Happy Thanksgiving!

By this time tomorrow I will be about forty-five minutes away from Cincinnati. (I hope - holiday travel is notorious for terrible delays.) It is not the town of my birth, but it's close enough. I'm actually from Dayton, specifically from south Dayton - Centerville, to be exact, and if that doesn't have Mayberry connotations I don't know what would. Dayton is actually a nicer place than people probably imagine, or at least it was until GM laid off about 400 workers this week, but it seems to be the default city that authors use to refer to a place that is almost but not quite the middle of nowhere, bigger than the oft-cited Peoria but certainly not Chicago, or even Kansas City . PJ O'Rourke did it, Vonnegut did it too (and PJ, you should know better - you're from Toledo!)

But I left Dayton at 18 to go to school in Cincinnati, and I stayed there through college, a crummy corporate job, then grad school, then my first three years teaching. I met and married my husband in Cincinnati. So, in essence, it's where I really became a grownup. It's a far cooler place than people envision: everyone calls Sarasota the cultural coast, but every time I walk into any grocery store, fabric store, restaurant, shopping mall or preserved 19th century building in the Queen City I'm reminded how varied, cosmopolitan and steeped in history it really is. I'm like Marco Polo up there: I leave room in my luggage for all the exotic spices and luxury fabrics I want to smuggle back here every year.

I have a lot to be thankful for this year: I have this dandy new job, Mr. Librarian is also gainfully employed as a professional artiste, my little boy is the paragon of little-boyness, my parents are well and happy . . . and I have somewhere great to visit. After which, of course, I return here to the palm trees and brand-new pink stucco termite-free condos.

FACULTY WIN TURKEY BOWL, 13-12

You heard it here first, folks: it was faculty against the seniors in a flag football match for the privilege of a dress-down day. And who's wearing jeans tomorrow? That's right: THE GROWNUPS.

This was the exciting conclusion to a day full of surprises. This is my first year here at Out-of-Door, thus my first Turkey Bowl, and the thing I witnessed today that impressed me more than anything else was the degree to which the students seem happy to humiliate themselves in the name of sportsmanship. I saw the Dougherty Authority wearing screaming pink T-shirts (and matching headbands, in some cases); One Love sporting Rasta caps with faux dreadlocks (and if you've never seen that on a freckled Irish lass of about sixteen, you really haven't lived); a team of brides and grooms in tuxedo T-shirts and white plastic tiaras; and a whole squad of Gaffinators in superhero blue with red capes. "I can't believe I'm getting paid to sit here and watch this," I said to my boss on my way out to the field. He pointed out that it is a teacher's salary, after all, but hey - some things are priceless, aren't they?

Including the right to wear blue jeans behind the desk, while I watch the troops roll in wearing their corduroy trousers with belts and collared shirts!

Need info on that other Turkey Bowl? Click here.

News you can use

This morning I had the pleasure of working with Mr. S's journalism class. To give the students a taste of real-world journalism, the class puts out a newspaper every month. With every issue, they sharpen their skills - they're working their way into being real-life, hard-boiled newsmen who eat tacks for breakfast and wash them down with vinegar. Or something like that. Mr. S. kindly asked if I would draw upon my previous experiences in the media and say something useful, so I tried. Once upon a time I was copy editor, then copy chief, then editor-in-chief of my college newspaper, The News Record. At the time it was published three times a week and had a circulation of well into the thousands. Because we were self-funded we received no material support from the university and it gave us a rather broad freedom. That being said, however, all journalists are supposed to enjoy broad freedoms, as are in fact all Americans living under the protection of the Bill of Rights. There has been some exciting debate on campus lately, fueled in part by some opposing viewpoints on the opinion page, and that's perhaps the best lesson of all: that the things we think and write and share with others affect the people around us. Words have worth. Pick the good ones!

Turkey Bowl

Clearly we're one step closer to Thanksgiving Break, because Monday is Turkey Bowl Day here at Out-of-Door. All the teams are thinking up names, making the T-shirts, planning their strategy. I've never been a huge sports fan (surprise!) but I have to admit the energy is exciting, even infectious, and the tradition of team names is particularly enchanting. I'd list them here but I don't want to ruin the surprise. I was trying to explain Turkey Bowl to my husband last night, and it went something like this:
"Hey! Monday is Turkey Bowl at school! Everyone's talking about it! It's an annual tradition where all the classes get together on the quad and-"
"Bowl with turkeys?" finished Mr. Librarian.
"No," I said, "but that would be pretty great, too."
In fact, there actually is a scene in a Christopher Moore novel where stockboys at an LA grocery store bowl in the aisles with frozen turkeys after hours, but I don't see us recreating that any time soon, alas.

There are all kinds of myths and notions about the turkey, some of them substantiated, some of them not. Everyone seems to agree they're not too bright, but they sure are pretty. More so when roasted to a crackling bronze and surrounded by a wreath of fresh parsley, with apologies to vegetarians everywhere. Apparently a number of Native American tribes believed eating turkey would make you weak or cowardly, because the birds themselves were thought to be so. So, turkey is actually . . . chicken.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Is this Florida, or what?

In case you've been under a rock or something this week, we're having a cold spell. Actually, I kind of like it. First of all, as you know it's been a while since I've had to be dressed like a grownup five days a week and this is giving me a chance to wear all the nice woolens I saved from my previous life up North - major wardrobe expansion. Second, it's perfect weather for settling in with a book, of course! A book, some hot chocolate, crackling fire, a cat for company . . . I don't need the glamorous life, just give me good literature. Apparently I'm not alone, either: my circulation statistics are way up.

Speaking of books, unless you've been under the aforementioned rock, you know that Twilight is being released as a film this Friday. If you need a fix before then, see me at the desk. I've got it up front for now because it's circulating so fast I'm afraid it will start smoking. Don't know what all the fuss is about? Stop any random girl on the street between ages 11-17 and ask her what she thinks of Robert Pattinson. And then take two steps backwards, place your index fingers in your ears, and prepare to resuscitate her from hyperventilation.

Lollipops are candy, too

I'm very pleased to say that I have noticed a significant drop in the amount of in-library eating I'm seeing these days, with one exception: lollipops. Or suckers, whatever you want to call them - you know, candy on the end of a stick? I've heard a variety of entertaining, albeit specious, arguments that somehow lollipops should be exempt from the library ban, but they're not. "But it's in my mouth!" I hear that a lot. Except it isn't. It's in your hand, then it's on the floor, then it's dropped on the pages of a book, then it's stuck behind The American Civil War Almanac.

I'm not sure why a group of young people would want to walk around looking like Telly Savalas, drooly little white sticks poking out of the corners of their mouths, but evidently they do. I'm not going to judge you on your choice of cuisine, but I can make you consume it somewhere else, so keep those suckers outside!

My evil plan is working

Today I installed a display of musical instruments from around the world: we have a berimbau, a full set of Turkish nais, a kalimba from Africa, and the reigning favorite - an oud, way up on the top of the cabinet. So far two people have requested to play it, and several more stood transfixed, staring up at it. So, my evil plan is working. People are coming into the library and learning new things.