated Tour de France victory spring to mind, and ,  The pandemic has been that way in every corner of our lives, and indeed is leaving its own asterisk on the world of sports for 2020 and 2021 (and no doubt will in the future).

But I think what's going to leave the most impressive mark on the sports world (I'm not going to pretend and call them amateur sports) is the collateral (fill in your own noun, NSFW or otherwise) left by the recent Supreme Court decision in NCAA vs. Alston, whereby collegiate student-athletes (yes, even those majoring in "sports science") can be compensated for use of their name, image, and likeness by whoever wants to use them--the university (and I guess, the athletic conference to which their school belongs), people and entities in the private sector, whoever.  I'm not so astonished to hear that many of the Division I schools are jumping into the pool with both feet and establishing, in effect, representative agencies for their students, where people paid by the UIQ (University in Question) will sort thru offers and advise their clients--sorry, student-athletes--on which offers are good and which aren't.  I was never part of the college athletic program machine, but I know they have something called "compliance officers" that track the activities of all involved with their school's program and are supposed to flag illegal, immoral or unethical behavior on the part of coaches, athletes, and others inside or outside of the program. I can imagine the consternation of those involved in those jobs, having all this dumped into their lap. I can't imagine that this was something that they remotely thought they'd signed up for.

I've got more to say, but I can't couch it in terms in which I can communicate clearly.  More later.

Onward.

PS: I hope it goes well for you, Tammy. This not-so-dyed-in-the-Wolverine is praying for you.

*--composed by members of Japanese group Orange Range--Yamato Ganeko, Naoto Hiroyama, Hiroki Hokama, Ryou Murayama, Yoh Murayama--2005.

All Good Gifts*

Those of you who have been following this blog know that I'm a pretty decent home cook, and that I participate in the Free Library of Philadelphia Cookbook Club.  We've been meeting online for the last couple of months, thanks to ZOOM, and as I listened to my fellow club participants describe their struggles to get even basic food items, I posted this to Facebook:

"I don't want to sound preachy or act like "look at me, I'm virtuous and good", but I'm beginning to regret posting pictures of what I'm cooking and baking during the current crisis. I know that we have a lot of extra time on our hands, and it's fun to post our culinary creations here and other places, but I have Philadelphia friends, as well as a lot of former students, who are continuing to have issues with access to food and essentials.

Those of you who live in greater Philadelphia know that the big grocery chains aren't too plentiful in many of Philadelphia's poorer neighborhoods. On the other hand, I have Redner's, ShopRite, McCaffrey's, Costco, Sam's Club, BJ's, Wegmans, Giant, Acme, Lidl, Aldi, Weis, Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and Walmart, not to mention some large independents, all within a fifteen minute drive of my home. I'm pretty sure I could take SEPTA to all of them, too.

I haven't been in their shoes, thanks in part to our daughter who has gone shopping for us, Giant Foods opening an hour earlier for seniors and people whose family members are affected, and an employer who has deemed us essential so that we could work from home. We're in good shape, relatively speaking; my wife works for the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board and just returned to work (no, the retail locations aren't open, but they're helping to fulfill online orders). We're blessed to the point that we've been able to help neighbors and friends who aren't in our position--not a lot, mind you, but we do what we can.

Getting back to the point: many of you know that I participate in Cookbook Club, a program at the Free Library of Philadelphia. We actually met online this month (thanks, Zoom), and as more and more of the native Philadelphians participating in Club expressed difficulty in getting even basic items, I felt more and more uncomfortable about posting pictures of what I was cooking, so--I will not be posting food pics for the duration. I don't want to be responsible for adding to people's misery. I will continue to help our neighbors, take care of my family, and pray for our political leaders that they make wise, responsible decisions regarding the public health issues of our time."

I wrote this a month ago, and I hope and pray that your food situation is better than what it was then. Till we meet again, take care of those closest to you, be they family or friends, and don't be afraid to not only seek out opportunities to help others, but to seek out help when YOU need it, and gratefully and humbly accept it.

