"What's interesting I think is I've always been this person, with this voice, and the way people react to me when I speak has never changed. They either love it or they goddamn want me to shut up."
I've read a lot of interviews with Lauren and other writers, and I like the depth you go into with your questions, it's more of a back and forth, and more enjoyable to read.
This interview is soooo wonderfully in depth, I read it in small chunks & will read it more than once. I love how it closes - those relatives you think are “good people” are the ones you should be talking to, about their harmful beliefs, b/c those beliefs get played out in real time in ways that harm others. That’s systemic oppression.
Also so grateful for LH’s notes about how some childhood experiences can make every fight feel like a fight for one’s survival. I needed this reminder rn.
Also rescue dogs are so much & the fucking best. Love.
Thank you Sera. Lauren is such a force of nature, like a gunfighter with a pen. And I totally agree with you, her answer to that last question knocked the wind out of me. So moving, so I wise. gutting.
This was a fantastic interview. Really enjoyed reading this snuggled up on my couch last night. I also feel fortunate to have stumbled upon Lauren's book (and her Substack thereafter, and now your work through hers!)
Self lymph massage in order to get the lymph glands to work better at getting fluid out of my legs and reabsorbed into the body or urinated out of the body. I do several deep breaths and exhalations trying to move my bellybutton in and out as far as the breath will take it, then I gently push the skin around rhythmically at my neck, armpits, groin, and legs. Then apply the healing anti-itch ointment to my legs. Then reapply the pressure wraps to my legs and feet. Get my feet up as much as I can and exercise my legs as much as I can. I'm working at getting my exercycle upstairs so I can ride it every day and maybe burn some calories so as to lose the weight I need to in order to get my knee replacement surgery. Too bad there aren't any pro bono(boner?) call girls who could help me with this.
Next up is a sleep study. My sleep is not great. Lying on the new bed is fine, but I just can't sleep well lying down like I used to. It might take awhile to get back my youthful sleeping groove. Part of the night lying in bed and part of the night sitting in a chair. I don't know if I'll ever have more than three hours in a row of sleep ever again. And I don't want to take sleep aids. I do get rest mostly due to lack of activity. If I had a job to do then I might exhaust myself daily and get more sleep. But finding something that would be sufferable after I get my body fixed might be undoable.
I guess I have to talk to the docs about those things nobody really wants to do but should after the age of 50--prostate exam and the colo-rectal cancer exam. Getting old has a certain lack of dignity, although I understand women spend their lives having exams for breast cancer and pap smears and such so I shouldn't complain. Let the magic begin. Plus I should see an actual dermatologist to have him check my naked body to see if the remnants of the cysts or lesions are cancerous or something, and if any of my skintags are infected or anything. Just never been a naked adult in front of anyone except once in college during a group strip poker party, and it was a cold fall day that day and playing foosball naked was probably not the best idea.
The author Piers Anthony writes a newsletter each month on his website.
He recently made the following observation about me:
"People seem to both trust and mistrust you almost impulsively."
The following is from his FeBlueberry 2022 newsletter:
"BS Foolsbane" sent me his memoir "Once Upon a Time at the Library." There are aspects of his life I relate to. I have gotten in trouble all my life for trying to be honest and decent and standing my ground rather than be wronged or cheated. The world can be an ugly place. I will call him Mike. He worked for years at a public library, doing the best he could, yet somehow things went wrong. For example the way he lost his job. A woman was using a staff computer, resting her right hand on the desktop next to the computer. Mike used the adjacent phone to call a teacher about a teacher's collection service that was ready to pick her up. He had a paper in his hand with the phone number. After he dialed and was waiting for the connection he lowered his hand and a corner of the paper brushed her hand. She rubbed her hand and said "Uh." Mike said "Must have felt like a spider." That was all. But she put in a complaint, and he got fired. How's that again? Did she think he was making a move on her? Did the library administration check for the facts before making such a decision? Was fairness even considered? But his job was gone. His career had been peppered with similar misunderstandings. But generally he got along with people, and they would tell him private things. One woman told him that she also worked at a prison, and men there would get raped, go to the infirmary, and have their rectums sewn up. Nobody got disciplined or fired there. A female coworker pulled down her pants to show Mike a tattoo or her upper thigh. Another told him she took a whore's bath. I don't know what that is, but it sounds pretty personal. A staff member thought it was funny to call Mike a pederast. Some joke! On occasion he complained to the administration about such things, but nothing was done. It seemed that complaints counted only if they were about him. One acquaintance spot diagnosed him with SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, and decided he was mentally ill. Ouch! As one who was similarly diagnosed and excluded on my insurance for all mental diseases, when what I actually had was low thyroid, I relate. When the manager told him to shelve a cart full of videos, and he did, then next day she told him he had disobeyed her and hadn't shelved them. If there was mental illness, it would seem to have been in that manager, but it degraded Mike's reputation. When he repeated to other staffers what a manager had told him, he got in trouble because it seemed it was a secret. When a circulation manager asked him to get her some information, and he did, he got in trouble for leaving his desk. When he complained about his treatment, his Performance Assessment was downgraded from Strong to Satisfactorily. When he wrote a formal complaint detailing his treatment he was told that if he felt he was being treated unfairly, he should quit the job. On and on; this is depressing reading showing a pattern of prejudice against him. Do I believe it? Yes. Remember, I'm the one who got blacklisted in publishing for six years, accumulating I think it was seven unpublished novels, because I had the temerity to protest when a publisher cheated me. It seems that all too often folk prefer to blame the victim rather than the perpetrator. Sometimes I am ashamed of my species, mankind. Yes, once the blacklist was broken and accounts became honest I became a bestseller at that same publisher. Therein lies a key difference between us: I got a remarkable break. Mike did not. But it shouldn't require a virtual miracle to get fair treatment. So where is Mike now? "My partial pension won't cover my bills [because he got fired before he qualified for more] so I'm going to have to find some part time job that I am physically capable of doing ... It's just that there aren't that many jobs for a 60 year old fat man with a bum knee." This is America? There's an odor."
