The Baboon Congress

Fear of Flying

73 Comments

A Guest Blog by Jacque

In my young adult years I worked in a library twice, once in college “keypunching” the stacks during the first computerization of the collections, then later, at the front desk of the Public Library in Grand Rapids, MN. There in that presumably intellectual, quiet, sedate literary setting, I found a noisy, messy, colorful human parade.

It was not at all what I expected.

One day while I was at my front desk post, a quiet man who frequented the library shot through the entry door carrying a bag, making a beeline for me. He abruptly stopped, spun around to face me, then reported to me that he had just returned from a trip to Martinique where he owned an estate. He handed me the bag saying, “These figs are from my estate. They are for you. Next time I go there, you must accompany me.” He turned and fled out the front door. I was stunned. I looked at the bag of figs. The bag was from the local green grocer who was offering figs on a special. The library book he returned was a book about Martinique. Although he was at the library often, he never spoke to me again, silently presenting his books at the checkout station, then moving on.

Another patron routinely checked out grocery bags full of paperback romances—Harlequins, bodice rippers, tattered and torn books. She always returned them on time, then took another bagful with her out the door. However, the patron was so shy she could hardly look at me. When she did look at me she frequently had a bruise on her cheek or her arm, or a black eye. Not a romantic life at all I feared.

Most afternoons at the library between 2:30 and 3:30 p.m. local businessmen would come in and sit in the lounge area near the front desk where the newspapers were located. They would read and chat with each other. It was a party atmosphere.

One afternoon at that time when the area was full of these patrons, a ditsy blonde approached the front desk. “I’m going on a vacation to England,” she announced to me loudly and proudly. “But I am afraid of flying. I need the book Fear of Flying by Erica Jong!” hitting the J heavily.

“Excuse me?” I said, surprised. “Fear of flying?”

“Yes! I’m going to England on an airplane. But I get so nervous, so I want to read that book to get over it.”

I cleared my throat, uncomfortably viewing the room full of businessmen and lowering my voice. “Well, ma’am, actually, you might not want that book. That is an erotic book. It’s not really about air travel.”

“Oh, yes it is!” she insisted. “ I read about this in a magazine.”

“Um, no, Ma’am, it is an erotic book.”

“Erractic?” she said loudly. “Well, of course I’m erratic!. That’s why I’m scared on an airplane! Now, where can I find that book?”

The businessmen were looking at us. She had certainly garnered their attention. Several were chortling.

“Ma’am,” I said in a whisper. “Not erratic. EROTIC. It’s a SEXY book.”

“Well, I want that book.” She demanded.

I gave up, my face reddening, then directed her to that section of the stacks. She brought the book back and checked it out. I thought it might cure her anxiety – surely the subject matter of the book and the shock of the content would distract her from her fear of air travel. But I’m sure that this book was not what she thought it was. She had a significant misconception about the Fear of Flying. I just wish I could have watched her read the first few chapters.

Have you encountered anything that turned out to be very different than what you thought it was? A book? A job?

73 thoughts on “Fear of Flying”

  3. rise and shine jacque,

    nice launch point. good stories about a past life. i was on a plane in the 70s sitting next to an attractive woman who was reading fear of flying and i made a comment about how that would certainly be a good book to read on a plane and inquired as to if she was a fearful flier. i think i caught her in a hot moment of the book because she blushed and whimpered and looked at me like i had just propositioned her. i told the colleague i was meeting about it and he roared with laughter, he told nme it wasn’t about flying and if i was a little better read i would have known i was hitting on a woman who was into exactly the same thing i was looking for.

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    1. I should ask my wife to be on today. She had the same job with the same kinds of characters in the Two Harbors library. She could tell you about the man who painted his teeth red, the old men who bought her DQ all the time, her stalker, Alcoa Bob, the man who got bodice-rippers for his wife, the woman who wanted to read a dirty book, kids, and stamps, the board member who danced, etc. etc. etc.
      Thanks for your tales, which my wife will love.
      And what was not as expected . . .uh . . . hmmm . . . life, pretty much.
      On the bike and into work.

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  4. LOL! My parents were loud and emphatic about their opposition to book censorship and as an annoying teenager, I felt the need to test their position more than once. The most memorable, however, was when I decided to read “Fear of Flying” while my family was on vacation. I remember that the paperback had a picture of a woman’s nude torso w/ a zippered shirt across it diagonally. Not too explicit (until you read the book to find out what the zipper meant!) but just racy enough. Neither of my parents ever said anything about it, but I did notice that if I left it laying around with the cover facing up, that when I came back, it would be turned over so the picture didn’t show!

