The Very Oldest Librarian In The World
Known ... and Unknown
He's a Librarian. He's old. End of story.
Whoa!
Don't tell him that! Not from where he's actually standing! He would disagree. Wouldn't you? There's more. Lots. Like the guy filling up at the gas station, he's just a guy filling up at the gas station. To him, there's more to the story. Kapische? All that living adds up to something. No?
Net, net ... there's more.
In his "office" there's a small desk, with a small chair, and a small lamp. A small space hidden under the double winding most elaborate and ironically disproportionately large art nouveau mahogany wood carved staircase leading to the stacks where the historic treasures and classics are shelved. Though it's a tiny space, the walls are lined with books, and books, and books. The ceiling is plastered with Playbills from Broadway shows. We don't know why that last one is. Just imagine the ambiance bubbling in that place.
Those books. On what subjects you may ask? Let me ask you this first. What kind of books would Librarians keep to themselves with all the books in the world virtually at their fingertips, and right at hand in a short order of time. Why have what boils down to a library in a library? There's an answer, but the story is unfolding and you and I both will have to wait a bit to find out the particulars on that point. This writing wasn't imagined fully baked, it is more of the "unfolding" kind. I make it up as I go.
Which brings up the related but completely tangential subject of "Ownership". [It's most of the Law I've heard.] Can you imagine in those early, early days sorting out ownership? "Hey, lookie here! Who's is this She-one? Come get this bitch, and take her back to your cave! That Stegosaurus ain't gonna cook itself!"
*** POSSIBLE GROUNDS FOR TAKING OFFENCE ALLERT *** Which further brings up the whole Enchilada mixta of ... "Gender Studies". Not to belabor the tangent, but to cut to the chase: Do you know how to tell a male chromosome from a female chromosome? Just pull down their genes! That's as far as I can go on that subject. What the F ever you want to call anything, it's still what it is. What are you? What am I? Chopped Liver?
Whew! Well, you are reading this on Wronski's Wramblings, so it's part of it.
So this old guy ... I was going to make him out to be some clichรฉ stereotype: hobbling around his little world all bent over, shaped there like some trail cowboy's well worn saddle from years of bending over his books. In fact though this old man has the regal sovereign posture of a prince. A King? Well they'd all say when he was a lad that prince surely has king potential.
Einstein shock of silver on the keppe. Wizened beard. Trimmed, but not shaped like the too many of those guys of a certain age who make their hirsute appearance a kind of facial topiary art form. The requisite heavy cardigan sweater with the requisite moth eaten holes. Patches added to the elbows after having worn thoroughly through. The aroma of years of Tobacco smoke with definite, serious hints of Oriental nights and adventures wafting invisibly like a veritable olfactory immersive environment.
His name. Joe. Just plain Joe. "Old Joe."
"Old Joe" was a campus legend.
Oh, did it not get mentioned that the aforementioned library is on a college campus. Not a university. A college. One singular specialty curriculum.
NOTE TO READER: This is where things get interactive. To determine the name of the college and the whole story that goes with that, please click the QR code below. Flat fee per single use; discounts available, sliding scale varies with multiple usages. Subscriptions available as well. Your access rights to the material are not transferrable. In fact, if you even let anyone but you read the story, we will find you. You will pay. And then some. Kapische?
Okay. Wow! Are you still with me? That old Librarian. Oh! Did I mention the Cat? There's a cat. Bit, fat, Calico. A face that would make even the devil himself whimper away like a total pussy. Mostly aloof, but highly territorial. With claws. So behave! You know how Cats seem to rule their roost. They took the mold for trait right that off this Kitty. Me ... Ow! A cat, but not a pussy.
Joe was a good Librarian. What is that? Google it yourself, what do think this is written for? Suffice: "Good" in a way that other Librarians would concur. Okay? Let's not dwell.
What was his speciality? His main interest? His academic excellence?
Go to the QR Code again for all the side story, including links to a real live direct career consulting agent contact for anyone interested in the Librarian career track.
