Tinfoil + Raccoon

Nellie Wilson: Wisconsin's Own Rosie the Riveter

On May 3, Juniorina finished her second year of National History Day participation, reaching the state level both years. Each year, students work on projects in support of an annual theme. They can present historical research in papers, performances, websites, exhibits and documentaries. This year, La Crosse Public Library hosted over 500 middle school students who came to the library for research visits in support of their projects. We were pleased to see that eight students from our region were state finalists, some of who will advance to the national event. 

Juniorina, an 8th grader, wrote a heck of a paper, and missed nationals by one spot, placing with a 1st Honorable Mention.  I'm going to publish her work here, not (just) because she's my kid, but because she wrote about a woman, largely unknown outside of Milwaukee, who had a signficant impact on her community. Mrs. Wilson also passed away shortly after Juniorina started her research. I'm pleased to shine a light on Mrs. Wilson's life and work. 

Wisconsin's Own Rosie the Riveter: Nellie Wilson and Her Fight for Equality in the Workplace

by Claudia Elvidge, School of Technology and the Arts II, Grade 8

“Nellie Wilson had a dream, too.  Wilson attended the 1963 March on Washington.  She had a dream that she could support her two young girls. When Wilson finally landed a job worth working at, she hoped that joining the union would make a difference. Then she found herself making a difference in the union - and in the lives of countless other workers.”¹  

      That was a quote from the obituary of Nellie Wilson who passed away January 23, 2008, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin at the age of 91, after a lifetime of fighting for the rights of women and people of color in the workplace.  Nellie Wilson was one of the millions of women who went to work in factories during World War II at a time when, in the public eye, women were supposed to stay home or work in less demanding jobs.  Even more remarkable was that she was an African American woman.

Nice Catch, Dr. Google!

A couple weeks ago, I went in for my not-quite annual wellness exam. I told my doc I was feeling pretty good, aside from the usual intermittent stuff--migraines, fatigue, etc. I went in to the appointment with a list of things to talk about, and we finally got to the last item: my thumbnails.  I'm not sure when I first noticed it, but both of my thumbnails have been bumpy for awhile. I told her that it wasn't anything I was particularly worried about, but wondered what was happening in my body to make both thumbnails bumpy.  She noted that I pick at my cuticles and said that that can lead to infection and irregular nail growth. I said that I'd been picking at my cuticles for several decades and had never seen bilateral weirdness with my nails.

At that point she turned to her computer and said, "As a patient, I don't know how you feel about Google, but let's see if we can find anything."  I laughed and said, "Well, as a librarian, it's my starting point for a lot of research, so let's give it a go."  I think her initial search was something like ridges thumbnails which pretty quickly brought up the term "washboard thumbnails," also known as "transverse ridging of the thumbnails."  I gave her some search tips, like taking away quotations marks, and pretty soon, we kept seeing results that had the words thyroid and hypothyroid in them.  Ah ha! I have a diagnosis of chronic fatigue/fibrymyalgia, so wouldn't ever think to overly complain about brain fog, fatigue, headache, etc, since it's stuff that comes and goes. But, there's a huge amount of overlap between hypothroidism, chronic fatigue and perimenopause (another thing we've assumed was going on).  Given the addition of the bumpy thumbnails, the doc decided to test my thyroid levels.

Last week, while sitting in the hotel lobby at Computers in Libraries, wondering why I was feeling so absolutely crappy when I hadn't been up til 3 am doing karaoke, I got a call from my doctor's nurse. She was telling me all the stuff that came back okay, and I kept thinking, "something didn't come back okay or she wouldn't have called me to say that stuff was okay." Finally, she said that my thyroid test had indicated that I have clinical hypothryoidism and that the doctor wanted to start me on Synthroid.

