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This website is an informal communication forum for staff members of the University of Oregon Library Staff Association. Contents and opinions expressed herein or on linked personal or external pages are those of individual authors and do not represent official statements, policies, or positions of the Library, the University of Oregon, Oregon University System, or State of Oregon.

Wild Bee Summer

The summer I was four set a high water mark for happiness. That summer lasted an lifetime, encompassing my entire experience of the past. As far as I knew, I had always been four, and I would always be four. It was an excellent age. There was no need to be anything else. There was a fusion between my self and my milieu; I was at one with the world.

I wanted more than anything else to be a farmer. It was my desire to spend my days feeding friendly docile animals and petting their soft furry coats. At that time, we were living in a rented, falling down farmhouse in the countryside near Salem. I wanted what we had. It was perfect.

Every day on the farm was a study in gracious living. My little sister and I arose early. We would come down stairs dressed in our swiss-dot days-of-the-week panties. While my mom still slept, we helped ourselves to heaping bowls of Krispy Kritters, without milk. We would take the bowls outside into the fragrant, cool summer morning, and greet the dawn with a breakfast picnic. Most of the morning was spent wandering around the farmyard. While leisurely eating the cereal, I would tell my sister how things worked. We would tour the barn, the corncrib, the tool shed and other points of interest around the farmyard. We'd look at things leathery, dusty, cobwebby, pointy, coiled, toothed, rusty, oily, smooth, shiny, dirty, feathery, moldy, musty. We discovered objects piled over with old feed sacks, overgrown with tall weeds, or hidden beneath a crust of old dried barn manure and hay. The farm smells were classified by how they made us sneeze, either pleasurably or painfully.

My father worked the graveyard shift, and it was my mother's job to keep the kids from making too much noise while he slept during the day. So we spent our waking hours outside, from dawn until dusk. We ate on the porch. If we scooted away fast enough in the morning, we didn't even have to get dressed. We could wear our panties to the dinner table. It was an arrangement that suited everyone perfectly.

The farmyard was mostly abandoned. There was a sad old horse behind an electrical fence. Neither the horse nor we were willing to approach the fence very closely. My sister and I would crouch down in the tall grass a few feet away and observe as the horse with drooping head tore at the grass and slowly munched it. It watched us cautiously out of the corner of its old, murky eyes. Occasionally, we would roll little apples under the fence, and watch as the horse sniffed at them, rippling its nostrils and whuffing. It would delicately pick up each apple with outstretched lips, then chew them morosely. We could watch this beast for hours. Sometimes, the horse would make inexplicable horse noises, exposing all its worn yellow teeth and stretching out its neck. Its skin would flinch. Clouds of flies would rise from the shuddering skin and hover, then slowly settle again. We watched dispassionately, like little scientists.

Crouching in the tall grass was a pleasure all on its own. The grass was a convenient place to hide out from my older brother, when he was in a tormenting frame of mind, or just to be alone for a while. Overhead, the faded blue sky stretched itself too thin, the sun burning holes through it. The wind whispered, and the grass obediently made moving patterns flowing this way and that. Clouds sent their silent shadows swiftly rolling over me, cooling the top of my head. Once, I watched a little snake with two long grasshopper legs sticking from its mouth smoothly slide, then pause, then slide away from sight.

Occasionally, visitors showed up at the farm. One day, while my sister and I were wandering around behind the house savoring our Krispy Kritters, we came across the meter reader, a frustrated young man.

"I don't suppose either of you knows where the meter is?" he asked, hopelessly. Of course we did not. We followed him at a safe distance as he continued searching. Around the corner was the place where the covered porch had been belatedly added to the rest of the house. A narrow corridor had been left between the house and the addition.

The meter man reached the crawlspace and hesitated, trying to see what could be at the end of the narrow dark alley. "Do you think the meter could be in there?" he asked me. I said sure. Anything could be lurking in that shadowy spot, including the meter, whatever that might be. My sister and I never went back there; my father had sternly warned us to stay out.