Hey hey, The personal and detailed account of your time at CML you mailed... Wow. I got it Thursday and devoured it immediately. It just took me till now to process and respond
That is a powerful piece. So many poignant and sincere moments. Staying silent while getting yelled at during a co-worker's move in. Missing Betty's passing as you drove home. Being asked to leave the reference desk for a quick requested task and then reprimanded. Staying late to make sure someone stayed warm while they waited for their ride. Not being allowed to wear sweatpants... I mean the last 2 pages had me holding my breath.
A lot of it I do remember you telling me and chunks of it I had no idea. I know it might not feel like you have meaning or that it may seem like no one cares if you stay alive, but I personally DO hope you stick around. You have meant a lot to me my entire life and I'm sorgy that the dip-shits at the library made you feel less than the truly wonderful person that I and so many people already know to be true. Is there anything I can do to help? Or something I can create, or submit, or cry to heavens? I just don't like the idea of someone that has had such a positive effect on m bringing (and already an effect on Mars with his GIANT Teddy Bear) throwing up in his sleep or his body just waiting to be discovered. I wish I could transport myself and meet you again at AMC 6 to see independence Day or Gahanna 16 to see Jurassic Park for the 1st time, Midgard to drink Mountain Dew and play Dragon Wars, have a drink at the Blue Danube, or simply to sit and play X Men alert for the 1,001st time (I call Banshee) so I could convince you how much you mean to me. Stay sane and thank you for the detailed letter. -Phil
**As I was reading it I did think of this being translated into a graphic. Like American Splendor or I guess more specifically I wish it could be translated into a book by Eleanor Davis ( Who you introduced me to by the way along with countless others) i know she has a new one out, but I think she could really translate your writing into something visually profound.
I've been thinking about your letters the last two days a lot. And sorta wondering like what makes a life. And I don't have an answer to that. And no one does, I guess.
I don't plan on having kids, bio kids at least. Maybe one day down the line I'll adopt a few or whatever but don't really think it is part of my plan. I've had some relationships but nothing that was particularly meaningful yet. And I have no fucking clue if I will have one that others seem to think as meaningful. I know that freaks mom out and that pisses me off more than the singleness does actually. And i don't really like my job hahaha. Like maybe aspects of it. But can't say that I enjoy helping large companies out with their employee benefits. I might be getting my LLM cause I was always good at school, good enough. But that just means I'm going to be a lawyer for the rest of my life cause pile on more debt.
I enjoy the concerts I go to and the friends I've developed along the way and the volunteer activities I've gone to and yoga. Ive enjoyed alcohol so much that my liver doctor tells me I need to cut back or stop drinking (2 months sober!).
I can't say I am happy or whatever. I'm secure and that is good enough some days. It sorta seems like everyone I know is at least a little unhappy. And even on days that I think I'm a horrible human being incapable of love, I can't imagine wanting to switch places with anyone cause they seem miserable too.
And none of that hopefully comes off as me minimizing your pain or anything like that. Or it comes off as some rich lawyer whining. But I don't know. You've made an impact in my life and shaped my personality in little ways I can see everyday. And I can see in Phil's life. And I would guess josh and mel's life. And I see that as a beautiful accomplishment. Changing the lives of at least the four of us. Mostly cause I'm selfish and I'm defining your life based on how it has impacted my life hahahahaha.
And all of the people whose life you've seen at the very end. So many people have trusted you to be the person that they have around them in their last days and moments. I mean that might be one of the most beautiful things I've ever actually heard. And you're a stronger person than me or probably anyone I know for being able to do that with so many people. Maybe not in your vision of how you saw your life going, but that to me is a life lived.
I know that you are hurting and I wish I was able to say something to make the hurt go away. And a lot of people have hurt you and I'm sorry for that. Fuck them. But I'm sorry and I love you. And even if it is just through email and a visit once or twice a year, I'm always here for you as much as I can be and you def are always with me in intangible ways of my personality.
