The community of the Reference Room

As a young man, staring out from an old scull I sometimes catch my reflection and its scary !!  
Its not the reflection of the shaving mirror I'm used to that, somehow with that reflection, I contrive to believe that my looks are still attractive, there is a twinkle in the eye and of course the years have brought a sense of satisfaction, endowed as I am, with a tale or two to tell.  
No its that "other face" caught unaware, not yet ready, introspective, perhaps unsure.

How we grow into  the later image of our parents. I am my Dad, caught at a time when he was probably troubled by nagging doubt, a twinge of pain that kept recurring, a little unsteady on his feet, perhaps a touch of blood pressure. He must also have considered the future and what it held, not in a maudlin way but as a practical summation of the situation and the issues, getting old brings. Its only a fleeting moment but it reveals more of the truth than the concoction we contrive to project to others.

My Dad was in his late 30s when I came along so we never had that close, "elder bother" link that some father son relationships have. I was doing "kid" things and he was busy doing "dad" things.
He was academic in outlook, head in a book or a quality news paper, ear cocked to a piece of serious music. 
He used to take me to the Reference Library and I would sit and contemplate this world of hushed silence and musty filing systems. The people who used to use the reference room, a large space lined with books, big solid ornate tables and noisy chairs, were from across the social spectrum. Many were students escaping from the noise and disturbance of their family home, others, people perhaps in business who wished to look up a tax problem. There were the lovers of books and the written word for whom a day out amongst the tomes of history, geography,and science were as a day to the races is to a gambling man.
Then there were the men of no fixed abode. They came off the street for a place to find some warmth and a little rest.   Some were well read, they had the time and their education, not formal, was spread across every subject under the sun. The only draw back, given their limited means,  they smelt of yesterday.

I mentioned the filing system. A card for every book kept, in logical sequence, devised for and by the Librarian. The holy grail that made everything accessible. There was a logic and a trail to follow, the sections and subsections led to a request form to be filled in and handed over the enormous desk behind which the librarian and his team sitting waiting. On receipt they would to scurry off with your piece of paper, into the bowels of that part of the library where the bulk of the books were kept.  If it was a project and needed many points of reference it needed many books and the reason for the stout tables was plain, as book upon book was delivered.

Today we have at our fingertip every book every piece of reference material, gathered and sorted by our friend "Google". We are led with highlighted links into pathways we could never imagine, sub plots of knowledge, the events and the people who made the events happen. I had only asked for X but was treated to Y & Z for a better perspective. Its marvellous, but I do miss the community of the Reference Room.