Libraries Are Not Just For Books

 

There was a news story recently about a book that was finally returned to the Vancouver Public Library, 50 years overdue. What surprised me most was when I realized I was working there when that book was originally checked out! Yes, my connection to libraries goes back a long way.

Before computers and Google and all of that, there were card files and librarians and library assistants like me. If you wanted to do a search for something, you either called or walked up to a librarian and asked your question and she or he did the legwork.

Back then you had librarian intelligence, not the artificial kind. Well, librarians still have plenty of intelligence, don’t get me wrong. Librarians and library technicians have to go through several years of university. Did you know that?

I remember working the occasional Friday night at the library, when there would inevitably be a call from some inebriated guy sitting in a local pub, wanting to settle an argument with his buddy about which sports team won this or that in such-and-such a year.

These days, they can Google it. If they’re not too drunk to spell, that is.

When home computers came along, I remember worrying if digital technology was going to take over the usefulness of libraries.

I didn’t need to worry at all because libraries have adapted and are doing just fine.

Reading is one thing I’ve been doing a lot more of since I’ve retired. Now, don’t start picturing an old grey-haired lady in a rocking chair with a history encyclopedia, please. For your information, I dye my hair.

No, my method of reading is by e-book, either using an e-book reader or Libby, a free app that basically does the same thing. I’ve found and read entire series’ that way.

I got a library card from the Greater Victoria Public Library when I first moved to Victoria in the 80’s. But as life got busier and busier, reading a book was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Except for reading to my small children, that is.

Then a few years back I decided I should renew my library card. I still had it, but it was long, long past the renewal date. I walked in to a branch of GVPL, expecting to go up to a desk and get issued a new one. But when a clerk walked up to me and I told her what I needed to do, she pulled out a hand held device sort of like a credit card reader at a restaurant, and did it all using just that.

I hope I didn’t look too stupefied when she handed my card back.

And that was it. I could now borrow physical books, e-books, magazines, all kinds of things, to my heart’s content. Libraries have a lot more than books, even more so these days.

There are all kinds of programs for adults, kids, tweens and teens including reading groups, information sessions and community support programs. You can learn English, learn how to replace important ID cards, and go for a Summer Story Walk.

There are virtual events like BC Libraries Present where you can log in to meet and listen to award-winning authors. At the Esquimalt Branch, The Lab lets you convert photos, VHS tapes, cassette tapes, and other media to digital formats.

And all of the things you can borrow! Video games (even the Nintendo Switch 2), movies, music, audio books.

I was a computer operator when I left the Vancouver Public Library, which was one of the first library systems in the country to become automated. As a parting gift, my boss, Mr. Peters, handed me a book. Of course.

It was called “Gutenberg Two”. The Gutenberg was the original printing press that revolutionized the world of information. Suddenly, people who could read could learn all kinds of things.

The second Gutenberg, according to this book, was the computer. And boy, has the computer ever changed the world.

But it hasn’t put libraries out of business!

So do yourself a favour and check out our local library some time. You might be surprised at what they have to offer.

Oh, and the family that returned that book 50 years late? The library forgave the fine, which means they can still borrow books.

Phew.

IJ

You Move Too Fast – Thoughts on Lower Speed Limits

 

I remember taking my driver’s test a few years back. Okay, more than a few years back. It was in downtown Vancouver in the middle of rush hour and I was nervous. But I was managing to follow the rules and doing okay.

That is, until my instructor/tester told me to make a left turn from a busy thoroughfare onto a side street. I signaled a left turn and stopped, watching the oncoming traffic and looking for a gap. I saw one and decided to make my move.

As I turned the car, I realized there was an old guy walking across that side street. Slowly. I had to stop for him just as a swarm of traffic was coming towards me. I sat there, blocking the oncoming cars, and nervously waited.

Let’s just say the old guy made it to the other side. Of the street, I mean. But me, I failed my driver’s test, though I eventually took it again, and passed.

When I moved to Victoria a couple of years later, life was literally at a different speed. There were a lot of older drivers on the roads who were definitely not in any hurry. But I realize in hindsight they were probably just going the speed limit, or close to it, and I wasn’t used to that.

