Friday, June 27, 2014

Brutus & the Gnome

Brutus encourages everyone to complete and turn in their scavenger hunt answer sheets by 9 p.m. on Monday, June 30th.  A gnome has been visiting the Owosso Branch, and those with the most correct answers to his locations will be entered into a drawing to win the gnome.  Pictures & answer sheets are available on the library's Facebook page or at the circulation desk in Owosso's adult department.  Brutus is hoping to find a good home for the gnome; the gnome has enjoyed his visit, but is looking for a good family to call his own.  Brutus has had fun, though, sniffing out the gnome's hiding places in the library, and hopes that you are as successful as he was.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Casey at the Bat Day


 
June 3rd is Mighty Casey Struck
Out Day so Brutus is enjoying
 our summer weather by playing
 catch.  Unfortunately, he had 
to be told to take the ball 
outdoors before someone (or 
something in the library
is hurt.
 
Lots of fun is being planned
at the library this summer. 
Right now the 100 Years, 100 
Reads Challenge is going on 
as well as a Catch the Gnome contest. The children's
summer reading program sign up has begun,and story
hours start next week. There will also be a
centennial celebration in Owosso on July 1st, 
complete with cake & ice cream.  Brutus hopes to 
meet many of you at one of more of these events. In
the meanwhile, hereis the poem Brutus just 
discovered:
 
            CASEY AT THE BAT

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, “If only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We’d put up even money now, with Casey at the bat.”

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis├Ęd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile lit Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ‘twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
“That ain’t my style," said Casey. “Strike one!” the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted someone on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, “Strike two!”

“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered “Fraud!”
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.