The meter reader started to slide sideways into the narrow corridor, his hat twisted, his clipboard ready in his right hand. As he disappeared from sight, something occurred to me.

"Watch out for the black widow spiders!" I called out to him. We heard a muffled cry, a clattering and bumping, then the meter man shot out of the crawl space slapping himself and clawing at his shirt. My sister and I were stunned. We had never seen grownups behave this way, and it frightened us. My sister began to weep.

"Spiders! Do you see any spiders on me?" the meter man screamed. He put his head down and frantically slapped at his hair with both hands, dropping the clipboard. Papers scattered and began to drift around in the breeze. In fact, there was a small spider dangling down the middle of his shirt back, but, considering his unpredictable behavior, I thought it best not to mention it.

My father, awakened from his daytime sleep, marched around the corner of the house with an irked look on his face. "What in hell is going on out here?" he demanded. We ran off in the opposite direction, leaving the meter man to his fate.

That summer, the local beekeeper pried open a section of the wall in the old barn. Watching from behind the screen door on the covered porch, I could see the agitated mass of bees swarming around the barn. Soon, the bee cloud enveloped the farmyard and the house, angry bees swatting the porch screen. My dad and the farm owner, standing some distance away in the pasture, suddenly began to run. My mother shut us into the house. Only the beekeeper in his veiled, white suit, looking like an astronaut-bride, was unalarmed. He continued dipping wild honey and large chunks of dark honeycomb into an enameled wash tub. Angry bees immolated themselves in the sticky honey that dripped down the front of his suit, but the bee man worked on, unmoved.

My mom boiled and canned quarts of wild honey. The whole house smelled like flowers and wax for days. A sip of that wild honey was like tasting joy. It was sweet and hot and tangy. In the mason jars the honey was a dark, smoky amber. Cooled beeswax curled and crusted around the tops of the jars. We chewed the wax like gum. We had to keep the doors and windows shut, despite the hot weather, for the wild bees smelled the honey, too, and they wanted it back. They knocked against the windows, and prowled up and down the door cracks, looking for a way in. Eventually, they gave up, and went to join their queen in slavery at the beekeeper's farm down the road.

The unusually hot and long summer resulted in a drought that year. Returning from work at dawn one morning, my father spotted a mountain lion drinking at the cattle watering tank in the pasture. That was the end of our wandering around and crouching in the tall grass. We were allowed to play only in the farmyard and only on the side visible from the house. Our noise kept my father awake. He stood by the bedroom window, watching the far edge of the pasture where the fields merged with the woods. He now kept a .22 on top of the china cabinet in the living room, which made my mother nervous. It was unloaded, but my dad insisted that she keep some shells in her housedress pocket just in case. Mom worried herself sick, frequently flying out the kitchen door to track down a missing child. She startled at the random patterns the wind blew into the tall grass, imagining she saw the long, graceful backbone of a stalking cat among the tawny grass heads.

I was delighted about the cougar. I saved sandwiches from lunch and threw them out into the pasture, hoping to lure the big cat closer so I could get a good look at it and maybe pet it. All three of us kids worked feverishly at building a really big and strong cougar trap, incorporating old bee-eaten boards, rusty nails banged in with rocks, strands of barbed wire, and lengths of rotten baling twine. We left it in the driveway, and my father backed over it with the car. He threw our trap over the electric fence onto the old board pile, dashing all our hopes.

Then the well went dry. The faucets made screechy, bumpy noises and spurted smelly brown liquid. My mother stopped bathing the kids, which was fine by us. My father brought home plastic jugs of water from town. He was looking for a new place to rent.

One day my parents took us to visit my grandparents. When they picked us up several hours later, they took us to an unfamiliar house in the middle of town. All our stuff was stacked up in boxes against the walls. The rooms were empty smelling and cold. The bare light bulbs hanging in the hallway gave off a weak, sinister light. The shadows at the top of the stairs were scary.

