Somebody at the table brought up the subject of libraries, and I, of course, had a thing to say about that.

“The day is coming,” I opined, “when parents will be telling their kids, ‘You know, once upon a time libraries were places where people went to borrow books, not homeless shelters and day care centers.’”

I don’t know how impressed my friends were by this insight-slash-prophecy. How many things are there around us that started out as one thing and ended up as something else entirely? The theater began with morality plays during church festivals. Nascar began (I am informed) with bootleggers racing revenuers during Prohibition. Nokia started out as a wood pulp processing company in Finland.

There’s a group of my high school classmates – those who still live in the area, and who still live at all – who get together for lunch someplace every few months. This last Wednesday we went to the “new” restaurant in Kenyon, our home town – new in terms of management, though two previous owners have occupied the same commercial space. I might as well plug them – the manager was nice enough to send one of his staff up on a ladder to hang a shade to block the too-bright sunshine coming in through the south-facing windows. The place is called “Cahill’s,” which strikes me as an odd name for a Mexican fusion restaurant. But they were able to provide the stodgy anglo hamburger I required (really quite good). Also they had cloth napkins on the tables – I wonder how long it’s been since any eatery in Kenyon has boasted cloth napkins.

The conversation ran along customary retirees’ lines – where people take their vacations, how their kids and grandkids are doing (I had nothing to offer on that score), and our aches, pains, and medical procedures; I thought I had the prize for the most recent surgery, with my detached retina, but one of the “girls” had shoulder surgery just about simultaneously.

Afterward I filled up my gas tank (I like to support the local economy) at the Co-op gas station where my dad was a member, and headed back, past buildings that used to be something else, or the ghosts of buildings no longer standing. I had realized shortly after setting out that morning that I probably shouldn’t have gone at all – my left eye is still fuzzy; reading signs was a challenge, though I pretty much know the way without sign-reading. And the ride back was better; the sun was brighter and I remembered that I can see more clearly if I just close that bad eye.

Arrived home utterly exhausted from the rigorous exertion of ordinary human interaction; I was played out for the rest of the day.