A brief, if belated, introduction to Vicious Caffeine Addiction

It was a warm spring evening, nearly a decade ago, and we sat on the balcony, beers in hand. We neared the end of another college year and so were filled with introspection and contemplation. Like most college evenings, there could have been two or seven of us, letting the evening slip by on laughter and friendship. As we sat and discussed the courses our lives were taking, Ben said, "Some days, I think the only things I've gotten from college are a lot of useless books and a vicious caffeine addiction."

I've carried the thought with me for years. He was not saying that the books themselves were useless or that we had learned nothing from our days there, but really: when are we going to use Romanticism (Art and Ideas) again? And yet, for those of us who love the printed word (indeed, those of us who love words, printed or spoken, kept or remembered), it is often difficult to dispose of those books, useless or not. Which means many of us continue to have bookcases cluttered with academic texts we are unlikely to open more than once a century. Still, we keep them.

As to the caffeine addiction, who among us hasn't used a coffee, soda, or tea to make it through an all-nighter? Then, of course, there are classes the next day to survive (with another coffee, if not two) and a play that night that you promised you'd go to last week when you had every intention of turning that midnight assignment in the day before it was due.

So here we are, a decade down the road, with piles of books we can't bear to part with falling off our overstuffed bookshelves and several kinds of caffeine in the cupboard. The thing is, I wouldn't give back any of it. I love those books; I love my morning coffee (and my afternoon coffee...and my evening tea...)

This blog is an examination of the intricacies of caffeine and books, of our relationships to words and the people around us, of how we can use libraries to facilitate truth and hope and community service. I hope you'll join me. I hope you'll argue me down from overly-judgmental ideas and persuade me to be interested and committed to those things that matter.

Here we go!

And the Correct Answer Is...

Yes.

The most important thing I (re)learned from ILA this year: say yes. Unless you absolutely can't. And then figure out how to say yes anyway. To your staff. To your patrons. To yourself. Yes is empowering and creative and vibrant and useful. Yes opens doors. It develops faithful patrons, committed staff, and a sense of community. It is the difference between success and failure. So think very carefully before using that "n" word. You don't want to lose something (trust, respect, faith) that you might not get back.