pat yourself on the back. But not so often that your arms become unnaturally long. And not in response to someone commenting on their own similar ability. I hate that. And if I am guilty of that with this post then you have my permission, indeed are encouraged, to smack me down.
I am really good at research. Always have been. Going back, back, back into the dark ages of the world of brick and mortar libraries only. Oh yes, we had encyclopedias and dictionaries at home but libraries had more plus, microfiche.
Whatever I don’t know interests me. My shrink said I was the most curious person he had ever met and by curious he didn’t mean odd, tho I am that too. He suggested I become a private detective or a journalist. I’m not sure how those two equate, I don’t think the term ‘investigative journalist’ existed back then.
I would, and did, spend hours in the library racing down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. Just as I now spend hours at my computer, not just chasing answers but getting sidetracked and bushwhacked by new information that leads me out of one rabbit hole into another. I didn’t really understand that people didn’t know that libraries had the answers to all their questions.
Por ejemplo –
Guy I was living with was a history buff. He knew enough about the library to obtain books on the subject, primarily modern history, 20th century, WWII – along those lines. He became interested in Thomas Brackett Reed, an American politician. He remarked that Reed’s most important speeches had only been printed in the Congressional Record and he really wanted to read them. I said “So, go to the library and read them” His response was along the lines that he wasn’t prepared to go to Washington, DC. I responded in, I suppose, an exasperated tone of voice – “The library down the block has every issue of the Congressional Record on file, either on microfiche or bound.” The man was shocked and surprised while I couldn’t believe than an intelligent, well read, middle-aged man didn’t know how to use a library. Further adventures ensued from his discovery.
As much as I love a library, Google has been a dear good friend.
I have so many bits and pieces of poetry in my head that I can’t always connect a remembered line with the entire poem. I spent years (YEARS) trying to track down a poem based on one line, a mis-remembered line as it turns out. I scoured every library source, I had the idea that it was from one of the war poets. Turns out I was wrong about that too. The Wonderful, All-Knowing Google finally put me out of my misery – the poem was by William Blake. He was never on my radar as the poet – never.
Recently the same problem presented itself. It wasn’t even a line that I remembered, just the sense of the poem and good old Google came through and saved me years of frustration – I searched ‘poem+throw’ and Bingo! there was the poem. To save my sanity, I copied the poem and have it saved in my documents.
So, here I am patting myself on the back because I am a whiz-bang researcher. I have patience for nothing, except, research. Curiouser and curiouser, I am. And I will stop at nothing to satisfy that curiosity.
And now for something completely different – today’s haiku
Wind gently whooshes Softly through open windows. Ah, nature's sweet breath.