Will Unwound

You’re at the Readers Advisory Desk and in walks Tiger Woods. He’s in rehab, has some downtime, and wants some books that will help him re-build his life and his image.  What do you recommend?  The world’s greatest athlete is at your desk.  Don’t get nervous, and for goodness sakes don’t choke.  He’s just another patron. Please leave a comment at the end of this post for suggestions that you would give to our new patron, Tiger Woods.

As Tiger’s readers’ advisor, the first thing I would do would be to congratulate him for hanging out at the library.  Nothing says I am serious about changing my life more than turning to a readers’ advisory librarian for help. Next, I would advise him that if he is really intent upon restoring his All-American image, he should  drop the nickname “Tiger.”  This is not a good name for someone trying to overcome a sex addiction issue.  Most people don’t know that Tiger’s real name is Eldrick Tont Woods.  That’s the perfect antidote to the overly virile “Tiger.”  I would tell him, “It’s time to grow up, Eldrick, and here are 5 books to help you.

1. My Life In and Out of the Rough by John Daly – This is a golfer with far worse personal issues than you, Tiger…I mean Eldrick.  Daly’s life is a moving train wreck.  It just seems to get worse and worse.  Let see, there are the addiction issues: compulsive eating, gambling, smoking, and drinking.  The four marriages and divorces.  The arrest record.  The passing out drunk at Hooters.  The shearing off of the roof of a 50 foot luxury trailer by trying to drive through a low clearance tunnel.  Need any more details?  The point is Daly has far worse problems than you, Eldrick, and he has not quit.  He keeps playing the tour and people love him for it.  If Daly can do it, Eldrick so can you.
2. A  Golfer’s Life by Arnold Palmer – Arnie is the absolute gold standard for all athletes, Eldrick.  You need to model your life after him.  He is a kind and generous man to his fans.  He never gets into trouble.  He basically founded the modern professional golf tour with his charm and charisma. What is Arnie’s secret?  At heart, he loves people, even the little people.  Eldrick, you need to start loving the little people and stop being so high and mighty.
3. Siddhartha by Herman Hesse – Eldrick, in your apology to the public, you mentioned that you had strayed from the basic tenets of Buddhism, those basic principles that your mother taught you at a young age.  It’s interesting that your father taught you golf and your mother taught you life.  Get a clue…spend more time with Mom.  I’m sure that she would approve of this book.  It is fascinating to me that the life of Siddhartha mirrors your own life so closely.  As a child, Siddhartha was a spiritual prodigy ; you were an athletic  prodigy.  Siddhartha strayed from his values and fell into a life of debauchery and dissolution; you strayed from your values and fell into a life of debauchery and dissolution.  I want you to read this book to find out how Siddhartha got back on the true path of the Buddha.  You can do the same.  Of the 5 books I’m recommending, Eldrick, this one is the most important.  It’s not a long or difficult book.  You can read it in two hours.
4. Mother Goose – No, Eldrick, this is not a joke.  You need to spend a whole lot of quality time with your two little children.  They are at prime Mother Goose ages.  They will love the rhyme, rhythm, and repetitions of these time honored poems.  Nothing brings parents and children closer together than books.
5. Sacred Hoops by Phil Jackson – This is a great sports mojo book by the legendary basketball coach, Phil Jackson.  Like you, Eldrick,  he is a Buddhist.  His nickname is the Zen master.  His insights into the spiritual side of sports will be very instructive to you.  Talk to your good friend, Kobe Bryant.  He got himself into mucho trouble a few years ago and Phil helped him learn and grow from the experience.  Phil’s big on evolving, Eldrick, and you need to evolve.

Now…can I have your autograph?  And please sign it “Tiger.”  You can change to “Eldrick” tomorrow. See you in two weeks.

My mother is a dear woman.  I hit the powerball jackpot when I got her in the cosmic lottery.  You can see her on my photos page to the right.  You can also see pictures of the farm where she grew up in Jordan, New York.

I love getting handwritten letters from Mom.  Oh, she’s quite handy around a computer, but she still understands what a gift it is for me to receive regular handwritten letters from her.  Her writing style is crisp and newsy and her letters are always accompanied by obituaries from the local paper. 