*--from Godspell, by Stephen Schwartz and John-Michael Tebelak, 1971.

Porgy and Bess: A Review

Last Saturday I took advantage of the Metropolitan Opera's brilliant marketing strategy designed to bring live opera to folks outside of New York City. For just $28 and change, I found myself sitting in a seat in my local multiplex waiting for David Robertson to begin conducting "Gershwin's Porgy and Bess". The broadcast started just after 1 pm, and began by panning the audience arriving in their seats in the Metropolitan Opera House.

People were, for the most part, dressed to the nines for early afternoon; not many attendees wearing jeans or Giants jerseys.  This being an opera about Black people from the Gulla culture (South Carolina and the Georgia Sea Islands), I expected to see more African-American people, but didn't see many.

A member of management whose name escapes me came out on stage, and announced to the crowd that the man playing Porgy was singing with a "very bad cold" (you wouldn't have known it) and was going to soldier through it rather than cancel. The overture started, and I thought, "Oh, this will be good."--and musically, I was certainly not disappointed.

Individual performances were strong, especially Met veteran Denyce Graves, who played Carla, the matriarch of Catfish Row, and Angel Blue, the well-meaning but ultimately easily-swayed Bess. Men in the cast also played their roles well, and all the hit tunes with which we've become so familiar over the years were given their due. This production of Gershwin's Porgy and Bess is the only production of this opera that I've seen, so I don't have anything with which to compare it.

But:

1) The HUGE, rotating, skeletal set piece that served as the Catfish Row neighborhood frankly took up too much room on stage.

2) As a result, the already too-large chorus was crowded into the front third of the stage, leaving too little room for the dancers.

3) The more I watched, the more Gershwin's Porgy and Bess (1935) reminded me of another piece of that period--Jerome Kern's Show Boat (1928), with highly stylized dancing, outlandish characters that veered dangerously into the gray area of caricature, and a script that treated the male characters as deeply flawed and the female characters as virtuous and noble, except for Bess, who was led astray by two men--Crown, and Sportin' Life, with whom she left Catfish Row for New York City, presumably to be pimped out by Sportin' Life.

Changes, opus IV

So I’ve been playing trombone for 48 years and singing in choirs and on stage and in church for far longer. I will be sporting hearing aids when I report for work on Wednesday, September 4. My hearing—and in particular, my ability to understand spoken language—has been declining for several years now. It’s been frustrating to say the least, not just to me but to family members, friends, library patrons, and musical associates, all of whom have had to endure my asking them to repeat themselves slower and louder. If I had to guess the cause of this, I’d have to say that 48 years of trombone playing, listening to music, and leading and rehearsing with musical groups of various ages and sizes have all taken their toll.

The cause isn’t important. I learned enough about the hearing issues faced by aging musicians along the way to know that it was coming, regardless of how I protected my hearing. The difficulty is going to be the adjustment to listening with a new set of “ears”, two little buds that sit behind my ears, with wires sticking into the canal.  It’s not a cochlear implant—I can put them on and take them off at my leisure.

In all honesty, I have no idea how this will affect my music-making now and in the future.  I asked for a leave of absence from the SPSO, the orchestra with which I’ve played for the last fourteen years, in order to get used to the devices while playing, singing, and talking. As for church choir, I’m going to see if I can continue to participate, but I can’t make any promises. It would be far easier if I was able to attend rehearsal but due to my work schedule that's not possible. Stay tuned...

Onward.

*--David Bowie, Hunky Dory, 1971.

PS: Welcome to the first person from the Maldives who visited this blog this week! Feel free to comment on anything you read here. I have never expected that this will be a place to hold chapter meetings of the local mutual admiration society, so if you disagree with me violently, have at it. 

