19 December 2007

Bittersweet day...

My first official job here at the University was in the Stack Maintenance Unit of the main library -- I shelved books. When I first started, all the books were sorted in one central room on the 3rd floor then trucked out to all other floors for shelving. It had been done that way for a very long time; I know, because my Mother used to work in the same department and I used to come up on weekends to help sort the kids' books and wander around the library.

In the 1990s, the sorting was decentralized and each floor got its own sorting area, but third floor still used the large room, which frequently filled to capacity during peak return times.

A few years ago, there was another change, as a new return/sorting area was added in the basement (soon to be "lower level") of the library. From here, books are trucked to the other sorting areas before being shelved. But, the third floor sorting area was still fairly full just a couple of weeks ago.

Now it is empty and much of its shelving will be dismantled in coming days in preparation for demolition of the last remaining "inside" (i.e. behind locked doors) study carrels in the library. Some of the existing area used for the sorting room plus all of the study carrel area will be replaced with shelving to hold the music monographs when the music collection relocates to the new Media Commons on the main floor in February.

So, while I was happy that I got to take some photos of this soon-to-be-gone part of my past, it's a bittersweet happiness, as the photos will be all that will remain by the time I come back from the break in January.
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2 comments:

pastilla said...

As so often happens, I really *get* your posts about the bittersweet memories (esp. on campus).

(My dad started off in "N" hut which they tore down before the Commonwealth Games).

Carmi said...

I know that in the end, they're just walls; inanimate objects that in and of themselves don't mean a whole lot. But they serve as places where important memories are made, and when they disappear, they seem to take a piece of us with them.

I'm so glad you had the chance to photograph this place and commit your memories to your blog. You've ensure that in one form or another, this place remains a part of you.

And by extension, those who read you.