Long-Borrowed Library Book Will Be Hard to Forget Now
By Michael E. Ruane
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, May 11, 2009
On March 16, 1978, with Jimmy Carter in the White House, Dick Cavett on late night TV and hi-fis on sale at Hecht's, Sarah McKee walked into the Arlington Central Library and borrowed a book.
She was 39, a single mother of three and had just become a lawyer. She lived in a three-bedroom apartment in Fairlington that already was filled with books. But she was a literary "omnivore," and on this day her eye fell on Alvin M. Josephy's "The Patriot Chiefs," about great Indian leaders.
It was due back April 5.
This month -- three decades, one career, five presidents, three relocations, seven grandchildren and thousands of books later -- McKee happened to open "The Patriot Chiefs," spotted the library card in the pocket and thought: "Drat."
And so May 5 -- 31 years and one month overdue -- it arrived back at Arlington Library with a note of apology and a check for $25.
"To my great embarrassment," the note said, "I recently opened this book and discovered it is yours -- not mine. My apologies for my tardiness."
A library spokesman, Peter Golkin, said it might be the longest overdue return in library memory.
As for a fine, he said, "It's always great to get the books back, as opposed to any kind of income from fines or replacement fees."
McKee, now 70 and retired in Amherst, Mass., said the problem was that after the passage of so much time, she thought the book was hers.
She said she has long been plagued by a poor memory, noting in a telephone interview that she once bought a book on how to have a perfect memory only to discover that she already owned the title.
As for the Arlington book, "I never would have schlepped it around all these years had I not thought it was mine," she said.
McKee, a lifelong bibliophile and once the owner of about 4,000 books, said she had moved with her children from Ohio to Virginia to take the D.C. bar exam and become a lawyer here. She said she had just passed the exam when she borrowed the book.
She said she practiced law with the Department of Labor and the Department of Energy. After her children were "grown and flown," she moved with her books to Woodley Park, then later back to Virginia. When she retired in 1999, she, her books and her antique carousel horse moved to Amherst, where she plays the Celtic harp professionally and is a trustee of a local library.
She said that last year she moved many of her books to her basement to have her floors worked on and was in the process of bringing the books up from the basement, dusting and reshelving them, when she made the discovery.
In the process, she opened the Josephy book, looked in the back, "and oh, my Lord, it wasn't mine," she recalled.
"Drat," she thought. "I have to send it back."
She did so, mailing it first class.
Asked about the book, she said she could not recall whether she read it, adding with a laugh:
"You know where you can borrow it."
Friday, May 08, 2009
By Ani Misirian
(May 8, 2009) -- I like, really, like, do not like, you know, the world like.
‘Cause, like, it’s like, so annoying, you know?
Like, every time I can’t think of like, what to say, the word like, just like, jumps out of my mouth.
Like, um, oh my God, this one time, in like English class, when I was like, trying to you know, explain my opinion, it was weird, ‘cause like, I couldn’t think of what to say, and like, the word “like” just kept jumping out of my mouth. And my teacher was like, “Ani, why don’t you repeat yourself?”And it got so annoying, ‘cause like, I don’t think anyone understood me, you know?
Like, I guess it’s no big deal, ‘cause like everyone uses “like” a lot nowadays. Like, I guess it doesn’t really bother anyone, ‘cause like they must be so used to it already, you know? Like, bro, totally, I don’t think it would be possible for anyone our age to like, say an entire sentence without throwing the word “like” in there.
And like, it’s no biggie, ‘cause it’s not like you can’t understand what I’m saying, you know? It’s not like you actually pay attention to all those “likes” and “ands” and “ums” and “bros.”
Well, I, like, have news for you. If our generation is so, um, inarticulate that we cannot manage to formulate a single sentence without utilizing the world “like” as our general silence filler, then, like, I think it would be best that we not talk at all. If, like, our vocabulary is so underdeveloped and insufficient, what’s the point of like, attending school, reading books, and analyzing literature? Like, I swear, in all honesty, hearing the word “like” used again and again in daily speech makes my head hurt. I like, stop paying attention to what the person is saying and start tallying the amount of times the word “like” escapes his/her mouth. ‘Cause it, um, makes the speaker look, um, unaccountable and unable to be taken seriously. Why speak when like the only word that will grab anyone’s attention is a four-letter compilation of letters that has lost its true Webster Dictionary definition?
Well, I dunno bro. I guess, like, we just have to wait until the day comes where like, people start like, expressing their opinions without utilizing pointless gap fillers, then we’ll, like, be able to fully understand each other, you know?
Friday, May 08, 2009
By Matt Anson
(May 8, 2009) -- “Okay dad, let’s make a bet.”
“Alright, about what?”
“Swine flu. Over/under three American deaths in the next month.”
“Are you serious? I’ll take that bet. Over, well over.”
Step right up folks, get your facemasks. It’s that time again; time for the sickness of choice to cause mass hysteria and fear! Bird flu is so 2005. It’s time for a more exotic illness to grab us by the loins and have us sprinting to the doctor at the first sign of a runny nose.
Why is it that we love the slim chance of the death of all humans and the end of the world and all other catastrophes? People complain about the news just being a variety show of a tragedy, but this is honestly what we want. Deep down tragedies and horrible situations excite us and sort of turn us on. Why else would we look back with something closer to nostalgia than fear when thinking about SARS and bird flu?
Ah, bird flu. The dreaded H5N1. I remember sitting in the car with my dad freshman year and having him explain to me about how if the bird flu goes bad it could be in the States the next few months, he’ll lose his job, cities will close down, etc. And I still remember being chastised for giving the ultimate look of skepticism.
We never learn from these diseases that just don’t quite live up to the pandemic that was billed to us. With each new illness, we decide to look back to the 1918 flu or even the Black Plague rather than to more recent diseases that were handled easily by modern medicine. With swine flu (AKA H1N1, but that’s not nearly as catchy) we can finally go back to the good ol’ days of living in fear. In fear of sick people, in fear of physical contact, in fear of public restrooms, in fear of pigs and best of all in fear of Mexico.
So squeeze out gallons of that hand sanitizer, go online and purchase a facemask, do whatever you need to do to feel safer. Just realize that you’re feeding in (again) to something that won’t amount to anything, and you won’t have learned anything (again) the next time the virus to end all viruses comes along.
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