Just Jeannie
by Yvonne Russell
I first met Jeannie when she was the library assistant on the mobile library bus, which trundled over the narrow country roads, vying for road space with timber trucks and milk tankers. In our small rural town, the weekly arrival of the mobile library bus was more than a library stop. It was a community gathering.
I was the school librarian, and I was there when the mobile library arrived, like clockwork every week. I selected books and said hello to people I knew. In the confines of the bus, we all moved around and past each other, like a well-orchestrated dance, where each knew the other’s moves. It was a well-practised ritual.
We chose our books from the plentiful selection on the shelves. These shelves had been set up in such a way, that the books would stay in place, as if by magic, even along the winding valley roads and sweeping corners.
But the real magic behind the whole operation was Jeannie. And the part of the ritual that everyone most looked forward to, was taking your books to the front of the bus, where Jeannie sat with her mop of blond hair, her ready smile and her infectious laugh. Jeannie was one of those people who light up a room, and in this case … a bus.
Women would give Jeannie recipes they’d chatted about, and update her on family happenings. It was like greeting an old friend. And Jeannie was always interested. She was a part of our small community, even though she only visited once a week. That was just Jeannie.
Wherever Jeannie was, people were happy. She radiated a sort of inner energy and put a skip into your step whenever you were around her. She seemed to know which customers wanted quick service and needed to go, and which ones wanted to linger for a chat. This was one queue you never minded waiting in, as you knew your turn would come. She deftly handled interlibrary loan requests, and marked out books.
Jeannie was a keen traveler, and over the years, in both the mobile library and the public library where Jeannie also worked, I saw Jeannie’s vacation photos. She knew when I had been on a trip, and always urged me to bring in my photos. If there were photos, people in the queue had to wait, and strangely enough, they didn’t seem to mind. Her infectious enthusiasm for life and people appeared to have a calming effect.
She seemed to turn up everywhere I went. I saw Jeannie at restaurants, and in shopping malls, and she would always come over to say hello. At a conference where I was a guest speaker, it was Jeannie who happened to have a camera, and made it her business to capture the moment, and send the photo to me.
Later, I moved on from that school, and no longer used the mobile library. I also now used a closer public library, so saw Jeannie less often. Years later, it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen Jeannie around for a while. I asked Jenny, a librarian colleague at the public library, “Do you ever hear from Jeannie?” She just looked at me, paused, and then said “ Jeannie passed away.” I was shell-shocked. Jeannie was only young. She was the epitome of “seize the day.” Jeannie had died of cancer.
As Jenny explained what had happened, I reflected on the brief moments I had spent with Jeannie. I also realised that I never knew her last name. It was always just Jeannie. We didn’t socialise. This was a professional relationship. But it was much more than that.
I echoed my thoughts out loud, and Jenny nodded knowingly. Apparently, all the library customers who heard the news, said exactly the same thing. Somehow, Jeannie had made every single person feel they were special. Fittingly, the regional library service now has an ongoing staff award in Jeannie’s name for outstanding customer service. Even new librarians and library staff who didn’t know Jeannie, know that this is not an award to be taken lightly. To win it is considered a real honor.
Now as a fulltime writer, I find that sometimes as I write, I think of Jeannie. In some ways, I think she does part time duty as my stand in muse, when my real muse has deserted me. She is there to give me a kick in the pants to keep going, to find another way around things, to never give up, and most of all to remember the joy in whatever I choose to do.
I was reminded of Jeannie after the funeral of a dear family member. The priest said the best way you can honor a person, and to keep their memory alive is to take one aspect you admired about that person’s nature, and to make that a living part of the way you live your own life.
Jeannie wouldn’t have let me give up. She would have been urging me on, with that big smile. She would have been my biggest cheerleader. I think I must have been meant to meet Jeannie. Strange, that someone whose last name I never knew could have such an impact on me. But I guess that’s just Jeannie.
*************************
Yvonne Russell is the Editor/Writer of BellaOnline Business Travel , All Info About Unusual Travel , and All Info About Tea & Coffee Lifestyle.
