post #9

an elderly man came up to the reference desk to fill in voter registration.

“hold on,” he says, “gotta call the wife.  she’s got all my ID cards.”

he flips his phone open, puts it on speakerphone.

voice recognition: “please say the name of the person you would like to contact.”

he holds it close to his mouth, clearing his throat, and with an unmistakable tone, he says:

“The Governor.”

post #8

Sometimes while working, I will scribble little notations to myself of interesting stories worth blogging. Then I accidentally throw away the scrap sheets.

I haven’t yet written about the tornadoes on January 07, I realized. I simply recall only hearing the warnings as I drove on my way to work. And upon reaching the desk, had the rustling of whispered voices of what would happen. Within 30 minutes, and WHILE I was reading the safety handbook, the sirens alarmed and of course, we had to shuffle the patrons to safe locations. The rise and fall of alarms left us to believe we ought to remain in the hallway, the patrons free to go on their own accord. Altogether I believe there were over 30 tornadoes in the surrounding area, over 70 warnings.

Surely it doesn’t sound like a suspense novel, and it really wasn’t. My only interesting moment was having to cradle the radio, for if I left it, the static would blare. It had separation issues.

After a while, Periodicals decided to keep us occupied by giving us an array of magazines to entertain ourselves, and the Meeting Room Coordinator set up a TV so we could watch the weather forecast, with whatever we could receive with simple rabbit-ear antennas.

I do recall, however, two separate foreign families, who took a while to explain the situation. They made me happy. I wanted to ask them about their lives.

Other than that, every other scare and warning was far from us. And the rest of the night was simple history. “Remember the tornadoes?” “Oh yeah. Remember the ice storm?”

post #7

Today, I discovered when driver’s licenses were first required in the state of Illinois.  Look for the year, but I can tell you that it was on May 1.

Truly, a writer will have no problems with ideas if they simply read news stories.  Take, for example, the wait for an Indonesian King (please do read that article).  Or the plan to blow up a satellite so it doesn’t reach the earth, or everything major like the tragic shooting in Illinois… of which I plead dear God for comfort upon the suffering (ps 119.50)

On another note, a woman called because her shift button on her computer keyboard was stuck, and she “can’t sign into Yahoo Messenger.”  She was terribly upset to say the least, moreso irritated that I could not assist her.

How despairing, to be around all this information ready to be had, and yet, still have other responsibilities that take away from a plunge into new things.

Currently:
reading non-fiction: Letters to a Young Artist (Julia Cameron)
reading fiction: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (Junot Diaz)
audiobooking: Holes (Louis Sachar) and Lemony Snicket
listening to: Uakti: Aguas da Amazonia (Philip Glass)
watching: The Bicycle Thief and I’m Not Scared

hmph.

post #6

I wish I could update this while I am at work. I would have an abundance of stories, plus a lot of reviews, comments, etc.

Currently, I am astounded by a forceful phone call by a woman helping her 4th-grade son write a quick homework about child labor. There were two questions, the first I cannot remember (though I remember starkly it relating to Africa and cacao beans, because she did not know what cacao beans were – and I don’t say that to demean her). The second was, why does Africa have the highest child-labor rate? I told her my opinion: it’s probably because they are trying to boost the economy by increasing the workforce, but I recommended she check authoritative sources, like Human Rights Watch. Her response (or supposition) was, “You know, I have to wonder,” she started, “do you think they’re making a lot of kids work because Africa is running out of adults?”

I was startled. Is “startled” too crude of an understatement?

post #5

i’m trying to recall the already-happened stories.

once i get a long-distance phone call from a woman looking for a recipe for pumpkin pie biscotti, then gave me the phone number for her mother so i can relay the recipe to her.

and there are always the basic shockers, such as people calling for the number of KFC or the Dillon’s on such and such street. or the woman who called with a list of fifteen different phone numbers with no caller ID’s – she’d like to know if she recognized the folk to be telemarketers or long lost friends.

or the woman in velour sweats with old mascara running down her face, wondering where the self-help section is.

or the pair of women wanting to know about a kidney disease affecting only 3% of victims.

once i babysat an 11-yr-old who could tell me everything you ever needed to know about the world trade center and the 9/11 attack.  he could also tell me everything about the titanic and lusitania, which i’m probably spelling wrong, because he corrected me the first time around (evidently, i haven’t corrected my knowledge yet).  his grandmother set only THREE books for him to borrow, but upon stumbling across the large selection of Twin Towers books, he scooped them all up, as much as he could carry.  “I don’t think you’re grandmother would appreciate that,” I lightly said.  He shrugged.  “Nah, I could just sweet talk her.”  I raised an eyebrow, but he was unphased.  “Once,” he exemplified, “I sweet-talked her into giving me a hundred bucks!”  Indeed, though with brief hesitancy, he was allowed the stack-full.  I rolled my eyes in amusement.

I realized I didn’t actually post this when I first wrote it.