Tag: books

Re: Phonebook

My 96 year old blind mother-in-law asked if I was whispering something. We were sitting together in the living room and I was channel surfing on the smart TV using a remote control that I could direct with by voice. When I told her what I was doing she asked for more information. I thought to myself afterwards that my discussion with her about this new-fangled technology must have made her amazed. The fact that I can talk to my television awes me too.

If I were to describe a phonebook to my grandkids they would call me a silly old grandpa. I don’t know how I could convey to them that it was an old form of data filing, sorting, and acquisition; just for phone numbers! I think you got a new volume every year. It came in the mail. In large centres like Toronto, where I used to live, you’d get two books, one for phone numbers and one, called the Yellow Pages, for all the stores and services. These were thick soft-cover books listing thousands of names of people who you could talk to, just by dialling their number. Some homes had a special piece of furniture called a telephone table, that would have a seat attached and a special drawer or shelf for the phonebook. For some reason this curio-table would go right by the front door, where the phone guy would hook up your rotary phone to sit all stylish-like on the table’s top. As a teenager I got no privacy sitting on that telephone table in the front hallway of my parent’s duplex.

If I wanted privacy I would go to our strip mall down the street where folks could make their phone calls from a phone booth. These booths were on most street corners back in the day. They typically measured 32X32X90 inches with a funny folding door. Believe it or not, inside those closet-like compartments you would find a well-used phonebook. Smart-ass folks would sometimes tear pages from the phonebooks for all manner of reasons, leaving you puzzled when you were almost at last names starting with Y, only to find the Ys were missing.

Thinking about technology, systems, and industries of the past can get you time tripping. Inventions propel the human animal in directions only limited by our imagination. The Dr. Who television phone booth is called a Tardis, where you can time travel. And, believe it or not, magicians and guys with large biceps once made money proving that they could rip a phonebook in half. Today you can get pointers on how to do that on Youtube.

Smartphones carry far more data than a single phonebook ever did. Imagine being able to scroll to find your contact person. Gee Whiz! The other day while walking in a local park my wife made a phone call, and using that same device she took pictures of flowers that were then identified for her instantaneously. She then looked up a restaurant where we dined later following the route provided by her phone! Dial phones used to receive random wrong numbers. That hasn’t changed.

Re: Education

Why education is not free for all I do not know: For knowledge, like love, is as central to our existence as the air we breathe. Acquiring an education can come by differing methods; Formal education must be part of the social contract and paid for through our tax system. We must be culturally encouraged to self educate through many different delivery modes. And of course the school of hard knocks can be enlisted, edited, analyzed by each individual in a life long learning manner.

I’ve spent a lot of time in school buildings. If you count my childhood years and my teaching career, I’ve spent half a century within hallowed halls. I respect the institutions of education enough that walking near such places of study today gives me emotional sensations of hope and positivity. I can readily recall my grade school teachers: Mr. Stroud, Mr.Green, Mrs. Fourfar. Their names don’t matter so much as the information and encouragement they imparted. My parents instilled in me the value of education too. By example the gave me the prerequisite for all thought: Curiosity.

I believe that learning is a quest, an imperative to a fuller life. I ache to acknowledge that some in this world do not have the opportunity to have an education. Some religions still forbid entrance to schools of learning. Girls are still denied an equal footing in many places of study.

I believe much of the dissatisfaction found in the world today is due to the corralling of knowledge and information by those who wish power. Equal access to education for women and men diffuses the centralized vision of control, bringing balance and a shared imperative to community. Reading is at the heart of self education. Text brings intellect to life. Insight is gained from words used in different contexts. Imagine a universal book club. We begin by sharing the latest of what we’ve read. I delight in hearing my blind mother-in-law describe her latest discovery from her audio selections. Her reporting of information makes me recall listening to old radio shows when I was an infant.

To know is to be. Central to the entrapment explored in the film Women Talking is girls not being allowed to go to school. “No more pencils/no more books/ no more teachers/ dirty looks” is not something to promote in a policy document. “We don’t need no education/ We don’t need no thought control.” Is an anthem about revolution over a centralized authority. The subjugation of indigenous children to the atrocity of residential schooling brings a sadistic meaning to the school of hard knocks. We learn through our experiences and I believe our most relevant lessons are best delivered with love, not fear. We can only become our best selves when we are nurtured in the practises of daily life. We each have a role to play in educating each other; providing information as we would a gift, not withholding knowledge as though it were a secret.

We left Eden a long time ago. The whole wide world awaits.

Re: Library

I have temporarily relocated to come to the aid of family. My first consideration was finding a place to stay. My second; to get myself a library card. For me, books are a source of comfort and libraries are a hub for enquiring minds.

In grade three I was intimidated by Mrs.Powers, the Teacher Librarian at my school. It didn’t help that I committed a crime that year. I lost a book that I borrowed from one of her shelves. I  searched everywhere while reporting to Mrs.P.  each week about my lack of progress. She became a constant reminder of my shame. When I found the book, months later, I couldn’t bear to return it. I tossed it down my apartment incinerator chute.

Many years later Janice appeared. She was my first high school romance. She volunteered at our town library. I would meet her there to go on a date. She encouraged me to get a membership. I developed an association between my feelings for Janice, the other librarians I encountered while waiting and the overall atmosphere of calm found in this stone building filled with things to read.

Being a solitary sort of person I somehow feel less alone while searching the stacks in a library. In University I sometimes arranged to meet someone in a library rather than a campus pub. I filled my spare time between classes in Teacher’s College sitting in a comfy chair catching up on ‘classics’ I had missed through my youth. Later as an elementary school teacher and as writer for a newspaper I depended on my town library for research material. My wife and I took our children for library programs while they were still comfortable to sit on a lap for story time.

I came across a letter my son wrote to his grandparents regarding his love of books. While in high school he worked at a Coles book store where he had borrowing privileges. He reported, “I’m so in love with words right now that I feel I could easily make my life’s ambition to read until I’ve lived thousands of lives, in thousands of lands by merely turning the pages of worn out books that come alive by my active eyes.”

Last month I was in the branch of my local library picking up a hold I had requested. I overheard a lady struggling to describe a book to the librarian at the front desk. It sounded like the very book I was about to check out so I held it up, boldly calling, “You mean this one?” I could sense the half dozen bibliophiles presently among the shelves stop breathing. The lady turned to see me holding up the book. Her eyes widened. “That’s it!” she cried. Two librarians came from a back room to confront the ruckus. There was still a pause felt in the air. A voice said, “Now that’s serendipity.” Another, “It happens all the time. You just have to be alert.” I left smiling, happy to be part of such a splendid community.