    Thanks for reminding me of a fun memory.

    Have a great day all!

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    1. Wiw, all I can remember from Fear of Flying (read it in maybe 1972) is that the husband thought he was Jesus Christ or something… I wonder what that says?

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  5. Greetings! OMG, that is so funny, Jacque! I had no idea libraries were frequented by such interesting characters that weren’t in the books. I remember that book, too. I can’t think of anything pertinent to the question at the moment. So many things aren’t what I thought they should be. It always pains me to realize that not everybody thinks like I do or feels the need to be polite, kind and compassionate in this world.

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    1. I’m with you on that one, Joanne. I’m always wondering if it’s me or are my fellow human beings really so callous and insensitive. I have found great kindness and compassion among this great tribe of baboons, though.

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  6. Morning–

    Speaking of books… it was ‘Catch 22’ that my mother wasn’t very enthused about me reading. The book was already in the house so one of my siblings must have bought it… but I had it out and mom didn’t outright say ‘Don’t you read this!’ it was more subtle… but I knew she didn’t want me to.

    So I just hid it in my dresser while I read it.

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  8. Ah, yes, the foot fetishist, the hamburger in the bookdrop, the razor blade cover art thief, the homeschooled kid whose parents both worked and left him to spend all day playing MMPORGs on the library computers, the mentally handicapped woman who hoarded books on tape from 5 different systems, the swarm of frogs (Technical Services got garter snakes!),the 90-year-old teaching herself French from Rosetta Stone, the anime fankids, the INS applicants and the first-time resume writers…good times at the public library. Sometimes, especially when the office job is particularly boring and meaningless, I really miss it, but then I remember why I left: no full-time jobs, subbing hours getting cut back, and spending most of my time as an Internet-use referee cum babysitter. So my career as a librarian was one of those things that didn’t turn out as I expected, and I’m still sad about that. At least I paid my MLS off!

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    1. Just to be clear, I loved the French student and the anime kids, and had a lot of respect for the immigrants and working-class people who had never touched a computer in their lives but were trying their best…and actually listened when I explained things to them! They and the people who came because they loved books made the job worthwhile. It was the ones who treated the staff like servants and the library like their private collection that drove us all up the walls.

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    2. Wow, never encountered the razor blade! But the head librarian did keep for herself the first edition, autographed Mark Twain novel a patron accidently dropped in the book drop. Also had a board member who hoarded cats in the creaking family mansion. She would come over and take the newest, choicest books, keep them a long time, then return them covered with cat urine; ruined, of course. Also had a co-worker who picked through the garbage.

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    3. Being a patron, and not a librarian, I have sort of the opposite side of this coin. There is a librarian at my local branch who has been at the branch since it opened 40 years ago. I’m pretty sure that she issued me my first library card once I was old enough to sign my own name on the card (I was probably about 7). When I told a friend, who grew up in the same neighborhood, that I had moved in around the corner from the library, her first question was, “is the red-headed librarian still there?” Yes, and now that I’m a grown-up I know she has a name! She always says hello, asks after my mom (who also frequents the same branch), and seems delighted with all the third-generation patrons that are showing up at her branch. Kinda neat to have that sort of connection. (The library being so close was one of the major selling points of the house when we moved in.)

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  9. Good morning to the explorers of the unexpected,

    As has been pointed out, life is just a long series of unexpected encounters. Thanks, Jacque, for telling us about some of the very interesting encounters you had as a librarian. When I was younger I’m sure I had a number of very unexpected encounters, but none come to mind immediately. These days I can use a computer and other sources to check out any thing I want to do which reduces the changes of something being a big suprise. I was suprised by a book I read not too long ago.

    I had read that One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is one of the greatest books of our time. I decided to read this book and I really struggled with it. I knew it might not be my “cup of tea” because I had read some short stories by Marquez that were interesting, but not too appealing to me. I was sure I would learn to like Marquez if I read his famous book, but it didn’t happen.

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    1. I read both One Hundred Years of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera. They were both more “work” to get through but I did enjoy the stories and imagery I got from his writing style. I could appreciate the sense of history evoked in his writing.

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      1. Thanks for the replies, Krista and Clyde. I’ve been busy today, so I am late with my reply. I feel certain that Marquez has a great deal to offer and if I keep trying I think I might get a lot more out of his work.