The obituaries surprise me because my hometown of Pitman, NJ is a living time capsule.  Every time I visit Pitman it looks exactly the same as it did 50 years ago…cute, pristine, and friendly.  Are people dying there?   You could have fooled me.  I always thought that Pitman was New Jersey’s version of Brigadoon.

One of the obituaries was about the death of my old metal shop teacher from 1964.  In those days, boys were required to take wood and metal shop classes and girls were required to take home economics.  I was very sorry my mother sent me this obituary because the mention of this man’s name conjured up a very terrible, no good, awful memory. 

 In the obituary it said this man was a devoted Christian.  Maybe he had a conversion, because he wasn’t very Christian to me.  What happened is that I cut some pieces of sheet metal incorrectly and he went absolutely nuclear on me.  He gave me the worst tongue lashing I have ever received.  It went on for about 15 minutes in front of all my classmates. I was on the football team and it was so bad that it made me cry.  To even talk about this now 45 years later makes me cringe with embarrassment. A football player crying?  That was a disgraceful thing in the age before the advent of the new sensitive and vulnerable  male of the modern era.

That ugly little scene is the main reason I believe that mistakes should be considered learning experiences (see Will Unwound #33) and not grounds for sending someone to the firing squad.   It’s not like I left a welding torch on and burned down the high school. What did I learn?  Three things: 1) I had no mechanical ability, 2) I should avoid this man at all costs, and 3) If you really want someone to learn from their mistakes, compassion and understanding work far  better than anger and intimidation.

What was my worst library mistake?  Two words: book drop.  Several decades ago I directed a large public library building project.  As with any building project , I did an extensive user survey to see what the patrons wanted.  Believe it or not, their number one wish was a drive up book drop.  They didn’t want to get out of their cars to return their library books.  I also did an extensive staff survey to see what the employees wanted.  Believe it or not, their number one wish was a book drop in which the books were deposited directly into the circulation work room. They didn’t want to have to leave the building to retrieve books.

My building project, therefore, morphed from a library into a book drop project with a library attached to it.  I spent 80% of my time on the design of that book drop. When the building opened, however, it became the most controversial part of the project.  I had designed the drop 12 inches too high.  People couldn’t reach it from their cars.  What a fiasco.  The newspaper even did a big expose of it. Every day was an exercise in humiliation for me because I had to walk past the book drop to get into the library.  After 6 or 7 years, however, I noticed something interesting.  More and more drivers were able to reach the book drop without getting out of their cars. Had people gotten taller?  No, but their vehicles had. They were now driving large SUV’s. 

So you see, it wasn’t a mistake after all. I was simply ahead of my time as the first librarian to peer into the future of book drop technology and see the emergence of the sports utility vehicle.

You can read my latest “Manley Arts” column in the March 1st Booklist magazine by clicking on www.booklistonline.com. The name of the article is “Knowledge Workers.”  The link to the article is on the left side of the page under Features.  Enjoy.

Okay, I was wrong!  I admit it!  Two librarians, who sent me e-mails, proved me wrong .

Yesterday’s blog was about having fun at work.  I suggested that the most important factor in an employee’s morale is the demeanor of his or her immediate supervisor.  I defined the good supervisor as a mentor and coach who sees employee mistakes as learning opportunities.  A really good supervisor is the one who throws a party every month to celebrate these learning experiences.

But as my two critics pointed out to me there are mistakes and then there are MISTAKES. One of them pointed to some of the great mistakes of all time.  Did they throw a party for the captain of the Titanic? Did they throw a party for the captain of the Exxon Valdez, the oil tanker that spilled over a million gallons of oil on the coast of Alaska?  How about the guy who designed the Hindenburg?  Did he get a party? 

The other critic asked me some very personal questions.  Will, do you throw a party for a surgeon who botches your heart operation. Will, do you throw a party for the electrician who screws up a circuit and burns your house down?  Will, do you throw a party for the airplane pilot who makes a navigational error and takes you down into the icy waters of the North Sea? 

That last question brings to mind a very interesting experience I endured about 25 years ago.  I had just given a speech to the annual conference of the New England Library Association in a very small town in Vermont or New Hampshire and was scheduled to fly to Boston.  It was a very, very, very wet and blustery day.  I figured there was no way that the little 2 propeller puddle jumper I had a ticket for would be flying in such inclement conditions.  There were two other passengers, a businessman in his 60s, and a college student.  When they called us out to the runway to board the teeny tiny plane we were quite surprised.  The weather was just terrible.  I can’t emphasize that enough.  I’ll admit it…I was pretty scared. Actually I was petrified.