I'm rambling. With all that emotion and sappyness, I feel the need to be a sarcastic dick to counterbalance. Probably not the right time...
This is way overdue. I apologize that it's taken so long to respond to your memoir. I actually received it lastHalloween, and I immediately read through it. I've started a response before.
I think I've thought about your story everyday since I first read it.
I remember on my wedding day, and you said that the times with me, Melanie, Phil, and Matt were some of the best times of your life. I was truly humbled by that. I think about that often too.
Those were some of the greatest times of my life too. I miss those times. Carefree and just playing with Phil and Matt or going to the pool. Eating giant bars and drinking kool aid.
The thought actually struck me recently that without you, I would have seen Phil and Matt much less growing up. Sure, I would have seen them because my mom and Cherise are close, but I think of the mornings where you watched us all. I think of the summertimes where we all spent so much time together. You were a big part of the reason why that was possible.
You've influenced me in ways that I'm sure I don't even realize. In those early years, there weren't too many people I was around more than you. I know you were always able to think outside the box, not sweat the small things, stay patient and calm. I think those were always virtues you exemplified. I'd like to think that some of that rubbed off on me, because those are all qualities I admire.
I've talked about this with Phil before, but I think of some of the activities we did as kids. Many of which, I probably don't even fully remember, but some of our activities at the library, different craft outings like making sand art and sculptures. Eight millimeter films. I don't know if I would have really been exposed to those experiences without you. For that, I'm thankful that I had the chance to try new things.
I'm thankful for you. I'm thankful that I know you. I'm thankful that you played such a significant role in my life. You have always been and will always be very dear to me.
And I'm thankful that you shared your story and your experiences with me.
I hope Cherise, or Joe, or my grandma has mentioned this, but Kari and I are expecting. Baby Benner due in October. We're very excited, although I feeling like that's coming fast. And I can say that I truly hope that some of the things I've learned from you I will pass on to him (including the smell of flowers).
I think of you often.
How 'bout those Lions,
Mike I'm truthfully sorry that life has dealt you a shitty hand. I'm hurt that you have to go through this and more hurt that you feel like you are going through this alone. I know I haven't been around or tried to message and visit which as a friend that is my fault.
I had a chance to read your sad memoir and we never know what's going on in someone's life or how hurt and mistreated they have been. I knew there were some horrible things that happen to you at the library but I didn't see the extent it went because I was blinded.
We can only wish we can turn back time or wish we could of made that first move and life would be different but as you are aware that is not possible. There is nothing I can say to change the outcome of this horrible situation. Negative people will never understand the mind of a genius they can only fear it. YOU SIR ARE A GENIUS. A genius wrapped up in a bubble of love.
Mike I can't explain how much I'm annoyed by the lack of respect that the library has shown you and all I can say is fuck em. Also Fuck HR, fuck the managers and fuck your third grade teacher as well.
Listen I will never understand the mental and physical pain that you are in because it's not my path to complete. You are strong will person and if you believe that yourself you will flourish.
Now let's go to Applebee's tomorrow At 8 pm since I haven't seen you in a while. Stephanie and her kids will be there and I owe you both a drink.
Hi Mike, I'm not sure if you meant to post these comments here? It doesn't bother me but just wanted to alert you in case it was an accident. Hope you're well and thanks for reading.
In 2000 a woman came to the library and spoke with the manager. She knew the manager from her days at Hilltop and the manager invited her to start volunteering at Northern Lights. The woman's name was Betty. She had just lost her husband the year before and was happy to come volunteer. She was a great old lady with a sense of humor and fun stories to tell of her travels. She came once a week to volunteer and she stamped FOL books and restocked the FOL shelves in the lobby. When she had her 80th birthday in 2001 I got her 9 red roses—one for each decade she had lived and one to grow on. One day she called in sick and I asked her if she wanted me to bring her her reserves which had just come in. She agreed and I checked them out to her and took them to her house. In 2007 she was not feeling well and her doctor gave her a stress test and she had to go in for a double heart bypass. I visited her in the hospital and when she got transferred to a rehab facility I visited her there. Her son lived in Michigan and she had a stepdaughter who lived here but she was still working fulltime so she wouldn't be able to help Betty as much as she needed. Betty was talking about finding groups in Columbus who she could pay to do things for her, but I said why don't I do it. She agreed again. For 12 years I drove her to the grocery once a week, to the bank once a month, to her hairdresser once a week, to dozens of doctor appointments, to her cardiac exercise rehab. She still drove herself for some things but she eventually stopped driving altogether. I did odd jobs for her and helped her around her house and did so much else for her. She read voraciously and I reserved over 1,000 books for her. When ocular degeneration came she had to give up reading. We had over 500 lunches together. Her rehab nurses would ask her where she was going for lunch today and she'd say, "I don't know. Where ever Mike takes us—it's someplace new every time." The nurses would say how jealous they were that she got to go to lunch someplace new all the time. As she got older and sicker she needed more and more help. She passed away in early 2019 and I continued to help her and her son by clearing out her house and getting it ready for sale. I was sitting with her in the hospital the night she passed and she was sleeping and I didn't want to wake her up to just say hi. On my way home, she died. She was 97.
