Twelve Angry Librarians

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I glanced at the header of the document. “Southern Academic Library Association. I’ve heard some of the other librarians talk about it.” I shrugged. “I had my fill of library meetings from my days in the public library system in Houston. The Texas Library Association Annual Conference is about the largest of its kind in the country, and I went to over twenty of them. I thought I was done with them when I moved back here.”

“Stop trying to sound so dang pathetic.” Melba cocked her head to the right and frowned at me. I knew that look. No more whining, or she’d get really testy with me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said in a pert tone. Diesel chirped, and Melba’s expression relaxed into a grin.

“At least you’ve only got a couple days to worry about what you’re going to say, with everything starting on Thursday.”

I forbore to comment. I skimmed through the schedule. After an opening reception Thursday evening, the conference ran from Friday morning through Sunday at noon. I spotted several names I recognized. People I’d gone to library school with nearly thirty years before. We hadn’t kept in touch, but I figured it might be interesting to see them again.

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