Jeeze, that sucks, I thought. But after a few minutes, I was pretty happy about it because it explained so much. Admittedly, I am older than most of my CiL peers, and past my partying prime.  Excited as I was to be at CiL and as much as I was enjoying it, I felt really out of sorts. I really pushed myself to participate, socially, as much as I did, and was wiped out for much of the conference. It seemed out of proportion the other factors--age, amount of sleep, etc. I was also getting bummed out by my lack of motivation to be more professionally active, compared to my peer group.  Intellecually, I want to be in the game. I want to be writing, presenting, creating.  My friend Matt always asks me "what are you working on," when we haven't talked for awhile. For the past several months my response has been, "uh....nothing."  Inevitably, we talk about projects we could work on together, but  the conversations have never gone past that.   

Everything makes sense now, or at least I hope it does, as I'm feeling pretty relieved to know that there's a reason behind my lack of energy and engagement. There was a prescription for levoxothyrine waiting for me when I got home, and I fired up Doctors. Google and Ebscohost to learn what I could.  The downside is that it could take several months for me to start feeling better, depending on how long it takes for the medicine to get my thyroid levels back to normal. The upside is that I can stop beating up on myself for not doing more more more. I'm going to cut myself some slack, say "no" without feeling guilty, and give myself time to heal and feel better. And, yes, I already have a follow-up appt scheduled with my doctor, the real one, to supplement what I've learned about online. I'm most grateful for Dr. Google, though, as I'm not sure I would even know that I had a problem if it weren't for such immediate availability of information. 

Live What?: The Kids are Alright

The Raccoons, Jr. are now 13 and 16.  The Live Earth concerts are today.  (In general, I think the premise of the concerts is ridiculous. Honestly, what is this huge carbon footprint of entertainment going to do for global warming.  But, that's not what this is about.)   

From the ages of 10-29, I was a total music geek.  I had a subscription to Rolling Stone that spanned 20 years of my life.  I hung out in the one, tiny alternative used vinyl shop in Normal, IL.  I not only read, but memorized liner notes from the vinyl I owned and borrowed from the library.  In junior high, the prime hallway note-passing time, I passed my older friend, Lori Brooks a note that only included the lyrics of "Blues for Baby and Me" from Don't Shoot Me, I'm Only the Piano Player. I thought she would understand why those lyrics were so meaningful, but later, on the bus, she just looked at me and said, "Hartman, are you retarded or what?"  I'm just saying that it's good that tattoos were not a big deal until recently, or I probably would have had a body full of liner notes from Born to Run or Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy or More Fun in the New World (and let me now declare my love of Wikipedia for having fairly authoritative articles on all four of those titles).

Had something like Live Earth occurred during my teen years, I would have been all over it.  I could have told you about the line-up, the politics, the bands.  I was also a news junkie during those years.  Please note that my news came from the three networks, our local newspaper and radio, and Rolling Stone. Something like Live Earth would have made me a totally delirious know-it-all.  So, today, when I asked both of my girls if they had heard anything about Live Earth, they both gave me a blank look.  When I explained what it was, (accompanied by my editorializing), they both shrugged and gave me that, "yeah, so" look.

There are moments in a parent's life when you realize that your kids are not you.  I had one of those moments today and it made me wonder where I'd gone wrong. Sure, both my girls know about global warming.  Juniorina is probably a bit more civicly engaged than Juniorette. That's okay.  (My sister, 18 months younger than me, was much more interested in new hiding places for her pints of peach schnapps and figuring out ways of blackmailing me with her stolen knowledge of the contents of my journal, than she was in writing letters to our local paper about the ERA.  We're both successful and can sit in the same room for a few hours at a time.)   But, despite my disparaging remarks about Live Earth, I was hoping that one of my girls would squee  "Oh, yeah! I forgot...let's watch."   They didn't.