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  11. The TH library had a wondewrful very long-time board memeber, the famously kooky and much-much-beloved offshoot off of the most prestigious family in TH (among the starters of 3M). Henry loved everybody and everybody loved both Henry and my wife. So they were the perfect match. Henry would, in the old days of the grand entry stariwell of old Carnegie libaries, dance his way up the stairs to greet my wife. He was in his 80’s when he did this.
    My wife and the other librarians kept track of many of the lonely old people of town. If one had not been in for awhile, they would check on them. Found more than one in trouble. We used to deliver secret presents to them on their birthdays and Chritmas, which was fun for us and our kids.
    But of course, as two at least two others on here can tell, in addition to the socially unusual, a small town library is the meeting place for some of the best and most interesting people in a town.

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  12. The two most unexpected things in my life lately:
    1) this blog. This is the only one in which I have ever participated. Never expected anything like this. Now as I think of it, sort of like the the TH, Grand Rapids or other small town libraries for the wonderfully interesting, smart, verbal, open people who walk in the door, plus the respect shown, which is so rare everywhere else right now, and as I hear, uncommon on blogs.
    2) what retirement will be like and mean.

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    2. what are you retiring form clyde. the educational material that got sold and buried? the lay ministry? i hope you keep your finger in the pie of the educational systems or guidance you have to offer. i will bet your heart and experience leads you to a new take on what retirement offers. i love the description i heard recently that was : being retired means getting up a 6 am every day with nothing to do and by noon you are two hours behind. i will wish that on you.

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  13. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard someone say “I didn’t know he was a drinker until after we were married!” I think married life is a prime example of getting more, or less, or something entirely different, or something even better, than we expected.

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  14. What a wonderful story, Jacque! I only hope your confused library patron got to fly a lot on her vacation.

    I have two fond memories of libraries.

    When I was a kid, our town library had a window that you passed on the way in, a window about three feet long. In it an artistic woman would create dioramas based on themes from popular books. Each time I approached that window I was filled with excitement about what the scene would be. It was a magic little box that invited the visitor to cross the line from the world of mundane reality to the fantasy world of books.

    In college I learned that I had to study virtually every hour that I wasn’t in class, so I’d walk to the library each morning and drop some books to claim a study carel. Then I’d read and write in my carel throughout the day until it was time to end the day. The day ended when my girlfriend and I left the library to spend an hour or two kissing in the student union. To make sure my kisses were tasty I kept a bottle of Lavoris in the library, hidden behind a really, really boring leather-bound book about the Iowa legislature. Lavoris was the brand my girlfriend used, so we matched. When I went back for my 40th college reunion I went in the basement of the library to find my old Lavoris bottle, but the books had been re-shelved and it was gone.

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  15. Interesting how many librarians we have. Any cats in your libraries? There’s a charming book Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World written by the head librarian in Spencer, Iowa. I wanted to be a librarian, considered going back to school once my son was in kdgn., but then worked in bookstores instead.

    I think Clyde is right. Life in general is full of unexpected things. People often turn out to be different than you think once you get to know them well. First husband comes to mind — he seemed like such an adventurous, exciting kind of guy who turned out to be anxiety ridden… let’s not go too far down that road.

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  16. I remember seeing something on MentalFloss.com last year about various library cats — made me wish my local library had a cat. Although I do enjoy going to Wild Rumpus bookstore where they have cats and chickens!

    My favorite library story is from my 8th year. The library was across the street from the big grocery store, so my mom would let me hang out at the library while she shopped. Heaven for me. The summer reading program that year involved a treasure chart; you colored in little squares along a path for each book you read and at the end, you got some kind of prize. I not only filled in all the squares on my sheet, but I did two more entire sheets that summer. I don’t even remember what the prize was, but I do remember eagerly coloring in each square after finishing a book! My daughter has a summer reading program each year that we devise and I have to admit that filling in squares is almost always involved!

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    1. whenever meeting someone for a get together i set the meeting at a bookstore. then if im late i know they will be ok and vice versa. love the notion that ill have time i never have to read stuff i will never get to look at again. i am almost sad when they show.