Traffic poured up and down the busy street in front of our new house. I could barely hear above the constant racket. Even inside the house, we found ourselves yelling to one another, as though we were standing at opposite corners of the pasture. Outside the house, we felt exposed. I felt people staring at me from all sides. At night I dreamed about hiding in the tall grass. During the day, I sat on the front porch. I watched the neighbors, the mailman, the strangers pouring by in their noisy automobiles. Their ceaseless motion seemed frantic and pointless to me. I often thought about the sad old horse. I missed it.

The weather mellowed and the leaves turned colors. Then it began to rain, and the rain washed away the last bit of summer from the sky. Frost burned our bare feet in the morning. We put on sweaters and tights and shoes to go outside. I was getting used to all the commotion and the crowding. Our new neighborhood was crammed with kids, and we had playmates for the first time. I turned five, and began to look forward to going to school. There were games and friends and (for the first time) television.

By the time summer came again, my mother had opened the last jar of wild honey. In the jar was a preserved honey bee, suspended in the amber liquid, its wings outstretched. It looked as if it might still sting.

--L. Sexton

Letters to the Editor:

Send us your comments and suggestions. We always love to hear from our readers!

A New LSA Year

Volunteers for the 1999/2000 LSA year were welcomed at the Gonzo Review, but we think their names bear repeating here:

Publicity Committee: Andrew Howell, Marion Obar

House Committee: Lesli Larson, Audrey Lee, Lisa Sieracki, Susan Stumpf

Social Committee: Cathy Flynn-Purvis, Linda Hodgin, Duffy Knaus, Stephanie Midkiff, Ann Muller, Shelia Stigall

Ways and Means Committee: Jim Galbraith, Dennis Hyatt, Susan Mincks, Lisa Sieracki

Program Committee: Colleen Bell, Barbara S. Butler, Duffy Knaus, Jean Murphy

Welcome Committee: Mischa Buczkowski, Joanne Halgren, Stan Hall, Terry Smith, Carrie Yates, Linda Zimmerman

Web/Newsletter Committee: Chelle Batchelor, Jim Galbraith, Mary Grenci, Lara Nesselroad, Lonni Sexton, Mark Watson

Kathy Wittwer will remain as Treasurer, and Harriett Smith and Lisa Sieracki will remain active on the Executive Council as previous Co-Chairs.

LSA has grown rapidly in the last couple of years, and it looks like this may shape up to be one of our best years yet! LSA Committees have begun to meet, and plan to make brief reports at George Shipman's state-of-the library address.

OPEU Bakesale a Success!

Members of the library staff put their bakesale skills to use on August 17. Set up in front of the Bookstore, they raised over $575 for OPEU Local 85's Strike Hardship Fund. The union is preparing for the unfortunate possibility of a strike against the Oregon University System in September. In addition to baking a wide array of goods, Library staff also worked the table. Those present enjoyed the time chatting with all the supporters who stopped to contribute. "It went well ... It was very relaxed, and very fast" said Sherrie Soleim of her half hour at the table.

Ellen Klaastad, chair of the local hardship committee, declared the sale a success. She indicated that another bakesale is planned for September 9th, and plans are being made for benefit concerts, carwashes, an auction, and other fundraisers. Anyone interested in more information is invited to contact Ellen, Sherrie, Lisa, or another member of the Union Contract Action Team.

-Erik Dahl

How I Spent My Spring and Summer Vacations

How many librarians does it take to move a library? Well, it all depends on who does the math. As you know, the law library, and indeed the entire law school, moved from Grayson Hall into its new digs at the William W. Knight Law Center on Agate Street in May. With the move came a new appellation -- the John E. Jaqua Law Library. And what a move it was!

Phase I of the move actually began in mid March, during the law school's spring break. For 3 weeks, the librarians worked alongside, as well as supervised, temporary work crews from Good Will Industries. It was a real challenge to work with individuals, some of whom were simply down on their luck, but others with a colorful past who were socially and legally challenged, shall we say. In fact, we had problems with recidivism, and the initial work force was reduced by about 1/3 by the end of the 3 weeks. We take for granted that our co-workers are reasonable, mature people and differences are resolved through discussion, understanding and compromise. So it caught us off guard one day when Angus and I had to mediate a potential imbroglio, and we were relieved there was a heavy door separating the two would-be combatants.

