A Visit to the Library

Tuesday morning I went to the Marietta Central Library’s Georgia Room to do some genealogy research. As usual, I was early. They open at 10:00am and I arrived about twenty til.

When I parked I noticed a police car, with a cop inside, parked in a row with other cars closer to the building. I walked up the sidewalk which leads in. Two young men were standing talking. Just as I got near them a big shiny Chrysler pulled up to the curb and the man inside hollered to the two men. “Hey! Do you have a cigarette?”

One of the men said, “You talking to me?”

Inside the car, “Yeah!”

“No!”

The car pulled way. As I was opening the door I overheard one of the men say, “A motherfucker man in a Chrysler expects me to run a cigarette out to him? Shhheeeeeeett!”

Inside I saw that the a metal gate was lowered about ¾ down. I found out soon that it was not completely closed so that employees coming to work could just stoop and walk under the gate. But for the rest of the people it meant stay out unitl we raise it.

About a dozen people were waiting. I saw over to the side were boxes of income tax forms. Oh yeah, yesterday was the deadline. A blond middle age lady with white short shorts came rushing in. She saw the gate lowered down, paused for a moment, looked irritated that something should stand in her way, then lowered her head and went right on in. Somebody told they were not opened yet and she told them, as if she was correcting them, like how dare they insinuate she didn’t know, “I know that! I came to get a form IRS 1020!”

The person inside told her the forms were in the boxes inside the foyer. She dug through the boxes, found the 1020 she was looking for and rushed out.

It is amazing, at that time she was evidently a day late on mailing her taxes in and suddenly she is in a rush and she expects everybody to hop to her schedule?

At 10:00am the gates magically rose up to the ceiling and we went in.

In the Georgia Room the librarian knows me and is friends with my sister. We spoke. She used my name but I couldn’t remember her name. And she asked how Frances was doing and I told her we were taking to Emory the next day.

I was doing my research and not too long a little white headed man who had a library employee badge on walked in and talked to the librarian. I quickly figured out he worked in the building. I also recognized him. I worked with him on the Census 2000.

He is a retired Postal carrier, I knew the street he lived on, the fact that he is a Civil War re-enactor, the fact that he wears a hearing aid, the car he drove in 2000 but could not remember his name.

After he walked away I went up to the librarian that I couldn’t remember her name and asked what was the name of the person she was talking to – and I told her everything I knew about him, which was a lot, and she said, “Carl.”

Later, my sister told me the librarian’s name is “Carolyn”.

A lot of times I remember a lot about a person, but I am bad with names. My retention ability of proper names is not good at all.

Before leaving, I went by the information desk and asked about the availability of e-books or i-books. I was told that they have plenty to choose from and you can go to their website and pick out the book you want to read electronically and download it, but she added you may have to be on a waiting list for some e-books. Waiting list? I can’t figure that one why unless they are authorized just so many people to download at a time.

Late in the day Anna's stiches were removed.

When leaving the library going back into the parking lot I noticed the police car with a cop sitting in it was still there, but another police car, a van, with someone in it, was parked several rolls over. Were they watching for something? Like men in long shiny Chryslers who ask for cigarettes?