The funny thing, though?  I've been writing this while sitting in Juniorina's room, at her invitation, while we watched the new version of Father of the Bride.  Shortly after I started writing it, Juniorina asked me, "You know that Flogging Molly CD we have?"  I said that we didn't have a Flogging Molly CD, then remembering what I knew about FM, asked if she meant the Pogues. When she described the song she remembered, I verified that it was the Pogues.  I had heard about the FMs, but had never heard them.  Juniorina steered me to a YouTube video clip of Full Metal Alchemist, complete FM "Seven Deadly Sins" soundtrack.  No wonder she thought of the Pogues.  Over the next hour, she had me listen to Keltic Cowboys (Kiss My Irish Ass) and the Hazzards (Gay Boyfriend).  In the midst of this discussion, I told her about the original Father of the Bride, with Spencer Tracy and Elizabeth Taylor, which we can watch tonight, as a free Netflix download.  In fact, she keeps pestering me to finish up with this post so we can watch it.

My kids live in a much larger world than I did.  They have introduced me to so much that I never would have found on my own.  We share ideas and music and books much more than I ever did with my parents. (I do know that, at this point, I still rule when it comes to who has influenced who more.)  Their iPod playlists include Japanese pop, Rammstein, Broadway showtunes, Celine Dion, King Crimson, O, Brother soundtrack and the Who.  Even though I'd sort of like to be watching Live Earth, I'm happy to put it aside for hanging out with my 13 year-old and watching her pick of the night--the 1950 version of Father of the Bride. 

(PS--no, they would not get my reference to The Kids are Alright.  But, I've got a few years to learn 'em up.)

It's All About Meme, Meme, Meme: 80 things

Joshua Neff, that Goblin fellow, tagged me for the latest meme: Eighty Random Things about Me.  Strap yourselves in, kids, for this epic tell-all:

1. I like to make homemade valentines and feel crummy that I didn't make any this year.
2. Yesterday was my one-year anniversary in Wisconsin. Rock on!
3. I loathe polo shirts. I mean, if you want to wear one fine, but I'm pathological about having one on my person.
4. Favorite sports as a child: dodge ball and kick ball. Actually, those were my only sports as a child--the two things that did not make me cry in PE class.
5. I have rosacea and pray to the Goddess of Dermatology that I don't end up looking like WC Fields.
6. I have had an inordinate number of schizophrenic, bipolar and other mentally ill people in my life. I don't especially relate to normal or neurotypical.
7. I stopped watching serious films after being devastated by Sophie's Choice about 15 years ago. 
8. When I was in my early teens, I was pretty set on marrying Elton John. At present, only David Furnish and Mr. Raccoon stand in my way. Oh, and can anyone arrange a meeting with Reg?  We've not been properly introduced.
9. I miss the smell of curry-suffused saris.  There were lots of East Indian folks in Bloomington. And, boy, did they know the value of libraries.
10. Random celebrity birthdays that I remember: David Cassidy: April 12, Elton John: March 25; Salvador Dali: May 13; George Carlin, Howard K. Smith: May 12; Harry Truman: May 8. Ms. Mishler, my senior lit/drama teacher: April 17.
11. I spent a lot of time in hospitals as a kid. I was in at least three times, and my mom was in and out a lot.  As a result, I feel very at home in hospitals, and rather like them.
12. I love pork.
13. Ever since I was a kid, I've been pretty sure I could fly.  I just haven't figured it out yet.
14. I believe in magic (see above).  It's physically possible and someday people will figure out how to use the other 98% of their brain energy.
15. My favorite flowers are violets, lily of the valley and lilac which all bloom around my birthday.

In Small Twits Forgotten

Way to blog, I know.  Get mentioned in a trade journal cover story on "Mattering in the Blogosphere," then disappear from my own blog. Not that I haven't been blogging. I've just been microblogging over at Twitter.  I've resisted writing a rah-rah post on Twitter because: a) It's not for everyone; b) it's like living in a small town where you like things just the way they are, and dread the inevitable growth and growing pains that come from everyone wanting a piece of the good thing they've been reading about. I will, however, explain what it is about Twitter that has so grabbed my time and attention.

Twitter has gotten a fair amount of bashing for being "stupid," "useless," "inane," "voyeuristic," and "masturbatory."  The only one of those descriptors I'll agree with is "voyeuristic."  I've made no bones about being a life-long voyeur.  I'm a figurative peeping tom who appreciates having access to telling glimpses into others' lives.  If I'm ever in your house, I will probably reflexively open your refrigerator just to see what you have.  Not because I'm hungry, but because if I'm in your house, I know you well enough to want to know more about you. 

