So last year I had a much more ordinary condo in a much more amazing location. A year ago I was on Belleair Beach, in a place that I could not have afforded except for the fact that the place was somewhat worn down and in they process of selling the condos and remodeling. But it was right on a beautiful beach in a quiet area. Belleair Beach is so small that there are no gift shoppes that sell Belleair Beach tchotchkes. Perfect.
And the second day after my first traditional restless night, I found out that the big chair was a recliner, which I turned around to face the Gulf and made it my home.
But I was in this wonderful spot feeling massive amounts of anxiety and depression, and to be honest, heart-wrenching sadness. I was wrestling with the fact that I could no longer continue in my low-wage job at the county library, which I had loved dearly. The "new" library director had come in selling a bright shiny object that turned out to be a weapon designed to downsize and devastate our library system. (I wrote about it here a year ago, and in more detail at my Thankful...to Have a Job? blog.)
This year, despite the cold weather and the body wracked with germs, I am feeling at peace with where my life has landed. When I returned from my angst-ridden vacation, I wrote a letter to the Charleston Post & Courier describing the damage that was being done by policies that resulted in thousands of library books being discarded. A couple of weeks later I decided that I could no longer continue to do that job.
Since then I have continued to speak honestly about what I see happening at the library, although (gratefully) not from within, but as a knowledgeable outsider. It is still upsetting, but I am no longer a part of the mechanism of destruction.
My year has been a year of growing and learning new things and feeling as though I've entered another stage, not of retirement, but of being able to do good work that may make a difference. I have been blogging like crazy, and happy to learn that many people enjoy reading what I write. I am learning more about the crazy-land of local politics in South Carolina mostly through helping my friends at the ACLU track legislation. I write letters to the editor, and meet with other Charleston activists. And I am attempting to learn web design. Oh, and I read. A lot.
So I have had restless nights this week, mostly due to my nasty disease bugs, but the dreams I have had have been light. In fact, since I have been giving much thought to where I was a year ago, last night I dreamed that on my last day at the library, I soundly told off the director, who was actually George W. Bush and not Doug Henderson. Either way, a good time was had.
Me and Jack Reacher
I discovered Lee Child just about four years ago, and after a little initial confusion, I am reading the Jack Reacher series in order. Since I just finished DeMille's The Panther, it just makes sense to compare the two.
There was more action in the first ten pages of Echo Burning than in the first 300 pages of The Panther. Reacher, unlike John Corey, is a man of few words, which DeMille (not Corey) could learn from. His whole refusal to grow roots leads to some hysterical character traits and habits, like wearing the same clothes for three days and throwing them out and buying a new (cheap) set. He has no sense of humor, which ordinarily doesn't appeal, but the pace of the plots and Child's ability to make the absurd credible makes for great reading.
Speaking of which, I have about fifty pages left, and I'm in the middle of a gunfight, so I'm off.
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