I found out when I was leaving work this evening that one of my colleagues had an interaction with one of our long-time patrons, that saddened me but didn’t ultimately surprise me.  And the fact that I wasn’t surprised was part of the sadness.  I know that sounds a little obtuse, but I can’t really explain it more than that.  Still and all, it made me think about this patron and dredged up old feelings that are usually stored in a very deep place that can remain untouched for weeks or months on end.  In the process of writing to my colleague, I copied and pasted an essay I’d written years ago about this patron in a staff blog, before A Case For Books was even a twinkle in my eye … although the reaction I got to my original post put the first idea in my mind that maybe one day I would start a personal blog of my very own.

Since I had that blog post on the brain, I’m going to copy and paste it into this blog, too.  I’ll need to make some changes, first, mostly to the names of people and places.  But the soul of it will remain intact.  I’ll put it up tomorrow, when I’m more focused and coherent (because right now I’m unfocused and blue).  Since I have the day off, I might post it early in the day and then go out to the movies, or catch up on some laundry, and then check back in the afternoon to see what you think of it all, Dear Readers.

It’s a weird feeling pulling off a scab.  It’s weirder still doing it in front of an audience.

After I get that out of my system, I promise that I will move on to happier subjects for a while.  I have at least one book review in the pipeline, plus a post about spam that should be entertaining.  Or at least it’ll more cheerful than all this maudlin stuff.

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