2 posts tagged “librarian”

This past weekend, I was in Seattle attending the American Library Association Midwinter Meeting.  My main purpose in being there was to interview with a bunch of library HR people-- I'm looking for a job and looking to relocate.  It seemed to work well.  I had plenty of interviews and meetings to fill the three days I was there. 

On Saturday, I was sitting in a chair, eating lunch, and rarely taking my eyes away from the clock so that I wouldn't miss my next interview. I heard voices coming near me, so I stopped staring at the clock for a few seconds and turned toward the voices.  A man and a woman walked past me, deep in conversation.  I couldn't help but break into a huge grin, as I thought to myself, "Wow.  That man looks just like Gordon from Sesame Street."  The man and woman walked on, and I went back to watching the clock.

When it was nearly time for my interview, I made my way to the job placement center.  Sitting at a table, the man and woman were now eating.  As I passed by them, I thought "That man really does look like Gordon."

I'm sure you can see where this is going, but I was slower-- it took me another walk-by and a quick internet search before I realized that yes, the actor from Sesame Street was attending Midwinter.  I couldn't imagine why, because it was Linda who had been the librarian, not Gordon.  It didn't matter.  Gordon was at Midwinter.  I took out my phone and texted my sister,  "i just saw gordon from sesame street."  I went to the interview, answering all of the questions as best I could (and doing so admirably, I thought), all the while planning my next step:  The Quest to Find Gordon.

It actually didn't take long.  ALA Midwinter isn't as big as the annual conference, and I found the booth where he was promoting a book he'd written.  And then I got shy.   I used to talk to Gordon, Susan, Mr. Hooper, and the Muppets  every day when I was a little kid watching PBS, but it was so strange to see him up close.  It was odd to realize that the man I'd sung and played with as a child really was just a fictional character, and here was a real man who was wearing my television friend's face.  I drew a blank. I couldn't think of a way to start a conversation.  "Thank you for showing Small Child Me that racial diversity is a lovely thing" was true, but it seemed trite.  Instead, I talked to a librarian from New Orleans about recovery and rebuilding. I talked to a man who was portraying Frederick Douglass (this did not seem odd at the time).  And then...  I talked to the lady I had passed those three times at lunch.  I mentioned different Sesame Streets I had seen in my travels.  And she asked me if I'd like to meet him. Yes. And thank goodness she was there;  I would not have been able to do it otherwise.  She brought me over with a "This is Jemfy, and she was just telling me some interesting things..."

All of a sudden I was shaking Gordon's hand, looking at Gordon's face, and Gordon's voice said,  "Hi, Jemfy, I'm Roscoe."

OK.

OK.

I knew that his real name is Roscoe Orman.  I know some of the other shows he's been in, such as a play about Stepin Fetchit.  I know he isn't really married to Susan, and neighbor to Oscar the Grouch.  I know.  But a very small, petulant toddler in me said "Booooooooooo."

I ignored it as best I could and had a pleasant conversation with Gordon Gordon GORDON DAMMIT Mr. Orman.  He asked about my hometown; I described it as a very small town near a very small body of water and managed to shut up before I added "...full of very small people."  With prompting, I told him what I'd noticed about the different Sesame Streets I'd seen, and about my ongoing effort to leave the fishbowl and finish my education in children's librarianship.  He told me about his upcoming children's book, and gave me a publicity poster for it.  He talked a bit about his kids, and we exchanged more pleasantries. 

I'm sure he forgot me immediately.  I don't think I'll forget it, though.  He had interesting things to say, and I do wish I had brought money to get his book-- it sounds like something I'd enjoy.  As I left, I mulled the whole thing over.  I don't think I sounded stupid, and the petulant toddler inside me reassured:  "It's OK, he really is Gordon, just with another name.  He's a nice man."

Both the petulant toddler and the adult librarian agree that he is.

I work in what amounts to be a big, glass fishbowl.  Glass walls on all four sides of my office.  Glass doors.  The analogy ends there for the physical description, as the floor is carpet and the ceiling is that typical white ceiling tile with the holes and the little squiggly indentations made in it.  But anywhere one would normally see a wall, there is glass.  This is normally not an issue.  I get a lot of light coming from outdoors and from the big room surrounding the other three glass walls, this area isn't open to the public and mine is the only office on the floor, and since I work alone and can play the radio with nobody complaining, I've pretty much got it good.

But then, there is Old Lady Day.  One day a month, several old ladies come up to my floor.  They eat pastries and fruit, and do something with books that aren't part of this library's collection.  I guess they could be readying them for a book sale or something, although it seems that the book titles don't change from year to year.  They do their mysterious thing with the books, and eat their food, and all is fine... except for the ladies who choose to stand around my fishbowl and stare at me.  Some of them frown and shake their head at me.  They are angry because it used to be the office of a woman named Sara, and they liked Sara.  But then the special collection got put on this floor, and Sara moved to a different area of the library, and I am here.  The old ladies do not like this change and fuss over it audibly, although it is at least two years since Sara was here.  They don't even try to like me, though I think some of them might be enjoyable company if they weren't so upset that I am not Sara.  They used to come in and tell me about how lovely it was when Sara worked up here, but I started locking the doors on Old Lady Day so that now all that they can do is stand outside of my office on three sides and glare at me.  And they do.

Today is Old Lady Day.