The Name Game*

I know that this isn't about library work or non-profits, but:

I read and enjoyed this article on unusual saint's names and why you might consider them for your sons, but came to the conclusion that parents would encourage instant bullying of their boys if some of these were first names, regardless of historical importance or intent. Of course, the middle schooler/Eddie Haskill in me came up with nicknames based on these which would have the unfortunate ability to stick for life. To wit:

Bairfhion--"Barf"

Serapion-- "Sir a-peein"; "You're-a-peein'';

Zynoviy--"Zee" strictly for simplicity's sake--but this is a name you give your child if you want to cause every teacher he has to develop a double-take tic, or so that your son will endure a life time of "how do you spell that?" or "Z-Z-Z (awkward silence) 'How do you pronounce that?'". Actually, I'm guessing that's pronounced ZehNOvee--sort of rhymes with "Genovia" (See "Princess Diaries").

Aceptismas--"Axe", "Hatchet", "Unacceptable"

Vimin--"Vermin"; "Vimen" (if you're a SCRABBLE player)

Pollio--"String Cheese", "Polio"

Alphege--"Fetch" "Fletch"

Pancras--"Pancreas"; "Pancake"; "Waffle" (okay, that one is a stretch)

Now middle names are another story. Like many people, I didn't learn some of my classmates more colorful middle names until high school graduation rehearsal. A creative parent might get away with using one of these for a middle name, but...

*--Shirley Ellis, 1964.

Secret Agent Man*

It's summer, and we're running out of ice (Thank you, Rodgers and Hammerstein).

One of my summer projects is archiving our remaining sound recordings on LP. I had to laugh at one particular partial set. It's published by the"War and Navy Department"--which means it's pre-Cold War (before the name changed to Department of Defense in 1947)--and it's a partial set of educational records for instruction in conversational Russian. Several of the discs are subtitled "listening in", which, given the era, take on serious, somber overtones. I suppose it COULD mean for the listener to practice listening to the Russian conversation that occurs on these recordings, but why did I just think of Boris and Natasha Badenoff?

Onward...or not...

*--P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri, 1966, for the British TV show "Danger Man".

Seasons of Love*

Most Americans, even if they're not regular musical theater attendees, know the opening chorus from that Puccini-based knockoff, "RENT":

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?"

I quote this not because I'm a fan of the show, but because there are times that 1) I do not feel as though my work is valued and 2) There's so much busywork and minutiae in creating records that it's easy to feel overwhelmed. That year that's spoken of in terms of minutes can be interminable.

I'm in the process of archiving spoken word recordings for the library, and finding the poetry and prose anthologies to be the most time-consuming. Besides performer information, there's author information for every author represented on the recording, AND often musical information to consider. Slow going to be sure, but the harder I work at it the faster closing time comes.  Onward...

*--from RENT (1993), book, lyrics, and music by Jonathan Larson.

Handyman*

I'm now at the start of my second year at Lincoln University. I always like the beginning of the semester--students have a heightened level of intensity at this point in the year. New classes, new expectations, students don't change much. 

I'm working from the third floor reference desk, where I was last night due to a power snafu on the main floor that didn't allow that reference desk terminal to be used.  A help ticket was turned in to the maintenance office--it's not an IT issue so who knows when it will be fixed? The glacial pace at which tasks get accomplished at this university is truly astonishing. We're still waiting on the vendor responsible for the sliding glass doors between the second floor computer lab and the reference area to be fixed. Until that happens, we cannot offer 24/7 access to the computer lab. There is no sense of urgency--only resignation and frustration that we're in this for the long haul.

I once wrote on this page about a former employer of mine, Bill Jaeger, who often complained of people's stunning lack of information and/or curiosity about the two things in life they spend the most money on--their homes and their cars.  It often feels like that in higher ed, too.

*Otis Blackwell, Jimmy "Handy Man" Jones, c. 1959.