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  18. In graduate school we were assigned carrels or study spaces, and my first week of school I was very frustrated by the the fact that my assigned carrel was still occupied by someone named Chris and I couldn’t move in until Chris moved out. I had no idea of Chris’ gender, but somehow thought Chris was female. I was told that “she” was in Wisconsin and wouldn’t be back for a week or more. Little did I know then that Chris would end up being my husband. I should have learned, though, that his late arrival to move out of his carrel was his MO, and that he was always late, and since we have married, I, too, have rarely been on time.

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    1. Isn’t it nice, Renee. to be married to someone who is late? I always appreciated the spare time I had when I was ready to go somewhere but my wife was running around the house trying to get dressed. And since she left, I have never ever been late for an appointment. It is my way of saying to the outside world that all those times we were late before were not my fault! Ha! The secret little ways we take revenge on those who had the gall to divorce us!

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      2. The major incompatability in our 45 year wonderful marriage is that my wife is late for almost everything, over 95% of the time, and I consider being late very rude. But we worked it out–I just keep my mouth shut. I am no more patient. Just don’t say anything.

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      1. Quite often I would be ready to go at the same time as my former spouse, but she had an inability to walk out of the house. My daughter and I would sit in the car in front of the house and count the number of times she would try to get out the door. While we watched she would leave the house, take three steps, then turn back to do something she just remembered “had” to be done. My rule of thumb was that it took her four shots to make it out the door and all the way to the car. And like you, wise Clyde, I didn’t DARE say anything about this.

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    3. At one job where I was receptionist, our consultant was routinely 10 minutes late for appointments I had scheduled him for, and I had to sit with the offended party and make polite conversation till “Pierre” finally walked in. I started telling him his appointments were 15 minutes earlier than I scheduled them, and it worked like a charm. 🙂

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      1. My father was the late one in our family. By the time I was 10 or 11, my mother had started telling him an earlier start time than she told the rest of us. He clearly knew that she was giving him an earlier time; it didn’t seem to bother him and it actually seemed to work.

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      2. I have learned to pad our expected arrival time for Darling Husband, too. It’s not that he can’t keep track of what time it is, it’s that he is horrid and knowing how long any given task will take him to complete. This includes everything from getting dressed to projects around the house to errands. It’s just how he is, so I have learned to add 50% to whatever his time estimate is for anything. That way I’m pleasantly surprised when it takes less time rather than annoyed when it takes more.

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      3. Like Clyde, I consider lateness a form of rudeness. My former wife’s brother married a chronically late woman. Late, as in REALLY late. (After yesterday’s debacle, I’m staying away from italics.) That couple is typically an hour and a half late, and that’s to a dinner party where being 90 minutes late could screw up the meal.

        My little way of taking revenge on them is to be naked in the shower at the moment they are due. If they were ever to be on time, things could get exciting. But I never worry about that. It won’t happen!

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      4. My husband’s lateness is due to his inability to accurately estimate how long it will take him to do something. He often works late in order to finish reports and evaluations, and I always double the amount of time he says it will take him to finish and come home.

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  19. Great story, Jacque!

    Life has taught me not to have expectations. I always expected a lot from every experience. High expectations only result in deep disappointment. So I try not to expect too much anymore.

    I had a chat with our last remaining summer intern, Holly, yesterday. She’s a 30-year old mother of two who has just completed her degree in zoology. We were chatting because she told me she’d be out of the office today for appointments at the Mayo Clinic. I said, “You’re awfully young to be spending the day at the Mayo Clinic, Holly.” She told me that she has a rare, incurable blood disorder in which her red and white blood cells and platelets reproduce abnormally and rapidly, similar to leukemia. She takes chemotherapy on a daily basis. This cancer doesn’t go into remission. She keeps it at bay by taking the chemotherapy every day, as directed. She has had it for nine years. She said, “People complain about disappointment in life. I’m happy to be anywhere.”

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  20. My wife was primarily the children’s librarian, an ideal job for her. Made the kids section warm and wonderful and inviting and full of color and safe and relaxed and open to all kids of all sorts. She is fondly remembered by hundreds of kids who went through in her years there. Ran a wonderful summer program. Prizes were things she would gather, a few bought from precious library funds, many donated by local merchants, many paid for by adult frequenters of the library who cared about kids and kids reading. The common one was a certificate for a free cone at the DQ. Then the DQ sold to a cheap cheap former colleague of mine who would not give the certificates. Imagine how much DQ was bougth by a family because one or two kids got a free cone in the late summer. But here’s the best: he got mad at her because he did not buy them to give out.

