2006

So here's my 12 year old son, Max, talking on our cordless telephone to his sister, Maddy. She's calling from Germany.

He's also online, engaged in an Instant Message session, complete with video, with his friend, also named Max. This other Max is also a tween, only he lives in London. The two Maxes met on youtube.com, where both of them post their homemade claymation videos.

Back in 1992, I reprised a column I'd written even earlier. I find that I still don't have much to add. So here it is again. Happy holidays!

What we really need is an all-purpose gift that will satisfy everybody. It should be suitable for all ages. It should require no assembly. It shouldn't need batteries. You shouldn't have to feed it. It should last forever. It should be constantly entertaining. The more the recipient uses it, the more he or she should like it.

And of course, it should be free.

A couple of weeks ago, the American Library Association flew me out to Washington, D.C. to participate in "setting a national agenda for public libraries."

To some people, an "agenda" has sinister overtones. Our enemies have agendas; our friends just have plans.

But the idea of a "national agenda" does have political overtones, particularly when held in our nation's capital.

So what kinds of things are librarians wanting to push?

I think most folks would be pleased. I hope so.

I'm sure people are tired of hearing about the elections. But I have two things I'd like to share.

First, a lot of Colorado libraries went to the voters this November. And by and large, they did very well.

Successful library issues (usually, increases in funding to build or renovate libraries) were approved in:

• Adams County
• Basalt
• Berthoud
• Dolores
• Durango
• Fort Collins
• Garfield County
• Florence

I'm at a point in my life where "stuff" is starting to catch up with me.

On the one hand, there are boxes. I'm not just talking clothes, but those mysterious boxes that somehow survived three moves and ten years in the basement. Many of them are books, of course.

Some of those boxes are stuffed with my own writings. I have notebooks, I kid you not, from 6th grade. I have a couple of my incredibly naive and amateurish attempts at novels from high school. I do not, I promise you, spend my evenings reviewing this debris.

It's a marvel to most adults that we made it this far. At least, I know some of the chances I took as a young adult might well have killed me.

The field of brain development research continues to shed light on all facets of human life. And what we've learned, at least about teenagers, borders on the insulting. Or does it?

In brief, it comes down to this: teenagers have a high predilection for risky business, coupled with a really startling lack of judgment.

Jamie LaRue is on vacation. This week's column is written by Art Glover, Human Resources Manager for Douglas County Libraries.

"How do you feel about public employment verses private employment?"

It is a question I have been asked many times since I began working for the Douglas County Libraries as the district's Human Resources Manager.

Often, the question is delivered with a knowing wink. I imagine they are thinking, "Surely you must be happier now!" And generally, I would say they are correct.

My wife, son and I have just returned from a trip to Europe. It was part family vacation, and part a sobering task: dropping off our daughter at university in Germany.

Our first stop was London, where we'd rented a room at a bed and breakfast. We did some touristy things: a trip to the enormous Ferris Wheel of the London Eye, the Globe Theatre, the British Museum, an Aquarium by the Thames. But mostly, we did a lot of walking.

[Disclaimer: please note that these are "LaRue's Views;" I am, it would not surprise me to learn, speaking for no one else.]

At the end of my last column, I talked about hearing, in London, from our Kurdish taxi driver about Saddam Hussein's devastatingly anti-Kurd regime. Our driver was frankly grateful for the United States' invasion of Iraq. However, he had no intention of returning, other than as a visitor, to his birthplace. He described it as backward and dangerous -- no place to rear your children.

I started keeping my first journal in 5th or 6th grade. My mother got it for me one Christmas.

It had a soft, burgundy-colored leather cover, and paper that was slightly yellow. There was only one page per day. At the top of the page, I was encouraged to record the weather, and my general health. Then I got a blank page.

So I kept a daily log of my life -- and my thoughts about it -- for about two years. I kept one again my senior year of high school, my last couple of years of college, and on and off ever since.