During Phase I, parts of the library collection housed at the Glenwood Storage Facility and in Room 38 of the basement of Knight Library were moved into a basement paging area of the new law library. This was made more challenging by the fact that the materials that we were ready to move into particular locations of the new law library did not necessarily coincide withthe parts of the building that were finished and marginally ready to be occupied. Additionally we had to take into consideration the law students (pesky details) vis-à-vis the noise factor and dismantling the collection around them in the old building.

In April we were able to get back to some semblance of our regular library duties, but as soon as final exams were over for the law students in early May, we again began moving the collection and our offices into the new building. We were able to handpick which of the previous temporary workers we wanted for Phase II of the move, and we made up the shortfall through another temporary employment agency.

The library was released to us in sections floor-by-floor, and again we had to coordinate moving parts of the collection from the old building when the corresponding space became available in the new building. This was complicated further by the fact that we were changing the organization of the collection. Some materials that had been in the Reading Room in Grayson would continue to be located there in the new library, but others would be switched out with some materials previously located in stacks. Also, because of the call number runs for the 3rd and 4th floors, we had to split the periodicals collection (K1 through K30) between the south ends of both those floors. The law library shut down only 3 days of operation during this time, and in fact, the law center was open for summer school and bar review by May 24.

During the move, we discovered new strengths and weaknesses about ourselves and our co-workers. For instance, it took just a few days of Mary Clayton's absence during a crucial part of the move for us to realize that she was THE institutional memory for the details of the move and the proposed layout of the collection, with Angus being a close runner up. (Did you realize that Angus Nesbit could print more notes on a piece of 8.5 x 11 paper than a microfiche card holds?)

We also had the "Angus opportunity" in which the KA through KEZ call number sections, comprising several ranges, were inadvertently omitted from the mix and had to be stored on wooden moving carts until we could make room for them in the collection. And the other librarians found out how really math impaired I am when I was given the task of calculating the number of shelves needed to accommodate 8 stand-alone frames. I came up with a figure in excess of 300 when the correct number was 112! Shelves, sections, ranges, double-faced, single-faced -- it's all the same to me!

The energy we burned off and the stress of the move also caused us to consume copious amounts of food including carrots and various other raw vegetables, rice cakes, Cheezits, pop, and Laffy Taffy during our debriefing meetings after the temporary workers had left for the day.

All-in-all, it's great to be moved and into our new light and airy work space, and we hope you'll come visit. We'll try to set up some tours after the building dedication in September. For now, we've got most of the collection settled in where it should be, and we were ready to greet the incoming class of law students on their first day of class August 18, as well as those 2Ls and 3Ls who were anxious to enjoy their new law center!

Submitted by Stephanie Midkiff

Kudos

Publications:

Congratulations to our very own Chelle Batchelor!. Her article, "ILL Student Generates Millionth ILL request", was reprinted in the August edition of OCLC Pacific News Update & Calendar. The article originally appeared in the June 1999 Library Staff Association news.

Promotions:

Congratulations to the following library staff and faculty who were promoted over the summer:

Jill Holman -- Assistant Professor to Associate Professor
Lesli Larson -- Reformatting Technicial to Project Microfilm Supervisor, Officer of Administration/Manager
Nancy Slight-Gibney -- Assistant Professor to Associate Professor
Christine Sundt -- Associate Professor to Professor.
Rose Thomas -- Library Technician 2 to Library Technician 3

Speakers:

Richard Heinzkill was a panel speaker and attended the Information Literacy conference in Newport, OR, July 14-15.

Woops!...More Kudos

Laine Stambaugh (Personnel) and Bernie McTigue (Special Collections) also contributed articles to the Summer 1999 edition of the OLA Quarterly. The editors regret leaving their names out of the July LSA newsletter.