The businessman, a dignified gentleman named Harold, didn’t seem to be scared.  He seemed totally relieved that we were going to take off because he had a very important business meeting at a Boston bank that afternoon.  “My business succeeds or fails on the basis of this meeting,” he told me. “My whole life savings are wrapped up in this meeting.  Everything I own is at stake.  I cannot miss this meeting!” 

“Well, “ I said. “If we crash because of this awful weather, it won’t make any difference.”  Did I say I was very frightened?

As we approached the teeny tiny plane there was a woman in an airlines uniform in front of the door to the aircraft.  Harold noticed her immediately and said, “That’s unusual to have a stewardess on a flight this small,” he said.

“Harold,” I replied, “I don’t think she’s a flight attendant.  She’s the pilot.”  This made me feel a whole lot better.  My experience in life is that when it comes to precision jobs, women are more conscientious, careful, and meticulous than men.  For instance, the best doctors, lawyers, and dentists I’ve had have all been women.  If this woman pilot felt it was safe to fly in this weather that was good enough for me.

Harold, on the other hand, turned into a complete nervous wreck.  “I can’t do this,” he said.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Get on a plane piloted by a woman especially on a day like this,” he replied. “I just can’t do it.”  But then his inner businessman kept telling him that he had to get on the plane to get to his crucial bank meeting.  In the end, I had to basically push Harold up the steps and into the plane even though he was pretty close to a nervous breakdown.

It was a one hour flight.  How many times can a 60 year old man throw up in one hour?  The answer, I can tell you, is 27.  Harold filled up 7 barf bags.

How did his meeting turn out?  I don’t know, but the last thing he said to me was, “Even if my business goes belly up, it doesn’t really matter.  I’m still alive.”

Life is all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?

Fun…what is it really and should employers spend money to make work fun?  We’ve all read about edgy,  high tech companies in California with basketball courts in the parking lot, hot tubs in the staff lounge,  and free frozen yogurt in the lunch room.  Are they creating fun or are they making a statement – “Come work for us because we’re cool.”  Personally, I’m skeptical for 3 reasons: a)you can’t manufacture fun,  b) if I saw someone playing basketball while I was working I’d feel resentful, and 3) I’d rather have them put the money into my paycheck.

If high profile play amenities are indeed a cosmetic front for creating virtual rather than real fun, what does transform a work place from a sweat shop into a fun factory?  Some people look to the CEO as the key.  Their theory is that if your CEO is a well integrated, open, and empathetic person with a visible sense of humor, your workplace environment  will reflect that personality. Herb Kelleher has certainly pulled that off at Southwest Airlines.

The problem with that theory, however, is that it doesn’t always work.  I’ve worked for some really good top dogs, and suffered under some really dysfunctional immediate supervisors. It doesn’t matter if Steve Martin is your library director, if your immediate supervisor is Bertha the Battleaxe.  A bad immediate supervisor can ruin your whole life.  What’s the difference between a good supervisor and a bad one? Simple.  When you make a mistake the bad supervisor gives you a scowl and a written reprimand; a good supervisor gives you a sympathetic smile and says “Good learning experience…what did you learn?”  It’s that simple.  One is a boss; the other is a coach and mentor.  I once had a supervisor who every month would have a little party to celebrate our “learning experiences.”  That library was a fun house.

But in the final analysis does it make a difference?  Do happy workers make better, more efficient, more accurate, and more productive workers?  That question has always bugged me because it’s hard to do quantitative research on it.

Yesterday, however, I got all the quantitative research I needed to answer the question affirmatively.  I was playing in a foursome on a golf course embedded in a residential neighborhood where single family houses line  all 18 fairways.  Chuck, the lead dog in the foursome,  is a retired golf pro.  With age, he’s lost some yardage off his drives but the rest of his game is in tip top shape.  I don’t like playing with Chuck because he’s so intense.  With him the game of golf becomes a job.  The only reason I play with him is that he gives me free tips (“you’re dipping your shoulder; you’re bending your left arm; you’re not pronating your wrists, etc.).  You pay a price for those free tips, however,  because Chuck takes all the fun out of the game.  It becomes an exercise in mechanics and stress endurance. Chuck critiques your every swing, and he’s not diplomatic about it.

