Like Northern Elms, Parkdale is a high-needs branch whose surrounding community – a word that really means something here – would collapse if it closed. Just the clientele ranges from street homeless to the working poor barely housed in Jameson high-rises to Gaysian intellectual artiste types studing Marina Abranović books.
One day I handed an eldergay librarian a Mary Tyler Moore DVD because its donut RFID tag was coming unglued. I told him it needs a StingRay, and he said “Yup. It does” as though he heard that thing a hundred times a day. (Then he ran the package to the back room to get it fixed.) Nor was this guy weirded out when I turned in a lone Polish book intermingled with the French, which basically is the kind of thing only I would notice or give a shit about.
These people can handle anything.