Hubby was telling me about a girl he knew in high school who was from one of the Nigerian noble families, and she hated everyone who didn't look exactly like her. She adopted Hubby as "I need a person to talk to who has a brain and doesn't make me want to slap them every second, you're it." Apparently more than once one of the local blacks would call her "sister", and she would slug them as hard as she could and go off on a tirade about half-breeds and such. And then Hubby--damn, I wish I'd seen him when he was 17 and working out with the male gymnasts all the time--would step in to keep her from being hit back. He said she was the most racist person he ever met, but she at least despised most everyone and he wishes he could see her talk to some of the white supremacists.

Can an eleven year-old even get a library card without a parent to sign for it?

When Ben got his library card (maybe he was first or second grade, I can't even remember), I took all three kids down and got them cards. Julia and Chris were probably toddlers or just out of toddlerhood, so I must have signed, even though they were all like, "I have my rights!"

I pay the fricking bill when they lose the books, I'll tell you what.

Is this some sort of library code (perhaps in response to the intrusive Patriot Act) or is it a legal right, or what?

The ALA says (in its recommendations for developing privacy policies):

Librarians should not breach a minor's confidentiality by giving out information readily available to the parent from the minor directly. Libraries should take great care to limit the extenuating circumstances in which they release such information.

eta: And while minors do not have the same privacy rights as adults, they do have some rights to privacy. Where the lines are varies from state to state.

Is this some sort of library code (perhaps in response to the intrusive Patriot Act) or is it a legal right, or what?

She had no way of knowing who you were. For all she knows, you were a crazy visiting relative.

Bless her. The fact that the library didn't care what I checked out and my parents didn't pay attention probably preserved whatever dregs of sanity I have. If someone had told my dad what I was checking out, there would have been one more round of him screaming at me. It could have been a perfectly innocuous book that he decided was a waste of time.

maybe the material of the chair makes his trousers pill, or maybe it itches him through the fabric of trousers?

He's in jeans. And he carefully adjusted the towel before he sat down this morning, so he's still paying attention to it.

a girl he knew in high school who was from one of the Nigerian noble families, and she hated everyone who didn't look exactly like her

I have a cousin who hates Nigerians because she thinks they're the only black people whose superiority complex tops the Jamaican one. And the last thing she wants is her sense of superiority topped. Which takes some doing. I don't know enough Nigerians to have a sense of their national identity in that way, but I'm pretty unlikely to agree with her. There is a big culture divide, and I bristle when black Americans call me sister, or when anyone calls me African-American. It's just not that simple.

While it might be annoying, I think it's good. A kid can check out a book on human sexuality and a parent doesn't need to know (esp. if the parent doesn't think it's a topic s/he worth talking about).

If someone had told my dad what I was checking out, there would have been one more round of him screaming at me. It could have been a perfectly innocuous book that he decided was a waste of time.

That's a good point.

Whew! Maybe it's not his SQL after all. Further investigation shows some discrepancy between data that should be the same in two different schemas. That's a much shorter conversation, and one I can illustrate easily.

Hee. I remember trying to check out stuff from the Adult section (not like XXXAdult, just not from the Kids section) and the librarian refused to do it -- I was 7 or so. My mom was all "WTF? She can check out whatever the hell she wants!"

She got my kiddo book limit upped to - there was a 3 book max if you were a certain age, and Mom was all "We live in the country. She will be done with 3 books in 2 hours. Do you see the grocery sack I brought? Please, give her as many as she wants."

Bless my mom and dad. Daddy also defended my book rights. One day in 6th grade -- after I was done with my schoolwork, I might add -- my teacher "caught" me reading a book. It was -- gasp!- a Silhouette Desire. Remember, with the flaming red COVERS OF SIN?

She marched me down to the principal's office, and called my parents. Innappropriate, unsuitable, porn OMFG in the classroom!

Daddy was home sick, which happened like once every 5 years. Heh. He came down like the logical wrath of god on her head. "Was she done with her work?"

"Er..yes. But this book is just --"

"Are you telling me what I should or should not allow my child to read?"

"Um, well, but in the classroom, this..."

"WE are the ones who make the decisions regarding what Erin is capable of reading. WE have discussed material in books with her. WE decide what she can or cannot read. And WE have decided she is capable of reading this book."

Bless him, I think he would have done the same thing if I had been reading "A Child's Guide to Porn -- Find Out How!" He was pissed.

I got home, and he looked at the book in question ("The Cowboy Zillionaire's Secret Baby Mama Virgin Bride" or some such), snorted, and lumbered over to the bookshelf, picked out the bodice-ripper with the most lurid, pornoriffic cover, and told me to take that book to school tomorrow.

There are reasons I adore my father.

I've never said this before, but Erin's dad is awesome!