But we're not out to take all your cash. We work the numbers. A little becomes a lot when you multiply by the millions. So you're gonna get the answer to that question about who the F is that guy. And, what's his deal. If you care to read [slog] on.
At some point, anyway.
Then there's the dog. Yes, a dog. Boerboel breed. This one a nearly 200 pound chunk of wrath of God resolute and uncompromising protector, Rock of Gibraltar solidity.
Interesting how this little doggy earns his keep. Brohim — that's his name — delivers books to library patrons in the main reading room. Works like this: You give the floor librarian your book(s) request, and when the material is down from the stacks a bell summons Brohim for a pick up. He's saddled with carry bags for to the carrying of books; and he finds the very each individual waiting for the requested books by an electronic number device app synched to an electronic chip given to the recipient at the time of the book request. How that gentle beast clues in to that signal is a neat bit of IT tech all by itself; but let's not get you into yet another tangent. Go to the QR. Pay up, and find out more.
As for as the protective nature of this canine behemoth, let's just say that there haven't been any goings on in the library since from day one when he arrived on the scene. By "goings on" let's just say that before things got sorted out doggy style, the library was not just for books. It was ground zero on campus for private, up-in-the-stacks liaisons of all kinds and manner. "Hook ups in the books." Boola boola! Not to say that there aren't "goings on" any more, but not on Brohim's watch; or turf.
So, what else. Oh! The librarian himself, and his books.
Okay. So, hisself. Well, he knows books. Duh. But, we'd like to know what kind of books he's into. Personally. Not just for where to put them on what shelves.
For some reason which goes mysteriously unexplained the gent is into picnics. Like going to picnics. And, books about picnics. There's such a thing, you know. And, of course, if you're into that genre, there are plenty of movies based on and/or featuring such. Let's also not overlook art. Not to reinvent the wheel ... just go search "Picnics in Art" and you'll get a snoot full. There's even a book by a guy I know, The Picnic: A History; it's devoted to food on blankets on the grass. And, even a website ... quite possibly covering the subject to the ne plus ultra.
The thing is this, from whatever your starting point, vantage, or frame of reference ... if you're into something it leads to other things. No matter what. Like the subject of "Baking". It's a slippery slope and soon you'll be shopping for Farmers Cheese to mix with Sour Cream and Chives to stuff those famous Polish dough filled Pierogis. Or, Fish. So many avenues branch from that one little slippery subject. Or, how Bhagavan Nityananda exhorted, "The heart is the hub of all sacred pilgrimages ... go there and roam".\
As you might suspect an obvious area of interest springboarding from that picnic business would be entomology. Entomology? Yes. In a word ... ants. Duh.
It's all connected, haven't you heard. That said, there are books on his private shelves on Quantum Magnetic Resonance Energy Fields delving into the Atomic Physics behind the interplay of the minutely coordinated balance of the Universe. Which, naturally, gets you into Psychology and Astrology. Philosophy too.
He's also well versed on Pizza, so you know the permutations on that. BTW, with a special devoted subsection on that topic as per the State of New Jersey. Did you know there's a famous New Jersey Pizza joint, Pizza Town, where they cut the Pepperoni slices into quarters? That's a story in itself.
There's more, but you get the picture. "Ubiquitron" might be a good handle on him. But, even with all that erudition, he's a man of few words. Not one to trot out his knowledge. What sets Old Joe apart is that he's a man of knowing. And, like they say ... the one who knows, he don't talk. But, let's be clear, just because someone don't talk, don't me they know. Kapische? And, you can be sure, he's a man of knowing because he knows that he doesn't know. Know what I mean. If you need more on that, ask Aristotle. Or, Socrates. One of them, anyway.
And, the story title did mention that he's old ... the oldest. How old? Well, like I said, he's not saying. Just imagine though how long it's taken to amass that collection on his shelves. Story goes that his beard is so long, it's such an ongoing issue that it gets caught in between so often when he closes a book.
So, here's you QR Code:
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