However, the population of Victoria has boomed in the last couple of decades, as has the amount of traffic that goes along with it. Now we might as well be driving in Vancouver.

The introduction of bike lanes changed the dynamic even more. These days, we have signal lights for pedestrians, signals for cars and for bikes. It takes a little practice to know which one you need to be watching.

Am I in my car, on my bike, or walking? Give me a minute…

The street we live on, which was very quiet when we first moved here, now has heavy traffic every day, especially during rush hour. One of our neighbours actually complained to the city about it.

They put in “traffic calming” measures at one point. That term makes me laugh…you see a lot more enraged drivers when they have to slow down or stop for oncoming traffic because of a boulevard jutting out. Traffic calming my foot.

Now don’t get me wrong. As a pedestrian, I encounter many nice, polite drivers who give me the right of way, and I always smile and wave thank you. But all it takes is one miserable person behind the wheel to ruin my day. Or I’ve ruined his, I suppose.

I want to suggest that these speeders are all young, impatient males, but I’m often surprised to see how many of them are women. And sometimes even “older” women. Everyone’s in such a hurry.

Which brings me to the recent reduction in speed limits in Victoria and Saanich. As a driver, I really have to work at keeping my speed at or just above the maximum, and I do try. But sometimes I’m on automatic (little pun there) and forget how fast I’m going.

When I am keeping to the speed limit, it’s almost a guarantee that I will eventually encounter a tailgater hovering right up behind me. A couple of times I’ve pulled over just to let the idiot pass so I don’t have to worry about being rear ended.

But if I’m truthful, I’m probably guilty of tailgating others here and there too. You know. When I’m the “older” woman in a hurry.

I am generally in favour of the lower speed limits, even if a lot of people aren’t paying any attention to them. There are just too many traffic accidents these days, and pedestrians and cyclists getting hit and even killed. Enough of that!

We’ve all got to slow down. You move too fast. (That might give you “older” folks an earworm.)

IJ

Congratulations Grads! 50 Years Will Fly By

 

I recently attended my 50th grad reunion (do me a favour and don’t do the math) and started thinking about all of this year’s young graduates going on to the next chapter of their lives. (You did the math, didn’t you…)

The reunion had a great turn out, with over 80 of us milling about trying to remember who the heck everyone else was. It’s funny how a face can change so much, but still hold some small, familiar quality. Thank goodness for name tags.

Speaking of which, I only wrote my first name on my name tag until someone pointed out that it wasn’t good enough. Duh. Old people need BOTH names to be able to remember. One of the organizers gave me another name tag with my full name. Only she spelled it “Jacksun”. Did someone miss English class?

We spent our time moving from one person to another, looking at each other and then down at our name tags, often gasping in delight at someone we suddenly recognized. It was great fun. We asked about each other’s lives, laughed at our ancient antics and cried for those we missed.

The conversation catch up included families, careers, moves from here to there. Retirement. Aches and pains. Some people talked too much, others not enough, just like in high school. I could see a lot of us moving into our familiar cliques. The sports people, the drama people. The nerds.

A very small group of our grads already had mobility or health issues, but I have to say we all looked pretty darn good for all that we’ve endured. And in 50 years, many of us have endured a lot.

I have to admit, I’ve attended every single grad reunion, but this was by far the most impressive. Not just because of the numbers, but because of the way we all understood the value of one another and appreciated each other in a way we haven’t before.

So what advice can I give all of you fresh-faced 2025 graduates holding your diplomas and wearing your graduation hats?

Well, first of all, your hat is called a mortarboard. I just learned that. So that’s lesson number one: you never stop learning! That’s why they call it “the school of life.”

Secondly, don’t lose touch with your friends. You’ll think to yourself that they’ll always be there. But stuff happens. Trust me.

And last but not least, one of the most important things in life is E.I. No, not employment insurance, although that might come in handy once or twice in your working life.

No, I’m talking about Emotional Intelligence. If you’re not quite sure what that is, emotional intelligence means understanding who you are, your emotions, and why you feel and act certain ways. Understanding yourself, and why you are who you are, may be the greatest lesson of all. There are books about it. If there’s a college or university or even a night school course including Emotional Intelligence as a subject, take it.