Yesterday, Chuck was out of sorts.  He seemed to be pressing on his drives to regain his lost yardage.  The carnage began on the very first tee.  Chuck hit a wicked slice that went right through someone’s family room patio doors.  Ouch.  From the second tee he bounced a ball off a roof and onto someone’s SUV. Crash.   Off the third tee he plunked a big, black Labrador retriever.  Growl. You get the picture.

For 18 holes Chuck did considerable property damage.  Fortunately the only living things he hit were dogs and ducks.  Much of the property damage occurred to his own golf clubs which he either slammed into a tree or tossed into a water hazard.  I think Chuck ended up with only 7 out of his original 14 clubs.  The madder Chuck got the worse he played.  He got so embarrassed by his play that he simply tore up his scorecard on the 14^th green.  Then he let loose with a stream of profanity, the likes of which I had never heard before.  In one simple declarative sentence he used the f word, the s word, the c word, the d word, the gd word, the a word, the ah word, the mf word, the sob word, the p word, the b word, and the other b word.  It was such a flamboyant stringing together of profanities that it was really funny.

Funny…that’s the word to describe the whole afternoon.  The other 3 of us in the foursome could not stop smirking and giggling.  We couldn’t really laugh out loud because we knew that Chuck would wrap a nine iron around our throats.  Check that.  He threw the 9 iron into the lake.  It would have been the 7 iron.

While Chuck had his worst score ever, we had our best scores.  That’s all the quantitative data you need.  Happy people are productive people.  Case closed.

You can read my March column in American Libraries magazine by clicking on http://www.americanlibrariesmagazine.org/columns.  The article is entitled “I Blog, Therefore I Matter.” Enjoy.

Once when I was working the reference desk, student  asked me why so many Civil War battles were fought in national parks.  He wanted information on the subject because he had decided to write a research paper about it for his US History class. He felt that it was very unfortunate that the army had been allowed to trespass on these national parks because in his words, “They are environmental treasures that should always be kept clean and safe. Plus, cannon shots might start forest fires.”

At first I was quite taken aback by the lunacy of this question but then I was reassured.  Patrons like this keep us in business.  Are you worried about the future of libraries?  I’m not as long as the education system keeps turning out students like this.

I’m 60.  I’m retired.  My father lived to be 82.  None of us knows when we will shuffle off this mortal coil, but when you turn 60, time management becomes a big issue.  Who was it who said that after you retire there is only one big event left in life…your death?  That’s not really true because there are many big events after retirement.  For instance, there’s the day your first grandchild is born, the day your first great grandchild is born, and the day that you finally finish War and Peace. Then, I guess it’s okay to die.

Back in 1970, I made a decision to become a librarian.  Why that choice?  I loved reading books and I loved being around people.  I saw librarianship as the one career choice that would give me the opportunity to bring books and people together.  I’ve never regretted that decision.  What I particularly liked about being a librarian was when people would ask me to recommend a good book to read.  In the old days this was called the “readers advisory” function. 

Now I’m asking all you librarians (or non-librarians who love to read) to put on your readers advisory hats.  In retirement I’ve been pretty good at time management.  I don’t have television service, don’t watch movies (well that’s not quite true …I am 42^nd on the reserve list at the local library for Julia and Julie), and pretty much limit my computer time to library blogs (yes, library blogs!).  That leaves a lot of time for reading books, and I find myself reading more than ever.

But I have a terrible fear.  I’m afraid that I will die without reading some book that a) would have been immensely enjoyable  b) would have stretched my mind or soul in some important new way, or c) would have made me a better person. 

So here’s the challenge: what one book (okay I’ll allow two but no more than three titles) should I read before I croak?   Check my “Will’s Favorite Books” list to the right to see what I have already read.  Don’t be afraid to recommend something obvious.  I find that when you re-read a good book after a period of years, it actually becomes a new book again.  Also, if you’re going to recommend the Bible, the Koran, or the Rig Veda, etc. (which are all great choices), please specify which books, suras, or hymns you most recommend.

Please leave your comments on this post. Thanks.  I’ll be “eternally” grateful for your advice.

Wasn’t it the fourth grade when we were forced to read Carl Sandburg’s deathless poem about  fog?  You remember it:  “The fog comes in on little cat feet.  It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.” 

