July 22, 2007
a ball coming right at you. It's a whole other game down here. Up in 325, the game is, for the most part, a quiet, elegant chess match that happens way down there. Down in 117, the game is grittier, louder, messier and happening right in front of you. The Tigers have already advertised next season's tickets and that's got me thinking about where we want to be for next year. Different seats make for different games. In the months that come, I'm going to be thinking about which game I like more. Maybe we could even get seats near the Tigers dugout so Curtis could see my "Librarians for Granderson" sign which, so far, has only existed in the realm of the imaginary (sort of like my Jeter poster, Dave).
July 21, 2007
because I'd wanted to go to the Negro Leagues tribute game. Both the Tigers and the Royals wore replica uniforms from their Negro League teams (Detroit Stars and the Kansas City Monarchs) and in the Pre-game, several players from those teams were introduced and they were available for autographs before the game . As the teams took to the field in their uniforms, one could easily imagine being in an entirely different time period. Our seats for this particular game were up in the 325 section where, for the record, I really learned to love the game-- more about that later-- and where one gets a spectacular view of Detroit's skyline. Sitting up there watching baseball makes me think a lot about Detroit and about its history. Tonight, watching my players in historic uniforms and having seen actual Negro Leagues baseball players was a stark reminder of how little I knew about this part of history; not only baseball history but history in general. How is it that I hadn't heard about Satchel Paige or Norman "Turkey" Stearnes until this week? This week is also the 40th anniversary of the Detroit Riots or the Detroit Rebellion depending on who you're talking to. How, I wondered, was it that I never heard about the Detroit Riots/Rebellion until I moved to Windsor? I remember being at a block party in our first weeks here and a neighbour lady, Jenny, told me about how most of Windsor sat on the riverbank and "watched Detroit burn" that week. 40 years later, it doesn't take long to notice the physical, cultural, social, economic and political scars from those events. It's hard not to think about history perched up in section 325 gazing across the field and over the skyline. It's also hard not to think about how little I know about Detroit history and about history in general. I'm going to work on that. I left the park feeling grateful for baseball and all it teaches me and all that it demands I think about. Here are a few links worth looking at.
While on the treadmill at the gym on Saturday I managed to catch this episode of Jacob Two Two. In "Jacob Two-Two and the Bookworm Brouhaha," Jacob becomes a Library Ninja and vows to track down the "Bookworm" - the Library's most wanted villain and holder of a world record late return fine. I was particularly amused by this episode since it featured library ninjas and great lines like:
Julie (who is expecting baby Blippy any day now), Chris, Dale and I did indeed go to Chapters for the midnight release of HP7 and as I held the book on my lap on the way home, I did feel like I'd captured the Golden Snitch. As I'd mentioned in a previous post, what's amazing to me is the giddiness that is caused by a book. It really is about as close as I can imagine to the Little Nell scenario of Dickens era. Even Professor Snape (see accompanying photo) was pretty excited to get his copy though he was disappointed when I refused to purchase the latest Cosmo. 
I read until about 2:30 AM and decided I'd best put it down or I'd be done it by noon the next day. I'm still torn between devouring and savouring it. For the first time ever, Dale and I are negotiating reading times. Last night after the Tigers game we took turns reading it aloud since we both wanted one more chapter. Today, I took it along to the Tigers game in case we got caught in the tunnel. As it happened, the tunnel was incredibly backed up and I don't think I've ever been so happy to spend 40 minutes under the Detroit River before. I read a chapter outloud and it was so riveting that we sat in our parking spot for another 5 minutes so we could finish that chapter. Friends, who are leaving town tomorrow, have kindly suggested that we pick up their copy (which will arrive in their absence) so that we no longer have to negotiate time shares for the book. Dale's reading it now; I think I get it at nine. I can't wait.
