White Library Card

This is what I found in the back of my desk today. I think I was looking for a pen or a screwdriver, neither of which I found. But in a sentimental way, this is way better.

I suppose I play the role of book-dork more than I actually live it. I'm a literature major who doesn't really like reading. Actually that's not true. I like reading. I just like other things - Ultimate Frisbee, video games, reading about politics, procrastinating on school work - more than I do reading. In any case, this library card is sentimental not because I go to the library much, or because I used to go there a lot, or anything in the "fond memory" genre at all. The library card is important because its white.

The Durham County Public Library stopped using white library cards in like 1990. I'm sure if you tried you could dig up the "inside scoop" as it were, about why the switch was made. And I'm sure whatever the reason for the transition, it's an absolutely fascinating thing to learn about. So fascinating I'm not sure I could handle it.

Anyhow, after the switch was made, I was initially jealous. The brown cards were new. Mine was old and obsolete. My brothers both got brown ones. But as the years wore on, I guess "retro" entered the scene or whatever, and suddenly the white card was a mark of pride. I was even offered a new one once given that my card is cracked in about 30 different places and threatens to break in half whenever its flexed. The barcode on the back has been replaced twice because it got so worn out the scanner couldn't read it.

I'd like to say this came from use - all the millions of times I checked out books to learn things and whatever, but the truth is it just came from neglect. Leaving a card in my wallet and sitting on it just wore it out. This could be a genetic thing. My dad's Duke ID goes through various states of disrepair, and has even been cracked it half (while the magnetic scanner still worked...) with his credit cards in a similar state of absolute ruin. So you can probably add "Poor maintenance of wallet contents" to the traits of the Lithuanian race, along with "speeding up at yellow lights" and "accumulating useless and cheap little wood carvings."

What's special about this little piece of plastic bearing my mom's signature of my name isn't really the color of the card so much as a pretend history thats associated with it. I like to imagine the librarian is impressed - or that they would be, were I to ever go to the Durham library anymore - when I pull out my white card that makes me a de facto long-timer of Durham.

(Anyone who takes this as a metaphor for race is stretching things way out of proportion.)