One of my coworkers amused herself a couple of times by joking that I was having sex with Betty. I just kind of shrugged it off but I did say to myself (sotto voce), "I wish you wouldn't say that."
There was another long-time customer of the library who passed away in 2019. He had a card shop in Gahanna and I had become friends with him there and he liked to read historical mysteries and I reserved hundreds of books for him. When he suddenly contracted cancer I would visit him at his home while he was undergoing treatment. And then I would sit with him and his family while he was in Hospice. I was unable to attend his funeral because I had to work that day. I loved reserving books for him and Betty.
Sorry to hear the Eye of Sauron finally cast its horrible eye fully upon your bearded punim. I wish you had escaped the Evil Empire before they managed to enact their heinous beheading. Once they form an opinion of who they feel you are, the blade descends, albeit glacially.
Reading your account of events made something pretty clear to me. You have helped many and changed lives for the better. The experiences you shared show your desire to be a positive force, going the extra mile and a half.This eagerness for some folk can however be off-putting, as they are a superstitious and cowardly lot. Many times letting others actively seek a relationship or assistance negates the uneasiness of stranger danger.
I know you invested a ton of yourself in the library, and it seemed to respond with indifference. Try to remember the lives you enriched, and the people you touched (unfortunate phrasing) you may not even realize. I once had a staff member tell me I had helped him with homework when he was a kid in Gahanna, and that my being there inspired him to believe a black kid could work in the library. That man was Barack Obama.
I certainly understand how our fight for acceptance can get misconstrued, especially when an opinion has been formed at first glance. I grew up a chubby black kid, trying to make kids like me by making them laugh. That way they didn't focus so much on my tubbiness. As a broad generalization, I think many nerd types gravitate toward the library, sometimes with histories and backgrounds that indicate positions on the lower rung of the power scale.I have sometimes thought too many of these folk lash out at the least provocation, misconstruing then attacking passive-aggressively. Not a popular opinion to hold, especially today. Maybe I'm talking out my ass.
Bottom line, I think you have led a life mired in the beliefs of Truth, Justice, and the American Way. That works great until you add people to the mix. Ask most black folk about promise vs reality. When I think back on my career, I think of the cool people I worked with and the customers I liked and helped. Everything else really wasn't very important.
Most importantly, getting healthier is your most critical job. I left the library not aware fully how stress had affected me. I had developed sleep apnea and atrial fibrillation, along with some poundage. I would encourage you to try to get Medicaid to address your immediate health concerns. I know you are from the generation that hates asking for help, but you have paid into these services for years. I think you would be able to work in home health care, they always need reliable people. Just a thought.
You are good people (except for the Marvel fixation).
I know of a young woman who recently checked herself into a facility to treat her severe depression. She recovered enough to return to work, but now has big medical bills. A Go Fund Me account was set up for her with the hope that the kindness of strangers would help her pay those bills.
Maybe I should have done that instead of getting Medicaid and food stamps. Except I don't know how to do that, and I don't know how to overcome a lifetime of a lack of charisma--and you need to be at least a bit charismatic to bring strangers around to help you.
I look around at the world and I see a young woman who simply needs a bit of help to get her life back on track, and yet millions of people in MAGA nation blindly hand over their money to Donald Trump and his minions and all that money does is feed Trump's massive ego and extravagant lifestyle. No matter how often it is shown that all Trump does is take that money and run, his followers, suffering from some kind of massive psychosis, keep dumping their money into the hellmouth of Trumpworld.
I was kind, and decent, and friendly, and helpful to my library coworkers, but the nicer I was the more I was hated on. I loved my job at the library, but the library did not love me back. I am still reserving books for a married couple who are long time patrons of the library. You people at the library deemed me less than and unworthy. Once you decided I was a horrible, terrible, lousy, no-good person that was how all interactions with me were treated.
None of you ever protected me. None of you ever defended me. None of you ever believed me. None of you ever believed in me. I had no defense against such universal disdain, dishonor, disrespect, dishonesty, and discrimination. I was afraid when I came to work and I was afraid when I went home from work, because I knew I would be attacked again but I just didn’t know when. You twisted anything I said or did into the most negative judgement. Once you decided I was disposable it was easy for you to hurt me repeatedly and irrevocably. I never said or did anything that deserved the harshness and cruelty of ending my life.
I’m not able to overcome being a thrown away human. When you threw me away you left me with nothing. You took away my livelihood. You took away my pension. All you left me with is a long, slow, melancholy, impoverished death, which is taking its sweet time getting here.
I've read a lot of interviews with Lauren and other writers, and I like the depth you go into with your questions, it's more of a back and forth, and more enjoyable to read.
Thank you! I love doing them and lots more to come. Stay tuned.