They're already lining up in London. Tonight, along with Chris, Julie and Dale, I'll be lining up too to get my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. This will be the third time Julie and I will have done the midnight purchase and I'm both excited (I am sure Snape will be vindicated) and saddened (it is an end of an era). My intrigue with HP is both personal and cultural. On a personal level, I cannot recall when, as an adult, I've been so captivated and enthralled by a book since I was very small. Reading and re-reading these books as an adult reminds me of why it is that I became a life long reader. I remember books like the Secret Garden or Black Beauty or Anne of Green Gables that lived in my imagination long after I'd put them down. Or books that made hours seem like minutes. Though I've read constantly and widely as an adult, nothing had come close to capturing that amazing feeling of being entirely captivated by a book until the Harry Potter series came along. On a cultural level, I remember the first time Julie and I stood in line and I was awed by the fact that thousands of people were in a Windsor bookstore waiting for a book. I remember people cheering as costumed clerks pushed bookcarts out of the stockroom at midnight and the envy we all felt for those people who dashed out of the store with their copies. I felt a kinship with the Victorian New York readers I had read about who waited on the docks for the latest installment of The Old Curiosity Shop and shouted to the sailors who brought them: "What about Little Nell... is she alive??" T
onight, I'll be calling: "What about Little Snape... is he alive?" Although, if he is or isn't, I don't want anyone to tell me; I want to see the whole story unfold. What fascinates me about all of the Pottermania is that we all really want to know what happens but we don't want to be told: we want to discover it first hand for ourselves. I remember when I arrived home from the last two midnight launches, I stared at the novel in the still silence of my house; it was a beautiful thing to hold and behold. There is something lovely about arriving home at 1:00 am with a pristine new novel and knowing that all around the city people like me are holding it as lovingly as I and that I was not alone in trying to decide whether to devour it in one sitting or parcel out the joy chapter by chapter. I think what I'll miss most about Harry Potter novels is that sense of solitary community that has come from Potter-mania. As I read in my living room or in my bed or on my porch, I know that millions of other people all around the world are reading the very same thing at the same time. That, indeed, is more magical to me than Hogwarts itself.
13 Must-See Google Maps offfers some pretty neat-o things. Wikimapia is a wiki-based map that lets you annotate places. While taking a virtual journey back to Edmonton, I not only found my parents' house, I also found that someone had annotated the little shortcut through the woods that, if you're up for a spritely scamper through the woods, you can take if you miss you bus at the corner and want to catch it on the other side .
For some reason, I decided not to blog about baseball this season and I've regretted it. As all educators know, the act of writing changes how one sees, experiences and understands. Not writing about the games has had an impact on how I view baseball and I miss my previous mindset. Given that I started writing about the game after the All Star break last year, I'm going to dust off my baseball blog again.
This is me joyous at knowing that within a week I should be reunited with the digital camera I left at a ALA session in DC. For those of you who didn't hear this saga, a few hours before we left DC, I realized my camera was not in my bag. After a few phone calls to the likely places, I'd pretty much accepted I'd lost it. Imagine my joy when I got an email from someone at the conference with the subject line "Lost camera?" Wow. She'd been at the session I was at and stuck around to talk with people and noticed my camera. In the pocket of the camera case was the receipt with D's name on it in the camera. She traced him via the ALA message service to our workplace, found him on Uof W's website, thought it odd that he'd be at ALA and then thought he might have been at ALA as a spouse, did another last name search on UofW's website and found me listed as a librarian and then emailed us. Pretty amazing biblio-sleuthing. She brought it home to Philly and another saga emerged when she attempted to FedEx it to Canada from Philadelphia. 
After she made 3 unsuccessful trips to 2 different FedEx outlets, we came up with Plan B which was for her to FedEx it to my brother in Vermont and then have my parents (who happen to be visiting there) bring it back to Canada and mail it to me from Edmonton. So, the poor little camera's on a bit of an adventure: Detroit, DC, Philadelphia, Burlington, VT, Montreal, Edmonton, Windsor. I'll have to get it a new set of batteries to make it feel better. As Alec said about the lid I did not tighten on my water bottle before putting it in my book bag and having it leak all over everything: “I guarantee you’ll do it once.” Indeed indeed. Ah, the kindness of strangers, the resourcefulness of librarians, and the steadfastness of family! Bless them all. As for FedEx...