I have managed to make a career out of voyeurism.  Being a reference librarian is the ultimate in voyeurism.  Anyone who has worked a reference desk, who has served drinks, who has cut hair, knows what I'm talking about. Those held hostage to a public audience by virtue of their employ hear the most amazing, intimate, mundane and alarming things.  For me, it's possibly the best part of my work as a librarian. I'm not so interested in big questions, deep feelings, philosophizing, and theorizing.  I love working with "patch guy," a man who comes in to the library nearly every day to scour eBay for racing and automotive patches.  I love getting the back story that comes with a question as simple as "can you look up a phone number for me?"  On Twitter, I love reading about what people are eating, watching, listening to, what they're doing at work. I love being the recipient of so much detritus. If you question the value of such microvoyeurism, let me tell you about the only other job that's made me as happy as librarianship.

For a very short time in my 20s, I worked as an archaeological assistant, and was giving serious consideration to making it my career before I found myself a mother-to-be. (Morning sickness and digging for 8 hours in the sun don't mix any better than having a baby and a job that keeps you away from home a week or more at a time.)  When people hear that I worked as an archaeologist, they imagine all sorts of glamorous things--dinosaur bones (sorry--that's paleontology), gold breastplates, undiscovered hominid fossils.  They are considerably less impressed when I tell them that I worked on historical sites digging up 150 year old garbage.  During my short career, I wrote one bit of research for an archaeological study.  It was a report on buttons.  That's right. Buttons. You can tell a lot about a community by the buttons they leave behind.  Wood, milk glass, shell, stamped metal--they all tell a different story.  With a handful of buttons, you can surmise socioeconomic status, study reciprocity and proximity and even take a guess at community philosophy (probably not a lot of fancy buttons among a Quaker community). 

My favorite things about gardening  have nothing to do with gardening itself. I mostly garden for the digging and discovery.  I have jars full of old garbage--crockery shards, broken bottles, marbles, nails--stuff that I've unearthed while digging various gardens.  Last week, I found a dog burial. What was supposed to be a simple sod scraping and shovel-depth soil turning, became a two-foot dig.  I'd probably faint with joy if I ever got lucky enough to find an old privvy.  Who we are is not just what we find in museums, or in albums carefully curated by those who hope to show the shiny, unblemished side of a life or of a  family.  Who we are, who we really are, is found in garbage piles and literally mixed with our sh*t. My favorite archaeology book is In Small Things Forgotten: An Archaeology of Early American Life by James Deetz who demostrates that we only learn about the past by studying the mundane.  Since the early 1970s, archaeologist William Rathje has been looking at garbage to learn about practices and behavior that  tell more about a community than observing and interviewing community members.

Is Twitter garbage?  Yeah, maybe. Is it useful?  Yeah, maybe. Just give me a keyboard and a shovel and get out of my way.

Blizzard of Ought Seven: Snow Fort

  fort 2 
  Originally uploaded by rochelle, et. al..

We've just experienced the best snow storm ever--I'm guessing it will be close to 20" total.  Now I can cross  "build a five-foot tall snow fort" off my life's to-do list.  I went out to shovel, and realized what perfect packing snow it was, so I grabbed a pail and just started stacking blocks of snow.  Three or four hours later, I had a monster fort, with a little help from Juniorina.  About 3/4 into it, I decided it would be the new SL Library--Snow Life Library, and I was composing a clever post in my head as I kept stacking, stacking, stacking.   But, it kept snowing, snowing, snowing, and  my body was aching like mad from all the shoveling and stacking, so I decided to be content with having created a massive, wholly non-functional snow edifice in my back yard.  If the weather cooperates, maybe I'll do something fun with it later this week.  If nothing else, it will be fun to watch it melt and collapse.