The Support Staff Division of OLA held its Gateways 1999 Conference in Eugene on July 16. Staff from the UO who attended are: Chelle Batchelor, Charlotte Conlin, Deanne DuFresne, Cathy Flynn-Purvis, Catherine Heising, Susan Mincks, Marilyn Mohr, Michael Montague, Shirien Stevens (presenter), Harriett Smith, Don Swain, Avis Thompson, Sylvia Worrix, and Aimee Yogi

Report from Don Swain, Science Library

I attended my first OLA/SSD conference last Friday, at the Eugene Hilton, and can honestly say I look forward to the next one. The registration table was well staffed and ready with a full assortment of conference material, mugs, and t-shirts, and after my reception and at least two cups of strong coffee, I was ready to dive into the four sessions. The opening general session was great with an inspirational speaker (Diane Welsh, President of the Council on Library/Media Technicians), and introductions from around the room, which spanned the state with Corvallis, Springfield, Grants Pass, and Sisters/Bend among the libraries represented. It was interesting to talk to library staffers and compare notes, and gave me a sense of community that I didn't have before, and wouldn't likely have in a room of MLS librarians, as our experiences and perspectives are different.

The morning sessions for me included a lecture on book binding, with historical and modern craft approaches illustrated with slides and physical examples. This presentation was by Patricia Grass of Green Heron Book Arts, Forest Grove, a founder of the Oregon Book Arts Guild. I'll never look at a binding as quickly again! My second session was on collection moving (shifting) with Shirien Stevens doing the honors. I'm always looking for ideas on this procedure, since the Science Library is locked into what seems to be a perpetual shift. While I did take a few tips home (reward the shifters with chocolate!), I was most impressed with the variety of shifts from large to small, and the inevitability of shifting in all libraries. I'd say there are three things we can count on: death, taxes, and shifting.

The afternoon sessions (after a superb lunch) included a lively and interesting presentation on ergonomics. Bill Prucha stressed common sense and low tech approaches to making things easier on ourselves. From using towels to soften the floor for kneeling, or rolling them up for lumbar support in our chairs, there were a lot of good tips. The last session of the day for me was a presentation by local author Elizabeth Lyon, who recounted the trials, tribulations, and inspirations of becoming a published author in this region. So, in summary, it is good to know there are others out there in the support staff universe who keep the wheels turning. And it is good to know our library encourages the staff to attend such interesting conferences.

Report from Catherine Heising: The Evaluation Story

Filling out an evaluation form at the end of a conference or workshop is always a challenge. Either the event is too stimulating and you connect with someone, and there is only time to scribble, or the form just doesn't ask the right questions. If you take an evaluation form home with you, good luck. At my house it would become part of a sedimentary layer of papers, bills, and magazines on the diningroom table. I am a detail-person and I don't like forms. There's always something wrong with them. Either they emphasize the wrong things, ask too many questions, or just back your mind into compartments.

If everyone wrote a couple of paragraphs instead, you'd probably get a big mess, however, something you couldn't easily boil down. But a conference drawing support staff from all sorts of libraries statewide is going to be big, and messy-but I saw it as a good kind of messy, full of open faces, high spirits, and creative energy.

Though it's been several decades since I was a teen, and approximately one before my older daughter reaches the mark, I found I wanted the session on "Young Adults" to go beyond the time limit. There were guest experts and a lot of participation. The teens had the packed room really listening. No one knew what would come next. We were all learning. Ten minutes into a session called "Getting What You Want" I wanted to get out and into another session that had looked interesting to me, but I stuck it out, thinking there must be something I need to learn. There are many different learning styles. Patience. What you want might not be where you think it is. Listen.

Instead of merely "which sessions were the most interesting and informative?" I'd like to extend the question into the messy realm of storytelling by asking "-and why?" Not everyone is going to have time to answer why they thought something was interesting, but a few thoughtful sentences here and there might inform both author and evaluator! And what did I learn that day at the Eugene Hilton? There were too many interesting sessions to be able to attend them all. Conferences are valuable for support staff-to see into other areas of "the library," to inspire, to meet. And with so many different people who have chosen to work in libraries surely stories abound to educate and fascinate. And when forms or presenters don't inspire I wonder if someday I might participate more and have something engaging to say to a room full of library support staff.

