I’m here at the library writing some articles, but of course something is going on that has distracted me. I need to find myself a windowless closet to get my stuff done. Someday I will find that closet.
Libraries are quiet places, or should be, right? Although I really love this library, it’s not entirely noise-free and I have always wished that it had a closed off quiet study area for people like me who can’t work at home, with music, with chatter, with views…you get the idea.
There is a father across the room playing chess with his young son and he is SHOUTING! Well, maybe not the dictionary definition of shouting, but the library definition of shouting. The pet-peeviest part for me is that I think his volume is loud for the benefit of others. He’s sharing all kinds of chess wisdom, and I believe he has a dual purpose: #1, so others can hear his chess wisdom, and #2, so others understand how cool it is for a boy to understand and want to play chess at such a young age. Before they sat down, I heard him say, “Oh, here’s a book on biodiversity. Can you guess what that means?”
This reminds of a time when Anna was a baby, but old enough to go to a local playground. A father was there alone with his child who was not that much older than Anna. He was teaching his baby that a particular shape on the playground was a heliotrope. Not a climbing thing, as I told Anna it was, but a heliotrope.
I admit this is not the most considerate of posts, and this being such a small town, I might even know Witty Chess Dad, and have most likely seen him at an event or two or seven. Enough with the high-volume academic chatter, though! Enough!