A column by John Estridge
One of my jobs at the Brookville Public Library is going into the Archives Room and sorting through old courthouse records.
At this point and having worked at the library for about 18 months, I have not found a job or task there I do not like, but I really enjoy being around those old records. I am not at a point where I can really read them yet, as I am still sorting and getting them in chronological order.
I know I am a geek about this stuff, but when I read something that a person wrote in 1818 sitting in what then was the courthouse, which is but a few blocks from where I sit and read it 203 years later, I get goosebumps on my goosebumps.
So, while I was doing that and looking forward to doing that through my quitting time, I had to take a necessary “break.” At the end of the “break,” I engaged a handle. The handle went down and water began filling the vessel I had just used. However, the water and debris already in the vessel did not leave that vessel.
There was concern the water and debris were going to end up on the nice, clean floor around me in that nice peaceful, but public setting.
Had I been at my abode, there would have been a plumber’s helper within reach no matter which vessel I was using at that time. One could gather from that, this has happened to me before. I am not a rookie. However, as the “stuff” neared the vessel’s crest, it stopped, which allowed me to breathe again, but I did not breathe too deeply.
Winston Churchill described Russia in 1939 with these words: “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.” I may have not been to that point with my situation, but I was close.
Moving as far away from the brimming vessel as I could in that small, suddenly claustrophobic room, I thought about my next steps. Just about anything I could do from this point could cause embarrassment with the public, and worse, my co-workers. Then, there was an idea. Ideas are not as prevalent for me as they once were, so I was a little shocked by it. My key to the library’s exterior doors also open the janitor storage rooms, and one storage room was just a few steps from the room I was then inhabiting and wanted to get out of in the worst way. And getting to that room would not take me by any of the public or my co-workers.
Locking the door behind me to spare any other unsuspecting people needing a “break,” I went to the janitor’s closet.
My Long Suffering Wife Ruth gets upset with me about quite a few things, but one of the things that really upsets her is I cannot look for things. I am not observant. I will ask her where the milk is in the refrigerator and I moved it to look behind it. I can ask about my glasses, and they are on my head with my eyes looking out of their lenses. I do not concentrate on my task. I think of stupid things, which cause me to think about other stupid things, and then that goes on to the point, I move the milk to look behind it to find milk.
Thus, I took my time and went through the room twice, looking behind everything and trying my best not to let my mind wander, but boy, it wanted to. However, the plumber’s helper was not there. That left one more janitor storage room downstairs in the library’s first floor. I went there next. I repeated what I did the first time and to no avail.
Next to that storage room is the office of my top boss, Susan. It is an office so I could tell her in private what I needed and why I needed it. I knocked on the door and co-worker Cathy, who was manning the nearby children’s library desk, said Susan was not there but she, Cathy, would tell Susan I was looking for her.
My immediate boss, Julie, was back near where I was supposed to be working. I had walked by her quickly en route to the second janitor’s closet, hoping – like I sometimes did a couple years ago when I was a little boy – that I had become invisible. I wanted that at the time so I would not have to inform her of my mission. But now with my options spent and my situation still a situation, I went to her. Of course, I could not look her in the eye as I explained what was what.
To her credit, she did not laugh, at least not out loud. And she went to the rooms I checked and rechecked them. I thought that was a good idea because, as I noted before, I can hold the milk bottle and ask Ruth where the milk is.
But she could not find one either. She reminded me there was one more janitor’s closet upstairs. I must have forgotten that or wanted to forget that option. I dreaded that option. Two female co-workers labor there, and when I am working downstairs, I rarely go upstairs. I knew they would be inquisitive, and what could I say? How could I explain my mission?
So, I went up the stairs slowly and came out across from where they sit. They were each working on projects, but they stopped and asked what I was doing. I told them I was going to the janitor’s closet. They asked more, but I am old so when I want, I act like I cannot hear. That was one of those times.
There, just inside the door was that wonderful plumber’s helper. Again, wishing for my cloak of invisibility, which would include my plumber’s helper, I tried to hightail it – I’m a stroke survivor who is not far from 65 so imagine hightailing it — down the steps far away from the front desk, but it seemed like there was laughter following me down the steps.
However, after carrying it by Julie and carefully not looking at her, I let myself back in that small, odorous room, and did what I had to do. Tragedy and mayhem were avoided.
I went back to my old records and finished up my time. After putting everything away, I exited the Archives Room and went back to my usual desk. Susan was sitting in a nearby chair waiting for me. She said Cathy had told her I was looking for her. What did I need?
I wanted to say invisibility, maybe teleportation – where is Scotty when one needs him — but I did not. I told her the truth. A smile did appear on her face, but it was small and nice. She told me that was nice for me to help out a member of the public. I thought about lying and telling her “thank you, anytime,” but I did not. I told her the true reason.
“That happens,” she said. The laughter was coming a little freer for her. “But at least you took care of it.”
Both were laughing now, and I was really wanting to have that invisibility cloak, but my face, shoot, my entire body was too red for that. I was more of a red beacon than invisible.
https://www.remax.com/real-estate-agents/dennis-kolb-brookville-in/100081480