La Bonne Cuisine*, part 3

So this month's Cookbook Club at the PCI branch of the Free Library of Philadelphia features "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" by Julia Childs and Simone Beck (and that other woman). I've tried some of the recipes and don't find them particularly difficult if you follow the directions--including reading the directions, especially the part where JC tells the reader to go through the motions of preparing said dish--something I've been doing for several years, without knowing it was a good way to learn.  So far I've prepared Haricots Vertes a la Provencale and Boeuf aux Oignons.  Both have been wonderful, but it got me thinking about the 2009 movie "Julie and Julia", starring Amy Adams and Meryl Streep in the titular roles. The premise of the story was that Julie set a goal for herself to prepare every recipe (her count was 524) in volume one of Julia's book in the course of 365 days. I've been reading and cooking from (with great pleasure, mind you) that book for the last week, and to say the least, her claim that she completed such a herculean task in the course of one year raises suspicion. Here's why:

1) The movie intimated that, while she had friends over on a regular basis, she cooked most often for her husband and herself.  Following the recipe to the letter would yield enormous amounts of food--according to the cookbook, for 4-6 people.  Did she cut the recipes down accordingly?

2) Given the amount of food, not to mention the exotic ingredients many recipes required, it would require a budget far exceeding their limited means.  Was Julie secretly wealthy?

I also availed myself of reading viewer reviews at IMDB.com and discovered that I am FAR from the only voice expressing skepticism.

All that being said, I'm looking forward to November 6 and the next session of Cookbook Club.

Bon Appetit!!!

--*Leonard Bernstein, composer, 1947. Full title: "La Bonne Cuisine: Four Recipes for Voice and Piano".

I Me Mine*

All through the day, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
All through the night, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
Now they're frightened of leaving it
Everyone's weaving it
Coming on strong all the time
All through the day I me mine

I-I-me-me-mine, I-I-me-me-mine
I-I-me-me-mine, I-I-me-me-mine

All I can hear, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
Even those tears, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
No-one's frightened of playing it
Everyone's saying it
Flowing more freely than wine
All through the day I me mine

I-I-me-me mine, I-I-me-me mine
I-I-me-me mine, I-I-me-me mine

All I can hear, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
Even those tears, I me mine
I me mine, I me mine
No-one's frightened of playing it
Everyone's saying it
Flowing more freely than wine
All through your life I me mine

Regular readers of this blog know that I generally title my posts after popular songs.  For the first time, I felt compelled to post George Harrison's brilliant lyrics as well.  The reasons why will become apparent.

From Wikipedia:

...the Bhagavad Gita 2:71-72 can be translated as "They are forever free who renounce all selfish desires and break away from the ego-cage of 'I', 'me' and 'mine' to be united with the Lord. This is the supreme state. Attain to this, and pass from death to immortality." 

I was reading the account of another D-list celebrity who felt it necessary to broadcast their gender confusion to the world, accompanied by quotes of support from other star-bellied sneetches who didn't want to be thought of as not supporting their confusion.

In the old days (and I guess it still happens to some extent), if a Hollywood type wanted attention, they'd talk about their "brave" stint with drug rehab, spouting pretty much the same language as anyone else who had been thru it.

I think a lot of the world's misery is brought on ourselves and by extension, others around us, because we are by nature narcissistic, thinking only of ourselves and how we feel at the moment. I'm no different.

We need to think of prayer not as a last line of defense but as a method of first resort. It's a habit that far too few of us indulge in, and would solve a lot of problems if we did.

You don't like what I have to say, go on to the next blogger (n., person who thinks what they have to say is worthy of inscription in marble).

You too.

*--George Harrison for The Beatles, Let It Be, 1970.

PS: I'm not sure what to think about getting a contact from "Unknown Region". Where could that be? Area 51? The United States Space Force? Sesame Street? Some have suggested it's Russian hackers, but the thought merely amuses me. Onward.

Changes, opus III*

I'm not entirely certain why I haven't written since April.  We've had three deaths in the family since March (My mother, father-in-law, and my wife's godfather) and so we've been taking care of family business, so I guess that's part of it too.

The girls are headed to college (and back to college) in a matter of days.  We're very excited, although it'll be MUCH quieter with only our son home (still looking for a job).  Is there a parallel of the "honey-do" list for adult kids who are recently graduated but don't have a job yet? (GRRRRR) If not there will be...heh, heh, heh...