Actually, the poem is not that bad.  You just have to be around little children to appreciate it.  My grandchildren love the fog.  They see it as a bit of magic …a white blanket that envelops them with a sense of wonder.  They can’t taste it or touch it, but they can see it and sense it all around them.  And then just like that it dissipates and disappears without even saying goodbye. Come to think about it, the fog is a lot like that crazy big gray cat that lives somewhere down the street from Connor and Sophia.  In the morning mist he climbs up on their front porch and waits for them to appear in the window.  Then suddenly he is gone.  Is he real?  I think so.  I’ve seen him. .. I think.

Sandburg’s poem comes to mind a lot here in northern California.  Every morning when I get on my bicycle to make the strenuous one mile ride to the grandchildren, I disappear into the fog.  You pedal up one steep hill with vineyards on either side of the road, descend down into a little valley, and then huff and puff your way up a hill covered with olive trees. The fog typically settles into the little valley and doesn’t disappear until the sun ascends to a mid morning angle.  I’ve come to regard this little fog patch as a living presence like the squirrels, chipmunks, and mice that inhabit the area. Stealthily it creeps in, skulks around, hunkers down, and then slinks away.  Gliding down the hill into this fog is an act of faith.  What if there is another bike coming from the opposite direction?  I don’t really think about it because the sensation of floating through space is simply too much fun.

I’m intrigued with the fog because I spent the last three decades under the bright sunlight of central Arizona.  In the desert there was a harsh clarity to my life.  The alarm clock would ring and I would get up, go to work, come home, eat, and go to sleep.  You do this day after day for 3 decades and you become your routine.  It defines you.

But then you retire and the routine suddenly ends, and at first you’re lost in the fog.  It’s a bit disorienting not to have a clearly defined purpose.  But you learn to love the fog.  You glide through it playfully and end up at the front door of your grandchildren where little Sophia says, “Grandpa, I just went poo.  Need diaper changed.”  That clarifies things pretty well, doesn’t it?

Is “heartbreaking” the word I’m looking for or will “upsetting” suffice?  Let’s just use both. The budget cutting news for governmental entities is very, very heartbreaking and upsetting.  It’s very difficult for public servants to watch the services to which they have devoted their lives erode away with decreasing tax revenues and the inevitable budget cuts.  The Great Recession has taken a tragic toll on our nation’s quality of life.  There is not a state, town, village, or county that has not been impacted.

The heartbreaking part of the picture is when public servants begin to fight amongst themselves regarding who is more important.  Schools are a good example.  Can you really say that math and science teachers are more important than librarians, p.e. teachers, or art and music instructors?  Doesn’t it really depend upon the student, and aren’t, thank God, all students different in their aptitudes and passions?

I struggled with school from K to 4.  In 5^th grade I was blessed with an extraordinary teacher who changed my life.  But what got me through those early grades?  The school librarian and the phys ed teacher.  The library and the playground were the only parts of school that interested me.  Without the attention I received from a librarian who recognized my “inner bookworm,”  I would have had absolutely no interest in academics.  As a result, I worry about all those students who are motivated to go to school because of their art and music programs.  Take away  those “non essential” programs and you lose a lot of students.   

The same goes for municipalities.  You probably read the same quote that I did.  I forget the city but some public official made the statement that no police officers should be cut until every single librarian was cut first.  Law and order is basic in a democracy, yes, but how about learning?  What would the crime rate be without libraries and parks and recreation programs?  Can’t the pain be distributed  among all service groups ?  Aren’t they all “essential” to the well being of a community?

Last summer I got stopped by a police officer on my way to the library.  I had no idea why.  I was driving 20 mph in 25 mph zone, and  I had come to a full stop at the stop sign.  “Why aren’t you wearing your seat belt?” he asked gruffly.   I replied that I had a lot on my mind and I had just forgotten the seat belt.  I thanked him for bringing this to my attention thinking that he was giving me a first warning.  No, not quite.  He took out his ticket book and wrote me up all the while giving me a harsh lecture.  This took 20 minutes out of his life and my life and 50 bucks out of my pocket.  I thought briefly about saying something snarky like “Don’t you have more important things to do?” but I bit my tongue.

However I did say, “Are we done here because I’ve got something really important to do.  I was on the way to the library before I was rudely interrupted.”