Conference Attendees:

The following staff attended the Oregon Library Association Gateways '99conference at the Hilton Hotel in Eugene, OR, July 16:

Michelle Batchelor
Charlotte Conlin
Deanne DuFresne
Catherine Flynn-Purvis
Catherine Heising
Susan Mincks
Marilyn Mohr
Michael Montegue
Harriett Smith
Donald Swain
Avis Thompson
Sylvia Worrix
Aimee Yogi

Been to an interesting conference? Send us a brief report for publication in the next newsletter. Thanks!

Reference Department Hosts Big Bash for Jon

The reference department hosted a well-attended farewell party for Jon Cawthorne and his family on July 21. Many people throughout the Library came to say goodbye to Jon and wish him well in his new job at Detroit Public Library. Other guests included Tim and Mark Jenkins, Lawrence Crumb, and several student friends of Jon. The reference department supplied a healthy lunch, but it was amazing to see that what people really wanted was the sinful stuff. The rich, chocolate goodies disappeared quickly!

Jon's wife, Sharon, and their three children, TJ (9), Nayomi (5) and Mica (2) added their energy to the festivities. TJ and Nayomi shared their thoughts about the move. Nayomi told me that "she couldn't read any more of her books since her Mom had already packed them". TJ was spending a lot of time with friends and was going to miss them. They were all excited about the move.

Sharon and Jon seemed remarkably calm as they prepared for the last hectic week of packing and moving their family to a new city. Jon contributed this calmness to the fact that Sharon is incredibly organized and had a day by day plan for getting everything done. Jon had lots of goodbyes to say and was finishing up some reports on library outreach and the Peer Library Advising Network (PLAN). His new job already had him working - they sent him the four library employee union contracts to read in his spare time!

Barbara Jenkins
Under-cover Reporter

Click on links below to see movie clips from the party. Not all staff computers may be capable of displaying these clips. If a window pops up warning you of a possible security hazard, click the option to "Open it".

• Jon and Sharon's kids: Micah, Nayomi and T.J.
• Jon's kids again
• Tim Jenkins and Jon's friend Waweru Gaatimu
• Tom Stave, Sharon Cawthorne, Andrew Bonamici, and the food!
• Rose Thomas, Jean Murphy, Sharon Cawthorne, and panorama
• Laine Stambaugh and Jon
• Jon and Nancy Slight-Gibney
• Harriett Smith, Cathy Flynn-Purvis and Jon
• Jon and family in front of the Library

Movie clips courtesy of Laine Stambaugh, who didn't realize she wasn't taking stills.

Check out this month's book reviews!

East of the Mountains, by David Guterson.
Reviewed by Lara Nesselroad

September staff profiles:

Nancy Loya, Special Processes Clerk, Circulation Department

Larry Laliberte, Map/GIS Librarian

Classified Ads

Welcome to the LSA News Classified Ads!

For a year now, people have been putting up announcements and advertisements on the LSA Public Bulletin Board and many have found this to be a successful way to get the word out about things and sell stuff. Your editors have decided to make this service even more useful, so with this issue of the News we are making some changes. The Public Bulletin Board is now called Classified Ads, and ads posted in the previous month will be included as a new section at the end of each newsletter.

Postings can be made or viewed at any time by clicking on the newly named Classified Ads link on the sidebar or within each month's Classified Ads section. Ads will appear in the first issue of the newsletter published after posting and will continue to be available via the Classified Ads page for six months. If you wish to have the ad removed before then, please contact the editors. If you'd like your ad to appear in the newsletter more than once, simply re-submit it each month you want it to appear.

For Sale: LLadro porcelein sculpture of Boy with Yacht. Asking $100. Harriett Smith, Catalog Dept.

For sale: wooden race-car bed with mattress (twin size), 4-drawer dresser and large cabinet for child's room. $100 for all. Linda Ivy, Systems

I have a single waterbed .... anybody want it? (Taelyn got a king sized one and so doesn't need his single one anymore.) 6-1914, Shirien, AcS

Go to Classified Ads to view older ads or to post a new one!