Work at LU is about to gear up. Students are back on campus for marching band, a few moving into the dorms, with classes starting on the 22nd.  BUT--the big news is that after four years without a director, we're getting one--Carla Sarratt from Wilmington NC. She was in the public library world in her most recent position.  We'll see how it goes.  We hear that she's big on programming and public engagement, so buckle your seat belts.

*--David Bowie, Hunky Dory, 1971.

Cool*

The longest business relationship that I've had in my life, even longer than my marriage (25 years this year), is with my insurance agent at State Farm (no, his name isn't Jake). He's seen me through good and bad times, high points and low; he's always been there. We even have a "Facebook friendship" that started after he retired. We've never socialized, sat down for a beer or dinner, (and I would if I had the opportunity), but was always dependable and gave top-notch service.   I trusted him, and he never gave me a reason to reconsider that trust.

I know that not every insurance agent or company, nor every business of any kind, is like that.  It can be disappointing, even devastating, to realize that the relationship was not what it seemed.  I'm not naive enough to think that people (and business models) don't or will never change, it's just that when it comes down to really needing the significant other, be it business or personal, to be there for you, to be in your corner, it turns out that the positivity, well wishes, and words are just a facade to get you to go along.

I'm not going to mention the department in or the name of the institution involved (it isn't State Farm) but I have to say that I am indeed VERY disappointed in their lack of transparency, their lack of cooperation, and their seeming lack of effort in matters concerning members of my family. 

We are not blameless. Perhaps we didn't accomplish necessary tasks with the expediency expected of us. However, we have been more than patient with this department--perhaps too patient.  I'd love to be able to say the institution's name, but you know how negativity in social media goes these days.

To Be Continued...

*--from West Side Story, music by Leonard Bernstein, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, book by Bernstein, Sondheim, and Arthur Laurents, 1957.

Off the beaten path*

I've been thinking about patron service a lot lately.

We're on spring break this week, here at Lincoln, and between preparing a Music and Dance Libguide and working the LP collection, the lack of decent inexpensive restaurants nearby has me going (too) often to the McDonald's in the next town.  Two recent experiences make me wonder about the level of people providing customer service these days.

1) I was at one Mickey D's last Sunday evening. They had a (presumably) new self-service kiosk, the first one I've seen outside of Wawa and Sonic.  The line at the counter had more than a few customers so I tried it out. Everything was explained on the screen, and I ordered a McChicken and a coke, grabbed a table ID tag, and went to a table and waited for them to bring my food.  I watched a party of five order at the counter, grab their drinks, sit down and get served while my one sandwich (and no drink) sat at the counter...and sat...and sat.  If I hadn't flagged down the counter person while she was delivering to the party of five, I might still be sitting there.  I showed her my receipt (and, I will confess, my annoyance) and she retrieved my sandwich.
"where's my drink?"
"oh, you get your cup at the counter"
"but I didn't go to the counter, I ordered at the kiosk"
"oh--what did you have?"
Sigh.

I finally received both items, but my conclusion is that the counter help was either 1) new and undertrained or 2) severely undertrained. In any event, they were understaffed and undertrained.  I promptly took the survey offered on the receipt. I have yet to hear back from them.

2) Another Mickey D, closer to work, this morning. I got in line behind half a dozen people with--you guessed it--one person at the counter.  After she took the order for a group of five, she left the counter unattended for (in McDonalds time) what seemed like forever.  Her back was to the waiting customers nearly the entire time. Didn't say anything this time. Got my food, sat and ate, went to work. Neglectful? Maybe. Understaffed? Definitely, and this was at 8 am--peak hours for breakfast in my estimation.

A third experience at our local chain grocer (Giant, not to be confused with Giant Eagle) was not the first time I've had trouble with them. Between inaccurate signage, poor quality food (frozen chicken wings with razor-sharp shards of bone), and just plain rude behavior have me going to a competitor.  Yes, I filled out their survey too, and have yet to hear back from them.  Maybe I've used up my lifetime supply of good will.

