Recently in General Category

Five years ago, I wrote a book.  Originally titled "Strange Bedfellow," this work on the relationships between libraries, vendors, and dot-com entities was re-titled The Ultimate Digital Library: Where the New Information Players Meet.  Some of the better parts of that book seemed so radical then and look entirely passe now.  It's hard to believe it's been five years since it came out, but where was I supposed to go from "Ultimate?"  The More Ultimate Digital Library?

I was actually looking to see if I could pick up some used copies since I have given all but one of mine away, when I was pleased to see that I had joined the ranks of Wikipedia, albeit in an unusual way.  My Wikipedia entry mentions my book, but apparently has me confused with a professor of artificial intelligence at U. Penn.  The cite for Dr. Pace's book came from Google Book Search.  I could not help but note the irony that I have been mashed up in cyberspace by a combination of Wikipedia and Google.

Some of the more famous entries in WorldCat Identities have links out to Wikipedia.  It occurs to me now that Wikipedia could use some links in the other direction for us much less famous.

You won't find it hard to believe that I am an extrovert (ESTJ for all you Myers-Briggs people out there).  Over the last several years I have tried to build a vast array of personal and professional contact, not because I am just an obsessive-compulsive networker (which I am), but because I sincerely enjoy getting to know librarians, vendors, service providers, and various hangers-on of the library world. 

Knowing others well has always served me better than being well known.

But how much is enough?  I find myself needing a social networking strategy.  What seems to have started as an implicit popularity contest--how many friends, how many followers, how many degrees of separation--has turned into an overwhelming array of networking opportunities.

So I do have a bit of a strategy that is likely similar to others':

Facebook: Come one, come all.  "Friend" no longer means what it use to and any friend of a friend is a friend of mine.  But frankly, I don't care too much if you would spend a million dollars the same way I would, and should I care which Indiana Jones character you would be?  I use Facebook for communication and for (surprise, surprise) seeing what people's faces look like.  When I'm ready to thin out my garage of friends, I will likely start with those who don't want me to know what they look like. Facebook, people...come on!

LinkedIn: Here, I am selective.  If I don't know  who you are, haven't shook your hand, talked to you, IMed extensively with you, eaten or drunk with you, then I'm not likely to link to you.  Add to that some assurance that I won't be embarrassed by a connection anytime soon--harder to guarantee, even for the people who add me to their network.

Twitter: Sorry.  I don't get it.  I don't like it.  Don't look for me there much longer. It's hard enough for me to keep track of what I am doing.  I simply don't have the time or inclination to tell everyone else. 

Add to this : LibraryThing, StumbleUpon, Twine, Plaxo Plus, Iminta, etc., etc.  How many more of these must I really sign up for? For now, I will stick to Facebook and LinkedIn and continue to employ my current strategy.  Everyone else I want to keep up with has my email, IM, or phone number.  Someone nudge me when there is a clear winner in the aggregation of social networks.

I had the great honor to return to my library school alma mater last week to give 18th Annual Elizabeth Stone lecture at The Catholic University of America.  It was an opportunity to talk about myself (which is always easy) and to talk about the future of libraries (which is always hard).  I was a bit embarrassed to admit that it was my first time back to CUA, but I was suitably punished by the fact that they recorded the talk.

I was quite graciously received by the CUA faculty (which now only includes one member from my time there from 1994-1996), students, and fellow alumni.  It was difficult to see firsthand that the Library and Information Science Library where I worked for two years had been dismantled in preparation for a new information commons space.  A plant had taken the spot where my desk once stood...a desk that held the IBM 286 on which I created my very first website in early 1995.

I regret having taken so long to return, but the occasion of the lecture was a great way to come back.  Elizabeth Stone was still hanging around as Dean Emerita in old Marist Hall when I was there.  She seemed omnipresent, in fact, and she was one of the few faculty to actually use the library (which is probably why it got absorbed into the main library).  I'll admit to not ever speaking very highly of my library education, but as I reflected on my time there and the faculty who taught me, I suddenly had a new perspective. 

Each of them, including ones I never even had classes with, had some impact on my career and the way I think about librarianship.  Dr. Hsieh Yee taught me to love cataloging (something I will blog about another time); J.W. Coffman (my advisor, who I learned passed away recently) taught me that the separation of theory and practice was not as wide as many perceive it; Barry Wheeler taught me to question all technological assumptions; Paul Koda taught me never to take myself or the profession too seriously. 

I received kudos for the lecture, which included a lot of stuff I have said in other venues.  But frankly, I am grateful to CUA for inviting me back because it made me reflect on the last decade plus in a way that I would not have otherwise.

My very first professional writing gig was with Computers in Libraries.  A patient and wonderful editor named Kathy Dempsey took a chance on an opinionated upstart who had just barely worked in libraries, having recently come from the dark side (that is from a vendor, not as some might think, from California or D.C., the two domiciles that preceded North Carolina).

I told her I had an idea for a new column and that I was calling it "First Principles," the notion being that there is nothing new under the sun, and that approaching technology from the starting point of the library science's first principles would create better services. I have a vivid memory of standing on my back porch trying to explain this idea on the phone to a more than patient Kathy.  The polite silence and occasion hem-and-haw on the other end of the phone made me think I had blown my chances of ever seeing my name in print--I was sure I had lost the job before I had typed my first word.  Thankfully, my somewhat obtuse notion for a column, with Kathy's help, turned into a pretty nice run as "Coming Full Circle."

So here I am, glutton for punishment, returning to first principles again. The last thing I want to do in my new job with OCLC is to give the impression that I have too much time on my hands, but I will admit to having spent some time a couple of weeks ago with the papers of Fred Kilgour.  Wow. Here's what his report, co-authored with Ralph Parker, in 1965 said about the purpose of what would become OCLC two years later:

1. Fast, complete bibliographic information retrieval
2. On-line acquisition of machine-readable catalogue records from the Library of Congress
3. Machine searching of machine-readable indexes such as those produced by MEDLARS and Chemical Abstracts
4. Supplying bibliographic information for acquisition procedures
5. Provision of central, real-time computer services for processing serials and circulation records

By 1983, the list had been modified and simplified:

1. Shared cataloging and online union catalog
2. Interlibrary lending
3. Acquisitions
4. Serials Control
5. Public service including online local catalogs
6. Circulation control

So here I am thinking that maybe I can bring some new contribution to the OCLC network, only to realize that I am trying to help deliver on Fred Kilgour's vision from over 40 years ago.

First Principles indeed.