This is fantastic all around and my crush on Lauren has grown yet again.
Wonderful, thoughtful questions and a great dialogue to read.
She’s just brilliant-- a true original. ❤️
This interview is soooo wonderfully in depth, I read it in small chunks & will read it more than once. I love how it closes - those relatives you think are “good people” are the ones you should be talking to, about their harmful beliefs, b/c those beliefs get played out in real time in ways that harm others. That’s systemic oppression.
Also so grateful for LH’s notes about how some childhood experiences can make every fight feel like a fight for one’s survival. I needed this reminder rn.
Also rescue dogs are so much & the fucking best. Love.
Thank you Sera. Lauren is such a force of nature, like a gunfighter with a pen. And I totally agree with you, her answer to that last question knocked the wind out of me. So moving, so I wise. gutting.
This was a fantastic interview. Really enjoyed reading this snuggled up on my couch last night. I also feel fortunate to have stumbled upon Lauren's book (and her Substack thereafter, and now your work through hers!)
I'm so happy to have introduced you to her work. She's astonishing, I think. One of the great American literary voices of her time.
I now have a daily ritual in perpetuity:
Self lymph massage in order to get the lymph glands to work better at getting fluid out of my legs and reabsorbed into the body or urinated out of the body. I do several deep breaths and exhalations trying to move my bellybutton in and out as far as the breath will take it, then I gently push the skin around rhythmically at my neck, armpits, groin, and legs. Then apply the healing anti-itch ointment to my legs. Then reapply the pressure wraps to my legs and feet. Get my feet up as much as I can and exercise my legs as much as I can. I'm working at getting my exercycle upstairs so I can ride it every day and maybe burn some calories so as to lose the weight I need to in order to get my knee replacement surgery. Too bad there aren't any pro bono(boner?) call girls who could help me with this.
Next up is a sleep study. My sleep is not great. Lying on the new bed is fine, but I just can't sleep well lying down like I used to. It might take awhile to get back my youthful sleeping groove. Part of the night lying in bed and part of the night sitting in a chair. I don't know if I'll ever have more than three hours in a row of sleep ever again. And I don't want to take sleep aids. I do get rest mostly due to lack of activity. If I had a job to do then I might exhaust myself daily and get more sleep. But finding something that would be sufferable after I get my body fixed might be undoable.
I guess I have to talk to the docs about those things nobody really wants to do but should after the age of 50--prostate exam and the colo-rectal cancer exam. Getting old has a certain lack of dignity, although I understand women spend their lives having exams for breast cancer and pap smears and such so I shouldn't complain. Let the magic begin. Plus I should see an actual dermatologist to have him check my naked body to see if the remnants of the cysts or lesions are cancerous or something, and if any of my skintags are infected or anything. Just never been a naked adult in front of anyone except once in college during a group strip poker party, and it was a cold fall day that day and playing foosball naked was probably not the best idea.
Well...
The author Piers Anthony writes a newsletter each month on his website.
He recently made the following observation about me:
"People seem to both trust and mistrust you almost impulsively."
The following is from his FeBlueberry 2022 newsletter:
"BS Foolsbane" sent me his memoir "Once Upon a Time at the Library." There are aspects of his life I relate to. I have gotten in trouble all my life for trying to be honest and decent and standing my ground rather than be wronged or cheated. The world can be an ugly place. I will call him Mike. He worked for years at a public library, doing the best he could, yet somehow things went wrong. For example the way he lost his job. A woman was using a staff computer, resting her right hand on the desktop next to the computer. Mike used the adjacent phone to call a teacher about a teacher's collection service that was ready to pick her up. He had a paper in his hand with the phone number. After he dialed and was waiting for the connection he lowered his hand and a corner of the paper brushed her hand. She rubbed her hand and said "Uh." Mike said "Must have felt like a spider." That was all. But she put in a complaint, and he got fired. How's that again? Did she think he was making a move on her? Did the library administration check for the facts before making such a decision? Was fairness even considered? But his job was gone. His career had been peppered with similar misunderstandings. But generally he got along with people, and they would tell him private things. One woman told him that she also worked at a prison, and men there would get raped, go to the infirmary, and have their rectums sewn up. Nobody got disciplined or fired there. A female coworker pulled down her pants to show Mike a tattoo or her upper thigh. Another told him she took a whore's bath. I don't know what that is, but it sounds pretty personal. A staff member thought it was funny to call Mike a pederast. Some joke! On occasion he complained to the administration about such things, but nothing was done. It seemed that complaints counted only if they were about him. One acquaintance spot diagnosed him with SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, and decided he was mentally ill. Ouch! As one who was similarly diagnosed and excluded on my insurance for all mental diseases, when what I actually had was low thyroid, I relate. When the manager told him to shelve a cart full of videos, and he did, then next day she told him he had disobeyed her and hadn't shelved them. If there was mental illness, it would seem to have been in that manager, but it degraded Mike's reputation. When he repeated to other staffers what a manager had told him, he got in trouble because it seemed it was a secret. When a circulation manager asked him to get her some information, and he did, he got in trouble for leaving his desk. When he complained about his treatment, his Performance Assessment was downgraded from Strong to Satisfactorily. When he wrote a formal complaint detailing his treatment he was told that if he felt he was being treated unfairly, he should quit the job. On and on; this is depressing reading showing a pattern of prejudice against him. Do I believe it? Yes. Remember, I'm the one who got blacklisted in publishing for six years, accumulating I think it was seven unpublished novels, because I had the temerity to protest when a publisher cheated me. It seems that all too often folk prefer to blame the victim rather than the perpetrator. Sometimes I am ashamed of my species, mankind. Yes, once the blacklist was broken and accounts became honest I became a bestseller at that same publisher. Therein lies a key difference between us: I got a remarkable break. Mike did not. But it shouldn't require a virtual miracle to get fair treatment. So where is Mike now? "My partial pension won't cover my bills [because he got fired before he qualified for more] so I'm going to have to find some part time job that I am physically capable of doing ... It's just that there aren't that many jobs for a 60 year old fat man with a bum knee." This is America? There's an odor."
