Columnists
Purge
In the 1990s, when I decided to go back to school, the Internet was available to the public but it hadn’t gained a reputation as a place to do research for an essay or a thesis. At that time, most family homes and public libraries still had hard copies of encyclopedias on their bookshelves. The library was also the place to go for microfiched, archival materials. The microfiche and the encyclopedia were the go-to resources for the start of most essays or research projects. Then, every 12 months, an encyclopedia yearbook was issued and everything was kinda alright with the world—especially if you were okay with an update that was a year in the making. The drawback with hardcover materials, like an encyclopedia, was a lack of the cut, copy and paste feature. At least with most microfilm machines a person could, for a fee, get a printout. Students, researchers, writers, etc., had to rely on wading through mountains of hardcopy material, taking notes, getting quotes and then writing or typing their submissions. If you were serious, you had a couple of dictionaries, a thesaurus, a stylebook and an MLA Handbook on your desk. Bookmarks were chits of paper tucked between the pages. And, as a writer or a student who relied on a library for research materials, it was all about speed and luck. As soon as you got your essay topic list, it was a mad rush to the library to find the book or books. And hopefully, you got there before your 300 classmates—who may, or may not, have picked the same topic as you did. Of course, there was always the issue of how many books on one topic you could check out at one time. Grrrrr. It was what it was. I managed to wade through a higher education without too much trauma.
January was, and it looks like February will be too, the time for me to clear my desk and my bookshelves of reference materials I no longer refer to. I can honestly say I haven’t referred to a hardcopy dictionary or thesaurus for several years. My style books are out-of-style and the MLA Handbook has been pressed into service as a brace for my aged collection of Fodor’s Travel Guide books. How fitting is that? (I wonder if Aixen- Provence has changed since 1994?) Perhaps it’s alright to let the maps of France go, even though I do love maps. Perhaps it would be a good time to dump the atlas, too. Some of those countries haven’t existed for decades. Don’t get me wrong, not one of the 600 books I’ve removed from my shelves and desk have gone anywhere, except to be stacked in the corner of my studio/office near the doorway. It’s easy to move the material, but difficult to remove it. I am, it seems, emotionally attached to my books. Doing the purge, I realize it has been 31 years since I taught at the college. I suppose it would be okay to put those textbooks on the stack. Does anyone even teach shorthand anymore? What about office procedures? Spelling? Did you know, “Grammar is Good?” Who would, without the text, my course notes and curriculum outlines?
Am I keeping anything? Good question. Of course I am. Chenhall’s Nomenclature, for one. It took me years to justify buying that book. I think I want to be buried with it in my hands. Did someone say Little House on the Prairie collection? We’ve talked about my love of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books and maybe we’ve discussed The Ship that Flew and The Enormous Egg. These books will never leave my shelves. Nor will I part with the books left behind by my parents, as dull and dusty as they may be. Speaking of “may be”, maybe I’ll keep my college and university texts. And I think the shelves would look very bare without the atlases. As far as dictionaries go, I will keep the massive dictionary my mom bought for me when I was six.
I have a feeling the desk and shelves will be as full as they were at the end of December. Perhaps I’ll dump the Sony Discman. Yeah, that’s the ticket!
Comments (0)