I have long been fascinated by DNA Lounge in San Francisco, mostly because its genesis and operation are so well-documented online. It likely ranks as the place I know the most about but am least likely to ever visit (for reasons of both geography and demographic).

The place has been going through an existential crisis of late, trying to establish itself on a financial footing that doesn’t require its generous patron-founder. And so they have been casting about for new ideas to bring people in the door:

We’ve also been brainstorming about what other similar pop culture parade we could get in front of. I think the sweet spot might be “I was into it when I was 12, and it’s still popular today, so the ‘sexy costume’ version of it makes me feel all funny inside.”

Nostalgia seems to be the rule of the day. Stranger Things. Fuller House. Gilmore Girls. World-ending grief outpourings as music and film stars of the 1970s and 1980s die. Pinball. Vinyl. Four-colour pens.

Lord knows that I can wallow in it myself, pining for the good old days of Live from the Formosa Tea House and CA*Net.

My wise old friend—nostalgia, yes—Ken Hone once said that as soon as something had a history it was time to jettison it and move on to something new. He was talking about progressive movements, but I think the idea has broader application.

As Oliver will attest, not a day goes by when I don’t make passing reference to “back in the 70s,” either seriously or in jest. Perhaps this should be the year that I stop doing that, stop wearing the sexy costume version of my younger days and looking forward into the abyss.

Ethan the Dog has not been getting enough exercise this week because our back yard is one giant ice rink. So I thought I would take him out to the dog park behind the PEI Humane Society for a good run this afternoon.

Except that the dog park was also one giant ice rink, and so was closed. Which we only found out once we’d driven out there.

To save the afternoon, we decided to go to the movies instead, to see A Dog’s Purpose, the latest Lasse Hallström film.

So instead of a good run in the winter sun, Ethan got to lie on the floor of theatre four, confused by an hour and forty minutes of dogs he could hear but not smell.

To boot, the main human character in the movie was named Ethan, so for much of that hour and forty minutes he was also hearing his name called out from the screen.

We owe you one, boy.

Ryerson librarian Jane Schmidt wrote last year about Little Free Libraries in an essay The Trouble with Twee that I found recently via William Denton.

It is a lovely piece of library advocacy that cuts to the heart of the fallacy that these “libraries,”  popping up across the countryside, should universally revered, which is tantamount to canon law inside the literacy movement. She concludes:

Do you really just want to share your old books and meet your neighbours? That’s fine – start a book exchange, but please don’t call it a library. Are you a teacher and want to use it as a class project? Fabulous idea, but please ensure advocacy for the public library is part of that learning module. Do you really want to ensure that there is equitable access to reading material and support literacy in your neighbourhood? Maybe your energy is best directed supporting the local public library or grassroots advocacy for universal daycare.

There are many ways to build community – a box of books is one of them, to be sure, but there’s more to the story than appears.

Contrast her words to the mission statement for Reading Town PEI’s little library project:

Reading Town PEI’s Tiny Lending Library legacy project promotes literacy and the love of reading by building free book exchanges, little houses for books, that are then adopted into communities across PEI. Tiny lending libraries will be adopted into communities from one tip of the Island to the other, each will celebrate reading and promote curbside literacy through community book sharing.

These little community magnets foster a reading culture in whatever neighbourhood they are adopted into. The libraries encourage the development of sharing networks and support universal access to a diversity of literature.

I’ve benefited twice–once when I was about to get on a train in Vermont and once over Christmas when I found a spy thriller in the box pictured below near my in-laws in Napanee–from the presence of Little Free Libraries. And I’ve done what I can to encourage their development here in Charlottetown. But Schmidt makes a strong case for the notion that, by investing efforts in these twee projects, we’re taking our collective eyes off the important ball, which is the nurturing of real public libraries, the continued existence of which is always in some doubt.

One Saturday in October I was charged with being chaperone for Chef Tony Geraci as he made his way around Charlottetown meeting people and talking about school food for the PEI Home and School Federation.

It was a rainy Saturday, and I was concerned that the rain would continue all day, so I brought umbrellas for us.

At the Charlottetown Farmer’s Market, I asked Tony if he wanted one.

“No, that’s okay,” he said, “I’ve got a jacket with a hood.”

It had never occurred to me, until that moment, that a jacket with a hood provided the same service as an umbrella.

But, thinking about it, with the possible exception of some additional trouser protection that a big umbrella might provide, I realized Tony was right: what do you need with an umbrella when you have a hood.

This may seem like an insignificant little realization, but it was one of the most important things I learned last year.

Chinese New Year’s supper at 100 Prince Street: homemade dumplings (made with the help of Oliver’s new dumpling cube) and sticky rice, with pineapple cake for dessert.

鸡年吉祥

Oliver at his usual Saturday morning spot at the market, reading Salty.

In development: an Amazon Alexa skill that delivers information about electricity load, generation and peak on Prince Edward Island.

Spotted earlier in the week on a clear winter day.

It’s unseasonably warm this January in Charlottetown. Or, rather, unseasonably warm, then cold, then warm, then cold. Today is warm. Or warmish. And it is raining. Hard. Here’s the sound I hear in my office of the rain hitting the side of The Guild.