Hey hey, The personal and detailed account of your time at CML you mailed... Wow. I got it Thursday and devoured it immediately. It just took me till now to process and respond
That is a powerful piece. So many poignant and sincere moments. Staying silent while getting yelled at during a co-worker's move in. Missing Betty's passing as you drove home. Being asked to leave the reference desk for a quick requested task and then reprimanded. Staying late to make sure someone stayed warm while they waited for their ride. Not being allowed to wear sweatpants... I mean the last 2 pages had me holding my breath.
A lot of it I do remember you telling me and chunks of it I had no idea. I know it might not feel like you have meaning or that it may seem like no one cares if you stay alive, but I personally DO hope you stick around. You have meant a lot to me my entire life and I'm sorgy that the dip-shits at the library made you feel less than the truly wonderful person that I and so many people already know to be true. Is there anything I can do to help? Or something I can create, or submit, or cry to heavens? I just don't like the idea of someone that has had such a positive effect on m bringing (and already an effect on Mars with his GIANT Teddy Bear) throwing up in his sleep or his body just waiting to be discovered. I wish I could transport myself and meet you again at AMC 6 to see independence Day or Gahanna 16 to see Jurassic Park for the 1st time, Midgard to drink Mountain Dew and play Dragon Wars, have a drink at the Blue Danube, or simply to sit and play X Men alert for the 1,001st time (I call Banshee) so I could convince you how much you mean to me. Stay sane and thank you for the detailed letter. -Phil
**As I was reading it I did think of this being translated into a graphic. Like American Splendor or I guess more specifically I wish it could be translated into a book by Eleanor Davis ( Who you introduced me to by the way along with countless others) i know she has a new one out, but I think she could really translate your writing into something visually profound.
I've been thinking about your letters the last two days a lot. And sorta wondering like what makes a life. And I don't have an answer to that. And no one does, I guess.
I don't plan on having kids, bio kids at least. Maybe one day down the line I'll adopt a few or whatever but don't really think it is part of my plan. I've had some relationships but nothing that was particularly meaningful yet. And I have no fucking clue if I will have one that others seem to think as meaningful. I know that freaks mom out and that pisses me off more than the singleness does actually. And i don't really like my job hahaha. Like maybe aspects of it. But can't say that I enjoy helping large companies out with their employee benefits. I might be getting my LLM cause I was always good at school, good enough. But that just means I'm going to be a lawyer for the rest of my life cause pile on more debt.
I enjoy the concerts I go to and the friends I've developed along the way and the volunteer activities I've gone to and yoga. Ive enjoyed alcohol so much that my liver doctor tells me I need to cut back or stop drinking (2 months sober!).
I can't say I am happy or whatever. I'm secure and that is good enough some days. It sorta seems like everyone I know is at least a little unhappy. And even on days that I think I'm a horrible human being incapable of love, I can't imagine wanting to switch places with anyone cause they seem miserable too.
And none of that hopefully comes off as me minimizing your pain or anything like that. Or it comes off as some rich lawyer whining. But I don't know. You've made an impact in my life and shaped my personality in little ways I can see everyday. And I can see in Phil's life. And I would guess josh and mel's life. And I see that as a beautiful accomplishment. Changing the lives of at least the four of us. Mostly cause I'm selfish and I'm defining your life based on how it has impacted my life hahahahaha.
And all of the people whose life you've seen at the very end. So many people have trusted you to be the person that they have around them in their last days and moments. I mean that might be one of the most beautiful things I've ever actually heard. And you're a stronger person than me or probably anyone I know for being able to do that with so many people. Maybe not in your vision of how you saw your life going, but that to me is a life lived.
I know that you are hurting and I wish I was able to say something to make the hurt go away. And a lot of people have hurt you and I'm sorry for that. Fuck them. But I'm sorry and I love you. And even if it is just through email and a visit once or twice a year, I'm always here for you as much as I can be and you def are always with me in intangible ways of my personality.