E.I. will carry you through the toughest times in your life. It will foster the good things in you: kindness, awareness, love and patience. Trust me on that one, too.

So to the Grads of ’25 from the Grad of ’75: You are brilliant. You’re going to do wonderful things and make this world a better place, I just know it.

Congratulations! Now don’t party TOO hard…

IJ

Put The Ballot In The Box, Eh?

 

I was in my early 20’s when someone I worked with convinced me to volunteer for a provincial party in an upcoming election. I had no idea what that really meant, but it sounded simple enough. Answer some phones, knock on a few doors.

So I went for it. A little bit of training as to how to approach people and what to say, and I was on my way.

I liked working in the campaign office, it was simple enough. The knocking on doors part was, well, a little more of an eye opener.

A lot of people weren’t home or didn’t answer, so I just pushed a leaflet through the mail slot. Easy. And of the ones who did answer the door, most were polite and at least took my leaflet.

But then there were the ones who had to, let’s just say “share” their ideas about the election and the candidates. There were a few who called me nasty names. And there were those who basically just slammed the door in my face. Yep, sometimes it’s rough out there for volunteers.

As I was growing up, whenever my my extended family got together for some occasion, the adult’s conversations would almost always centre around politics and current events. I can still hear the voices of my uncles rising and interjecting, not so much in anger, but maybe in small disagreement and definitely with passion.

One of my uncles ended up being an Associate Professor of Political Science at UBC, so it certainly ran in our blood.

That influence always encouraged me to vote, starting with the first election I was old enough to vote in. In my family there was nothing more important than filling out that ballot and stuffing it in the box. Even if you weren’t particularly inspired to do so, you just did it.

It almost feels like an understatement to say that this federal election has felt like no other in my lifetime. In our lifetimes. A couple of people I know have been volunteering for the first time ever. Here’s a toast to all of you election volunteers, by the way. You’re the best.

The advanced polls actually had line ups where I voted last Friday. I’ve never, ever seen that. There was a higher turnout for advanced voting than has ever been recorded in our country. That’s saying a lot.

Because of all of the unpredictable moves and threats from our neighbour to the south, suddenly Canada is united in a way that we’ve never experienced before. I see lots of people checking the labels in the grocery stores for Canadian products. Or Mexican or Italian. Anything but you-know-who.

“Elbows Up” t-shirts and “Proudly Made In Canada” signs are all over the place. The Canadian flag is flying everywhere while the American wine section in my local liquor store is proudly empty.

I’ve always felt the good fortune of being Canadian. Sure, we have our faults (sorry), and we don’t always agree. But that’s the whole point of being a democracy! We’re ALLOWED to disagree!

And, most importantly, we’re allowed to vote. Just imagine if we couldn’t do that.

There are a lot of other countries in the world rooting for us, supporting us, flying our flag. So on April 28th, as Canadians, all we have to do is one simple little thing: if you haven’t already done so, go and vote. Hop on this momentum and take it to the polls.

Because now, more than ever, it means everything.

Let’s put the ballot in the box, eh?

IJ

5 Years Post-COVID – What Have We Learned?

 

I don’t know about you, but anytime something bad has happened in my life — well, the good things too, but especially the bad things — I try to figure out if there’s something I can learn from it.

I suppose it’s in our DNA to make an attempt learn from the bad stuff so we don’t do THAT again.

Mistakes I make are one thing, but the things that happen TO me, I try to understand them and then let them go. I even succeed! Occasionally.

It’s hard to believe that we’ve recently passed the 5 year mark since the W.H.O. declared COVID a global pandemic. In some ways it feels like a very long time ago. And going through an event as major and earth shattering as a pandemic has taught us all something.

Okay, some of us anyway.

There was a lot of good that came out of the bad. To begin with, it was amazing how scientists came up with a vaccine for COVID. And even more amazing how quickly that vaccine was distributed to all of us so we could stop the spread.

Of course, it didn’t get to everyone soon enough and some paid the ultimate price. I, myself, knew of a couple of people who died from COVID.

The rest of us figured out how to adjust to a very different world. It wasn’t easy and it was definitely scary sometimes, but we did what we had to. Well, most of us.