Silly snow fort aside, we totally enjoyed the weekend snow.  It was the sort of winter weather you'd expect Wisconsin to have and went a long way to sate my long-standing big-snow fantasies.   It was great to see all the neighbors out in the alley, wielding a variety of shovels, when the snow plow guy hired to scrape the alley, gave up and went home, saying he was tired of people being cranky with him for not being able to push several inches of heavy, wet snow.   Neighbor Bob finished off the job with his snow blower, and we've all been out several times to keep the sidewalks clean, per La Crosse ordinance.   

We've been a little disappointed with the winter up til now, but this weekend was just what we've been waiting for.

Refreshed and Ready for 2007

  Fireworks--New Years 2007 
  Originally uploaded by rochelle, et. al..

Three of the best things about our house in La Crosse are location, location, location.   When we first got here, one of the first things we heard about was the New Year's Eve fireworks from Granddad Bluff.  Because of some horrible tree blight about 30 years ago, there are few mature trees in La Crosse, and as a result, we have a great, unencumbered view of Granddad Bluff.  Juniorette and I were able to sit on our sun porch/family room) and watch a 30 minute fireworks display on New Year's Day night.  Juniorina, whose room is directly above the sun porch, watched from upstairs. 

Traditionally, there are two shows--a children's show at 6 pm on New Year's Eve and one at midnight.  Owing to warm temps and a full day of rain, the Skyrockers postponed the show til New Year's Day at 6 pm.  As I was sleepy from too much turducken, spiced nuts and wine on New Year's Eve, I was quite happy with the schedule change.

I had my first multi-day vacation in years from Dec. 20 to the end of the year.  I've traditionally taken a couple days here and there, but have generally not taken long vacations.  This year, I didn't get any vacation until Dec 1, and had to take it all by the end of the year.  I was more than ready.  It's also the first time I've truly stayed away from work.  I didn't check work email, I didn't call in to see how things were going, I didn't go near my Bloglines account, and I didn't log in to Tinfoil+Raccoon.   I'm pretty sure there were a couple days in which I didn't even write any email. It was a library-free, relatively off-line vacation, and I can't tell you how nice it was to stay away.

Not that I was a lay-about for two weeks.  It was still pretty jam-packed.

• I started on a kitchen painting project that I hope I can finish before next Christmas
• Made a trip to Bloomington to deliver the girls to their dad and to visit with my mom.  Also got to see Big Dad, who is just fabulous, even after a year that included a stroke, triple bypass surgery and colorectal surgery.  Timex has nothing on him.
• Made bunches of fudge and cookies
• Spent lots of time with friends and neighbors
• Celebrated Juniorina's 13th birthday
• The Mr. returned to public radio.  Although it's been 18 years since his last regular gig as a jazz announcer on public radio, he sounded really great on his inaugural gig as an occassional host for the Saturday afternoon jazz program on WLSU.

I've been giving a lot of thought to Tinfoil+Raccoon in the three weeks that I've stayed away.  I'll be doing a follow-up post about the direction of this blog and about my general thoughts on the state of the biblioblogosphere. 

Haircut for Locks of Love--14"!

  shorn tail 
  Originally uploaded by rochelle, et. al..

Last week, Juniorina announced that she wanted to cut her waist-length hair and donate it to Locks of Love, an organization that provides real-hair wigs to disadvantaged kids under the age of 18 who have lost their hair as a result of chemotherapy and other medical reasons.    I asked her about half a dozen times during the week if she was sure that she wanted to do this.  Every time I asked, she responded, without hesitation, "yes!"  So, today was the day that Juniorina gave up around 14" of her hair.   She was not thrilled about my documentation of the event, but knew that it was part of the deal. 

Why the sudden decision to lop her locks?  I'm not entirely sure. She's not one of those utterly giving, philanthropic types, so it wasn't a great sacrifice. "I'm tired of people touching my hair," was her short answer.  I completely understood.  Having really long hair is somewhat like being pregnant in that there are people who think it is okay to touch you without your permission.   I've had long hair a couple times in my life--at one point down to my butt--and have had complete strangers' hands on my hair.   Juniorina doesn't even like me to touch or brush her hair, so I imagine that it drives her nuts when others pet her.  Luckily, someone will benefit from her pique!