I'm rambling. With all that emotion and sappyness, I feel the need to be a sarcastic dick to counterbalance. Probably not the right time...
This is way overdue. I apologize that it's taken so long to respond to your memoir. I actually received it lastHalloween, and I immediately read through it. I've started a response before.
I think I've thought about your story everyday since I first read it.
I remember on my wedding day, and you said that the times with me, Melanie, Phil, and Matt were some of the best times of your life. I was truly humbled by that. I think about that often too.
Those were some of the greatest times of my life too. I miss those times. Carefree and just playing with Phil and Matt or going to the pool. Eating giant bars and drinking kool aid.
The thought actually struck me recently that without you, I would have seen Phil and Matt much less growing up. Sure, I would have seen them because my mom and Cherise are close, but I think of the mornings where you watched us all. I think of the summertimes where we all spent so much time together. You were a big part of the reason why that was possible.
You've influenced me in ways that I'm sure I don't even realize. In those early years, there weren't too many people I was around more than you. I know you were always able to think outside the box, not sweat the small things, stay patient and calm. I think those were always virtues you exemplified. I'd like to think that some of that rubbed off on me, because those are all qualities I admire.
I've talked about this with Phil before, but I think of some of the activities we did as kids. Many of which, I probably don't even fully remember, but some of our activities at the library, different craft outings like making sand art and sculptures. Eight millimeter films. I don't know if I would have really been exposed to those experiences without you. For that, I'm thankful that I had the chance to try new things.
I'm thankful for you. I'm thankful that I know you. I'm thankful that you played such a significant role in my life. You have always been and will always be very dear to me.
And I'm thankful that you shared your story and your experiences with me.
I hope Cherise, or Joe, or my grandma has mentioned this, but Kari and I are expecting. Baby Benner due in October. We're very excited, although I feeling like that's coming fast. And I can say that I truly hope that some of the things I've learned from you I will pass on to him (including the smell of flowers).
I think of you often.
How 'bout those Lions,
Mike I'm truthfully sorry that life has dealt you a shitty hand. I'm hurt that you have to go through this and more hurt that you feel like you are going through this alone. I know I haven't been around or tried to message and visit which as a friend that is my fault.
I had a chance to read your sad memoir and we never know what's going on in someone's life or how hurt and mistreated they have been. I knew there were some horrible things that happen to you at the library but I didn't see the extent it went because I was blinded.
We can only wish we can turn back time or wish we could of made that first move and life would be different but as you are aware that is not possible. There is nothing I can say to change the outcome of this horrible situation. Negative people will never understand the mind of a genius they can only fear it. YOU SIR ARE A GENIUS. A genius wrapped up in a bubble of love.
Mike I can't explain how much I'm annoyed by the lack of respect that the library has shown you and all I can say is fuck em. Also Fuck HR, fuck the managers and fuck your third grade teacher as well.
Listen I will never understand the mental and physical pain that you are in because it's not my path to complete. You are strong will person and if you believe that yourself you will flourish.
Now let's go to Applebee's tomorrow At 8 pm since I haven't seen you in a while. Stephanie and her kids will be there and I owe you both a drink.
Hi Mike, I'm not sure if you meant to post these comments here? It doesn't bother me but just wanted to alert you in case it was an accident. Hope you're well and thanks for reading.
My friend Betty:
In 2000 a woman came to the library and spoke with the manager. She knew the manager from her days at Hilltop and the manager invited her to start volunteering at Northern Lights. The woman's name was Betty. She had just lost her husband the year before and was happy to come volunteer. She was a great old lady with a sense of humor and fun stories to tell of her travels. She came once a week to volunteer and she stamped FOL books and restocked the FOL shelves in the lobby. When she had her 80th birthday in 2001 I got her 9 red roses—one for each decade she had lived and one to grow on. One day she called in sick and I asked her if she wanted me to bring her her reserves which had just come in. She agreed and I checked them out to her and took them to her house. In 2007 she was not feeling well and her doctor gave her a stress test and she had to go in for a double heart bypass. I visited her in the hospital and when she got transferred to a rehab facility I visited her there. Her son lived in Michigan and she had a stepdaughter who lived here but she was still working fulltime so she wouldn't be able to help Betty as much as she needed. Betty was talking about finding groups in Columbus who she could pay to do things for her, but I said why don't I do it. She agreed again. For 12 years I drove her to the grocery once a week, to the bank once a month, to her hairdresser once a week, to dozens of doctor appointments, to her cardiac exercise rehab. She still drove herself for some things but she eventually stopped driving altogether. I did odd jobs for her and helped her around her house and did so much else for her. She read voraciously and I reserved over 1,000 books for her. When ocular degeneration came she had to give up reading. We had over 500 lunches together. Her rehab nurses would ask her where she was going for lunch today and she'd say, "I don't know. Where ever Mike takes us—it's someplace new every time." The nurses would say how jealous they were that she got to go to lunch someplace new all the time. As she got older and sicker she needed more and more help. She passed away in early 2019 and I continued to help her and her son by clearing out her house and getting it ready for sale. I was sitting with her in the hospital the night she passed and she was sleeping and I didn't want to wake her up to just say hi. On my way home, she died. She was 97.