Yet another:  Stopped at the Red Roof Inn in Cranberry PA for a room for the night with my wife and adult daughter.
Me: I need a room for three adults.
Them: Will that be one bed or two?
+
EWWWWW...

Look--I get that service jobs, especially in the fast food and retail industry, are thankless and low-paying, and that you're subjected to the worst, cruelest, and condescending in human behavior. I've been there, I know.  They're entry level, and ideally should lead to bigger and better things within a given company.  Even if they don't, trainers and training managers--all managers, really--need to take training their people seriously.  Don't wait for your corporate office to mandate how to be nice, how to be considerate, how to take customers issues seriously (or with a grain of salt in many cases).  Too many generations of parents expected that of the public schools and look at how that turned out.  Former Secretary of Education William Bennett was right--K-12 education (and by extension, corporate training programs) aren't a one-stop solution where all of society's problems can be fixed.

Here's some simple rules to follow:

1) don't assume.
2) answer questions as though it's the first time you've been asked that day (thank you Disney).
3) treat people the way you would want to be treated.
4) don't make excuses. just do your job. rattling off a litany of excuses just rubs salt in the wound created by having a negative outcome in your transaction.

Now get off my lawn!
Onward.

*--Justin Moore, Off the Beaten Path,  2013.

Varsity*

Varsity, down the field,
Never yield, raise high our shield,
March on to victory for Michigan! (and the Maize and Blue)
Oh Varsity, we're for you,
Here for you to cheer for you,
We have no fear for you, oh Varsity!*

No songs for the junior varsity or the freshman squad, certainly not for the middle schoolers or beginners...

Why doesn't anyone want to teach any more? It's a fine thing to work with young people, to be sure, but at what level are you and your skill set most needed? What boxes do you check off at the end of each practice, each rehearsal, each performance, each season? How do you measure individual and group success?

I see sports programs all over the place but very few places of real learning. Ample evidence of game playing, but where is the learning about personal fitness at the earliest years?

George Cavender, long-time band director at the University of Michigan, had it right. In one talk he laid out a case for how music education should take after their counterparts in physical education in terms of marketing their product (with the all-important caveat of having steak to go with the sizzle).

If there was one place where you would find ample evidence of the truth in the saying, "it's not about the destination, it's about the journey", you would find it in N-12 music education.  Why do some high school bands flourish and thrive, while others are held together with "spit and sealing wax" (Robert Culver, Professor emeritus of Music Education, University of Michigan)?

The schools that "get it" understand the process, from top to bottom. Their teachers, parents and staff understand the value of early intervention in music literacy, what music literacy is, and what it takes to climb that seemingly never-ending staircase to excellence. They understand the value of having people who can function as adults in the "scrambled eggs" chaos (Tom Millard, retired music educator, Ann Arbor (MI) Public Schools) that is the years of upper elementary and middle school, regardless of the subject matter.

A dear friend of mine who worked for many years in the music publishing business once said, "There's a special place in heaven for elementary and middle school band directors" (Jean Anne Shafferman).  There's a hilarious story to go along with it, and I don't tell it nearly as well as she does, but I'll try.  She was attending an elementary school holiday Christmas program where the band was playing "Silent Night". The young man playing bass drum had obviously been told to make sure the audience heard the bass drum on the third beat of the second measure. So the first verse rolls along:

Si-i-lent Niiight....BOOM like a cannon shot! Jean Anne said, "I about fell out of my chair laughing", recalling the moment with unadulterated glee.

How does one make the case for differentiated instruction? For individual instruction? For teaching how to "Work and play well with others"?  It's even an integral part of NAfME's national standards for music education. Is the large-ensemble model with its foundations in the pre-WWII years still viable today?

I have so many questions but so few answers.

*--Earl V. Moore, Class of 1912 [Text: J. Fred Lawton, Class of 1911]