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  21. My memory of the library in Coon Rapids (IA) was that it was in the secord floor of a brick store front on Main Street. It must have been very small compared to the libraries I have been in since. I started on the Great Illustrated Classics, and I know I read Oliver Twixt and Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

    The downstairs storefront had a candy store run by a tiny, little old lady and sold penny candy that cost-surprise! a penny.

    The thing in my life that turned out to be very different than I thought it would be? Motherhood. May elaborate later.

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  22. “Speaking of books” (this is an excuse to go off-topic) I read nba “unexpected thing”:
    My son bought me a book on the history of the development of shipping in the Upper Mississippi. Very good book, if you are interested in such things, as he and I are. In the 1870s and 80s, the railroads had developed to the point where they were a monopoly and were putting farmers out of business on the high rates they were charging to ship grain. So two lines of argument developed and note which party argued which:
    Republicans argue that rates should be be government controled and democrats argues that was unconstutional and an interference in free trade capitalism. So Reps. argued the federal goverment should develop the Upper Mississippi for shipping to break the monopoly. Dems argued it was a states’ rights issue, that the states should do and it was unconsitutional and it was too expensive. A 4.5 foot channel was done by the Army Coprs of Engineers. Then 30 years later it was argued to deepen it to 6 feet. Then 30 years later to develop it to 9. Along the way the two parties completely changed sides.
    Also, the railroads fought it very hard in the first go around. In the second the railroads lobbied for the deeper channel because they did not want to buy more railroad cars to ship all the grain rotting in the Midwest for lack of delivery.
    Wait a few years in politics and everything turns 180 degrees.

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  23. My wife loves all the library stories, especially Steve’s diorama window and Catherine’s penny candy store. And she says she is only late 85% of the time.

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  24. I always thought that people who had lots of money had lives of ease. That was until I became a billionaire, and found out it’s much harder than it looks. Other rich guys are always challenging you to give away money, even if they have a lot more than you do, and then people make movies portraying you in an unflattering light. Who knew being obscenely wealthy would be so stressful?

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    3. You remind me of a t-shirt I think was in the NPR catalog at one time:

      Please, dear Lord. Feel free to give me the opportunity to prove that vast wealth will not change me.

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    4. Good to hear from you, Jeff! In my fantasies of receiving an enormous sum of money, the part that does seem to bring stress is how to deal with it all. How much do you give to family or friends or long lost relatives — if at all? Like Spiderman, “with great power comes great responsibility.” I could see myself painfully trying to spend the money appropriately, re-thinking and second-guessing everything I do. If you didn’t grow up with wealth, becoming a billionaire is a major learning curve I would think.

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      1. Funnily enough, that is a favorite game of ours. We speculate what we would actually do if a milllion dollors miraculously came into our possesion (after taxes, etc).

        It helps us decide what our priorities are and I have to say, we can go through that million rather handily, between big projects and big causes.

        One of my proudest moments was when the s&h declared that he wanted a percentage to buy books, but not to spend all at once, because good books keep being written.

        Knew I had a reader on my hands.

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    6. just in case you are for real jeff we are looking for a music sponser here on trial baboon and a way to keep dale off the streets. be the baboon sugar daddy please. by the way i hear the movie leaves us wondering about the guy who starts the fb phenomena. let dale be a relief valve for your stress.

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  25. Have been thinking about the question of expectations throughout the day. Really I think being a grown-up is the biggest thing that is different than what I expected. Like a lot of folks, I think I figured by the time I was an adult, I would know so much more about life, and how things worked, and where I was going and…you get the idea. But I am still amazed and stunned with how little I know of what will happen, how it will happen, how things work, when I will feel “grown-up.” It’s almost like as a kid I kind of expected that at some point there would be an internal switch that would flip and I would become a Responsible Adult. Only that hasn’t happened (my dad once reassured me, though, that I don’t really need to be a Responsible Adult – I just need to pay the bills on time).

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  26. Today is the day when all the trees in Mankato have decided to let go their leaves, which is a omen to me to let go of my leaves too.

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  27. As the topic of libraries seems to be dear to many hearts, I thought I would mention a book I’ve been intending to get a hold of – Reading Rooms: America’s foremost writers celebrate our public libraries with stories, memoirs, essays, and poems. It includes writings by Eudora Welty, Edith Wharton, E. B. White, Isaac Asimov, Alfred Kazin, Philip Roth, Susan Toth, and Sue Kaufman, among others. Perhaps others on the blog have read it. It’s been on my list for awhile.

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