“Social distancing” became the phrase of the day. Wearing masks and standing far enough apart in public, or learning to use technology to meet online instead of doing so in person, became the thing. People started working from home, and some continue to do so to this day.

My husband had to go through a rigmorale to get his work computer hooked up in his home office. But once he did, he could more or less continue his work with just a few minor inconveniences.

I had to stop teaching guitar in person for a couple of months. I tried to teach online, but it was a lot more awkward, so I ended up taking a break instead. I was lucky that I could get away with that. And CERB helped.

A lot of people and businesses struggled, of course, and some have never fully recovered. We still see buildings and offices standing empty, even 5 years later.

Kids suffered a lot with having to get their school lessons at home and not being able to see their friends, or play at the park. For a child, those are BIG things.

And people in care facilities or confined to hospital suffered equally as much.

But we adjusted. We found ways to stay in touch without the touching part. We celebrated health care workers, really appreciating them for the first time. We put hearts in our windows and made a racket with our pots and pans every night when their shifts changed.

We stocked up on toilet paper. Yeah, that was kind of weird.

We learned the value of masks and disinfectant and washing your hands.

Oh, about the masks. Some people still haven’t figured out that wearing it under your nose doesn’t work. IT DOESN’T WORK.

Sorry, got off track there.

We came to value our families and our friendships so much more. Sitting together for a meal with an old friend. Going to a movie or a hockey game with the kids. So many things that we took for granted before.

And somehow we made it through. Especially when we found toilet paper.

These days we hardly ever see the word COVID in the news. Oh, it’s still around and probably always will be in some form or another. And there are some who are struggling with long COVID and who have had to adjust to a new physical norm. For them, COVID goes on and on.

Some stores or offices still have those old social distancing stickers, faded and worn, but a small reminder of our experience.

People wear masks more readily now than before the pandemic and I don’t blame them. We’ve become a lot more conscious of how easily disease and bacteria can spread. Been there, done that, don’t want to do it again.

In the end, an experience such as surviving a pandemic teaches us that we can overcome just about anything that threatens us. Anything. And ANYONE.

Yeah, you know who I’m talking about.

Now THERE’S someone who needs to be taught a lesson or two…

IJ

He Could Be Me – A Reflection On Homelessness

 

There were only two of us in the liquor store, an older fellow who was taking his time choosing his beer, and me. I was running around, distracted as usual, grabbing what I needed for the weekend.

By the time I got to the checkout, the older guy had beat me to it.

I didn’t pay much attention at first, and then I realized he was trying to buy one can of beer, looking for change in his pocket to pay for it. It was a Faxe, a Danish beer, and I had grabbed one of those for myself too. It made me smile.

Then I noticed he was was counting out his change coin by coin, but couldn’t quite come up with enough. The lady at the checkout and I looked at each other. He was short about 25 cents. He slowly dug into one pocket again, and then another.

I could see his clothes were a bit worn and his fingers a little dirty. He might have been in his 70s or older. It was hard to tell.

I ventured to guess that this fellow was probably living on the street, or close to it, like so many people these days. On my daily walk in Oaklands, I pass a park where there are a number of tents set up around the tennis court. People in tents and other people playing pickleball. Two groups living in stark contrast.

Sometimes a tent or two comes down, only to be replaced by others. When I count them, there are usually 6 to 8 tents stuffed full of, and surrounded by everything the occupier owns.

Every now and then the police and city workers come in and surround the area with yellow tape, asking people to pack everything up and go. There’s always a lot of garbage left behind, so there’s usually a garbage truck to deal with that too.

By the next day, the tents are back again.

It’s easy to think I’m a world away from all of that because I have a place to live and don’t have to worry too much about money. Although living on a pension is an eye opener.

But a number of months ago, a member of my family had to move in with us due to a series of unfortunate events. As we adjusted to another person in the house, inflation got worse and worse and the cost of living went through the roof.

It’s not only happening in my little family. According to statistics, in the last couple of years about 60% of Baby Boomers and Generation Jones’s are having to support children or family members in one way or another because of the high cost of living. I never once imagined this for my retirement years.

What on earth happened? I’m sure there are a gazillion reasons and, as usual, it’s very complicated. But it isn’t entirely new.