One of my coworkers amused herself a couple of times by joking that I was having sex with Betty. I just kind of shrugged it off but I did say to myself (sotto voce), "I wish you wouldn't say that."
There was another long-time customer of the library who passed away in 2019. He had a card shop in Gahanna and I had become friends with him there and he liked to read historical mysteries and I reserved hundreds of books for him. When he suddenly contracted cancer I would visit him at his home while he was undergoing treatment. And then I would sit with him and his family while he was in Hospice. I was unable to attend his funeral because I had to work that day. I loved reserving books for him and Betty.
Sorry to hear the Eye of Sauron finally cast its horrible eye fully upon your bearded punim. I wish you had escaped the Evil Empire before they managed to enact their heinous beheading. Once they form an opinion of who they feel you are, the blade descends, albeit glacially.
Reading your account of events made something pretty clear to me. You have helped many and changed lives for the better. The experiences you shared show your desire to be a positive force, going the extra mile and a half.This eagerness for some folk can however be off-putting, as they are a superstitious and cowardly lot. Many times letting others actively seek a relationship or assistance negates the uneasiness of stranger danger.
I know you invested a ton of yourself in the library, and it seemed to respond with indifference. Try to remember the lives you enriched, and the people you touched (unfortunate phrasing) you may not even realize. I once had a staff member tell me I had helped him with homework when he was a kid in Gahanna, and that my being there inspired him to believe a black kid could work in the library. That man was Barack Obama.
I certainly understand how our fight for acceptance can get misconstrued, especially when an opinion has been formed at first glance. I grew up a chubby black kid, trying to make kids like me by making them laugh. That way they didn't focus so much on my tubbiness. As a broad generalization, I think many nerd types gravitate toward the library, sometimes with histories and backgrounds that indicate positions on the lower rung of the power scale.I have sometimes thought too many of these folk lash out at the least provocation, misconstruing then attacking passive-aggressively. Not a popular opinion to hold, especially today. Maybe I'm talking out my ass.
Bottom line, I think you have led a life mired in the beliefs of Truth, Justice, and the American Way. That works great until you add people to the mix. Ask most black folk about promise vs reality. When I think back on my career, I think of the cool people I worked with and the customers I liked and helped. Everything else really wasn't very important.
Most importantly, getting healthier is your most critical job. I left the library not aware fully how stress had affected me. I had developed sleep apnea and atrial fibrillation, along with some poundage. I would encourage you to try to get Medicaid to address your immediate health concerns. I know you are from the generation that hates asking for help, but you have paid into these services for years. I think you would be able to work in home health care, they always need reliable people. Just a thought.
You are good people (except for the Marvel fixation).
I know of a young woman who recently checked herself into a facility to treat her severe depression. She recovered enough to return to work, but now has big medical bills. A Go Fund Me account was set up for her with the hope that the kindness of strangers would help her pay those bills.
Maybe I should have done that instead of getting Medicaid and food stamps. Except I don't know how to do that, and I don't know how to overcome a lifetime of a lack of charisma--and you need to be at least a bit charismatic to bring strangers around to help you.
I look around at the world and I see a young woman who simply needs a bit of help to get her life back on track, and yet millions of people in MAGA nation blindly hand over their money to Donald Trump and his minions and all that money does is feed Trump's massive ego and extravagant lifestyle. No matter how often it is shown that all Trump does is take that money and run, his followers, suffering from some kind of massive psychosis, keep dumping their money into the hellmouth of Trumpworld.
Aye Caramba!
Mr. Losinski, Mr. Ackerman, and Others,
Reflections on a Life Unlived
I was kind, and decent, and friendly, and helpful to my library coworkers, but the nicer I was the more I was hated on. I loved my job at the library, but the library did not love me back. I am still reserving books for a married couple who are long time patrons of the library. You people at the library deemed me less than and unworthy. Once you decided I was a horrible, terrible, lousy, no-good person that was how all interactions with me were treated.
None of you ever protected me. None of you ever defended me. None of you ever believed me. None of you ever believed in me. I had no defense against such universal disdain, dishonor, disrespect, dishonesty, and discrimination. I was afraid when I came to work and I was afraid when I went home from work, because I knew I would be attacked again but I just didn’t know when. You twisted anything I said or did into the most negative judgement. Once you decided I was disposable it was easy for you to hurt me repeatedly and irrevocably. I never said or did anything that deserved the harshness and cruelty of ending my life.
I’m not able to overcome being a thrown away human. When you threw me away you left me with nothing. You took away my livelihood. You took away my pension. All you left me with is a long, slow, melancholy, impoverished death, which is taking its sweet time getting here.
None of you ever had any grace for me.