It's also really liberating to lose that much hair.  Juniorina was downright giddy after she got out of the chair, swinging her flippy 'do and getting used to not having a thick curtain of hair down her back.   

When we got home, Juniorette squealed over her sister's new look and immediately had to...touch it.  I told Juniorina to expect a lot of attention the first couple days, but after that, she'll be back to hair anonymity.

Al Knorr--Stop the War

  Al Knorr--Stop the War 
  Originally uploaded by rochelle, et. al..

One the very few things I missed about leaving my previous library were the patrons--the ones I grew to know as acquaintances and friends.  Yesterday I even got one from one of my favorites, Walt, a Shakespeare afficianado, who brought me up to speed on the remodeling project and complained that "his" bust of the bard would no longer be on display.   

My first few months at LPL were a bit isolating since I literally didn't know anyone, save for my new co-workers.   Graudally, I started to learn the names and personalities of folks they started to call me by name and ask how I liked La Crosse.  I can say that today, on my 6 month anniversary (I assume I'm off probation, right, Kelly?), I'm feeling at home here on the second floor. 

Al Knorr was someone I had read about even before I moved to La Crosse.  I found an article about him when I was searching for information about the community.  He's a well-known, long-time community activist whose recent passion, the Iraq War, was highlighted in a Chicago Tribune article early in 2006.  It didn't take me long to get to know Al as one of our treasured regular patrons.  As he was doing when the Tribune article came out, Al can still be seen on sidewalks and street corners all over town, regardless of the weather, holding his "Stop the War" sign.  I give him a honk of support whenever I see him, but earlier this week found him outside of Central High School where I was dropping off Juniorette.  I hopped out, shook his hand, chatted a bit and asked if I could take his photo.  So, here's Al, a community treasure and another reason I'm glad to be here.

Life Dump: Mid Oct. 06

Been caught up in life's rich pageant as of late, leaving me little time/spunk to keep up much here. 

• Was delighted to welcome Michael Golrick as a guest a couple weeks ago and am even more delighted to welcome him to Wisconsin. 
• Have become an accidental project manager for the library's website. I was pretty happy to know that I'd have a big say in its re-build, but never expected to be coordinating its extreme makeover. (Lesson: Be careful what you wish for.)
• Have attended two school conferences, a parent group meeting and am now the co-secretary for Juniorina's school's parent group.  It occured to me that it would be just like blogging a conference.
• Have cut back alcohol consumption by about 90%. (The fact that I consider this notable is a good indication of why I needed to curtail my tippling in the first place.)
• Got fully immersed as a good neighbor last weekend when I became closely involved with an elderly neighbor's health crisis.  Our neighborhood matriarch has had shingles and fell three times within 12 hours. The third time, I got an ambulance to the house, accomapnied her to the hospital and stayed with her until she was admitted. I also located an adult daughter in Phoenix to let her know what was going on and to ask how I could help.  I've been visiting Mildred every couple days, getting her stuff from her house, and got my girls to help rake her yard.  It's been a really nice way to learn more about my neighbors and new community.  I'm hoping to see her back in the house this week.
• Reading reading reading:
  • Tab Hunter Confidential 
  • Martha Washington: An American Life
  • The Tender Bar: A Memoir
  • Elizabeth (biograph of Elizabeth Taylor)
  • Life Fast, Die Young: The Wild Ride of Making Rebel without a Cause (Director Nicholas Ray was a La Crosse native)
• Watching watching watching
  • Juniorette has turned me into a Full Metal Alchemist fan (in Japanese, no less).
  • Catching up on first two seasons of House via Netflix, since I didn't start watching until well into the second season.  Also threw Blackadder III into the Netflix queue. Honest! I had no idea who Hugh Laurie was until last year.