My Dad wrote in his memoirs about going through the “dirty 30’s” and his family having to live on what was then called relief. Another name for welfare. My grandfather had to wake his family up in the middle of the night once so they could sneak out of the place they were living. He didn’t have enough money to pay the rent.

And many years ago when I lived in downtown Vancouver, I’d walk down Robson Street on my way to work and see a number of people sleeping under the covered doorways of the stores along my route.

In the library where I worked, a few street people would come in when we’d open the doors in the morning so they could sit inside and warm up a little. Especially in the winter, or when it rained. There were no warming centres back then.

Poverty and homelessness has always been a problem to one degree or another, but now it seems even more so. I look out my upstairs window towards downtown Victoria where I see more and more new high rises popping up. But who can afford them?

Nobody I know.

I glanced at the liquor store clerk again. “I’ll pay for it.” I said quietly to her, reaching for my wallet.

“Oh, isn’t that nice? Sir, this lady has offered to pay for your beer!”

I smiled at him and picked up my Faxe to show him. “We have the same taste!”

He looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed, and whispered a “Thank you.”

We finished the transaction, and he left with his beer. I moved closer to the counter. “I would have gone to the back room to get him the change he needed,” the clerk said. “We have some we put aside for people who are a little short of cash.”

I nodded, understanding. “Oddly enough, I think I felt better about paying for his beer than he did,” I said.

We are, many of us, one depression, one recession, and maybe even only one paycheque away from living on the streets. I turned and watched him walking carefully through the parking lot.

He could be me.

IJ

The Christmas Candle – a tribute to our Christmas traditions

 

I’m pretty sure I was in Grade 1 or 2 that day my mother told me we were going to invite some of my friends over to bake gingerbread cookies for Christmas.

She’d found a recipe somewhere and thought it would be fun for us all to do some Christmas baking together. I was an only child, so the neighbourhood kids were my surrogate brothers and sisters as I was growing up. We did everything together.

We picked a day and my mother started the process of making the gingerbread dough. I remember being in the kitchen with my friends, giggling as we rolled out the dough and cut the cookies.

The really fun part was decorating them with silver balls for eyes and red and green crystals. And icing. Lots of icing. We used knives to spread it all around and toothpicks to tweak it.

I’m pretty sure we ate half of the cookies as we were decorating. We definitely licked a lot of icing.

Ever since that time, gingerbread has been a part of my Christmas, whether it’s cookies or gingerbread houses. Oh, I’ve tried other store-bought gingerbread, but nothing compares to the home made stuff. You know?

My mother was an artsy-craftsy type, so she was always creating something. One day she discovered a way to make a big square candle using a 1 liter milk container as a form, so she made a Christmas candle.

All too soon, when I wasn’t quite 15 years old, my mother died of cancer. Suddenly all of the things that she’d made with her own hands became really important to me.

I don’t know how, but I managed to keep that candle with me when I moved away from home at the age of 18. And through a half a dozen moves I made over the next few years, I hung on to it. The truth is that I’m still surprised that I managed not to lose it or forget it somewhere.

When my two daughters were little, we began the tradition of making gingerbread too. And as a way of remembering my mother and my first gingerbread baking session, I pulled out the old candle and lit it.

From then on, we lit that candle every year and put it on the table beside us as we listened to Christmas music and made our gingerbread cookies.

Eventually I realized that the candle was going to burn down completely if we kept burning it (duh), and we didn’t want that to happen! So I started putting a tea candle inside it and lit that instead. Which explains the picture you see here.

No, the candle doesn’t look like much anymore. It’s more than 50 years old! But it really means everything to my daughters and to me. Even though my girls never had the opportunity to meet their grandmother Fanny, it’s a way of having her with us every year as we do our baking. Just a simple little tradition.

There are all kinds of stories out there from people recounting their Christmas traditions, many of them quirky, funny, and almost always sentimental in some way.

Even when you’re going through the worst of times, if you can have that one little thing you do, it brings back the cozy warmth of a Christmas memory. There’s nothing like it.

So Merry Christmas. And may the memories of your Christmas traditions give you great joy and comfort this year.

IJ