The meme featured a photograph of a wooden card catalog and the words "This is how old I am."
Alas, I could relate.
The card catalog and I have a long history. I was a school librarian for 32 years, and the card catalog was in use at the beginning of my tenure. But I’d been a library user since age five. I knew the card catalog long before it became a professional tool of the trade for me.
I’d use my experience while teaching research skills to middle and high school students. I’d tell them about the laborious process of going to the Fall River (Mass.) Public LIbrary when I was a teenager.
First, I had to get to the city from my suburban home, via bus. It was a walk to the library from the terminal, then up a lot of stairs. In the reference room’s card catalog I’d locate a few books that looked like they’d be helpful and write their call numbers on little sheets of papers. These I would hand to the librarian.
She’d (they were always women) hand them off to a “runner,” who would go into the closed stacks to retrieve the items. I’d wait anxiously, not knowing if these books were going to suit my needs. My greatest fear was that they would be on brittle paper, in tiny print, with absolutely no illustrations.
Finally the books would arrive and I would examine them. If I was lucky, they suited my needs and I could check them out and go home. Or better yet, go for lunch at a joint improbably named Jock’s Spaghetti-an. If not, it was back to the card catalog for me.
All this palaver was a reminder to the young folk that gathering information today is much easier—the hard work is sorting the wheat from the chaff.
I love the card catalog both in theory and as a physical entity; I have several vintage models I use for storage in my home. I have kept discarded catalog cards that I use for bookmarks or notes.
This is not to say I want to return to the days when the card catalog ruled. The digital world is a boon for both librarians and bibliophiles.
I’m still not sure how I managed to organize classes of antsy 11-year-olds, who all needed to find the books for their reports on ancient Egyptians at the same time. The middle school library was small and I knew the collection well, but they were supposed to practice using the card catalog—the single card catalog.
Little did I know that in a few years they’d all have their own laptops.
The computer was not an alien concept to me in 1990. My first job after graduating from college in 1978 involved using a Wang desktop model. As a journalist, I’d written my stories and columns on computers. The middle school library, indeed, had two Apple IIs.
But in those pre-internet days, students only used computers for practicing keyboard skills or playing educational games like “The Oregon Trail.” I could barely imagine software that would allow me to check books in and out, catalog them, connect me and my students to other libraries—and replace the card catalog with a digital version.
Eventually this all came to pass, and made my job easier and my reading life richer.
Nowadays I enjoy reading reviews and making lists of books I want to read. Then I can reserve them through the statewide Minerva consortium. Books can be placed on hold even when they’re on order, and haven’t even arrived in the library. That is a serious reader’s dream come true. There are sometimes a hundred people waiting to read a popular title, so it pays to stay on top of what’s coming out.
I can browse the catalog of my local library, Lithgow, or the holdings of all the consortium members, online.
This can lead, I must admit, to what I tried to warn my students about: an abundance of riches. In their case, it was an overload of information to wade through. For me, it’s four books to pick up at the same time. When I reserved them, they were on order or there were three patrons ahead of me. It seemed safe to reserve all four. But suddenly (probably because several other libraries bought copies in the meantime), there they were, waiting for me.
I am working on my supply flow issue, but I’m not optimistic I can change my ways. I do like to always have my next book ready to read.
And I do love the way I can plan and organize my reading with the aid of online resources. But—yet—I am glad I didn’t have that convenience as a teenager.
Taking the bus into the city, finding my way to the library, dealing with unfamiliar adults, interacting with or just observing a wide variety of people in the library—it was a valuable experience for me. I was shy, awkward and anxious. It took books and the quest for knowledge to jolt me out of my comfort zone.
I daresay my research adventures helped me become the person I am today.
Hey, maybe being “card catalog vintage” isn’t so bad after all.
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