"Librarians have always been among the most thoughtful and helpful people. They are teachers without a classroom." --- Willard Scott
Someone informed my daughter late last year that she was twenty years too late. Aghast, her dad and I heard Betsy reply, "Late for what?" She's a tough little cookie for thirty.
If the saboteur had only known, Betsy - the granddaughter of a U. S. Army Colonel - is never late for anything. And secondly, she was raised with the general mindset that it's never too late, for anything. Why, if it were, not much in life would happen. "Never too late" was, in fact, Zuma Magee's legacy to us all according to renowned columnist Moggie Bickham in her remembrance of the local icon (published December 10, 1986). And it was a valuable concept I impressed on my offspring.
Taking stock, I penned a long overdue column. It was this time last year that Washington Parish lamentably lost a prince of a man when Al Barron (1967-2021) succumbed in October at the young age of fifty-four. The son of Barnard and Margaret Rider Barron, he was born in March of 1967 in Metairie, Louisiana. He graduated from Southeastern Louisiana University with a Bachelor's degree in Education, after which he earned a Master's degree in Library Science from Louisiana State University. And his chosen field is how I came to know him.
Allison B. "Al" Barron was the Library Director of the Washington Parish Library System when we first met. He could not have been kinder when I landed on the Franklinton Library doorstep following my foray into column writing. Wet behind the ears, I hadn't a clue where to look or what to look for, for that matter. That's where Al's expertise came in, pointing me in the right direction at the local library. As an adult, I had spent an inordinate amount of time in law libraries. It was Thomas Jefferson who said, "A lawyer without books would be like a workman without tools." But I needed to be reoriented at the local library - a place where, as a kid, I had been in my element.
Under no obligation - I was a complete stranger - Al took me under his wing, showing me the inner workings of the library. An experience, for me, equal only to my tour of the post office. Al took me on an informative, behind-the-scenes tour of what I call the historical, rare documents section, which included genealogy. And he called my attention to what was important. As it turned out, all of it was important.
With Al's guidance, I was able to go home and assemble my own little library, from the materials my late parents and grandparents left me, purchasing over time the bits and pieces that were missing. Al came to the rescue when he discovered my Magee book was in tatters, having taken a beating from overuse at the hands of Momma and me. Before I could say lickety-split, Al had the book converted to a CD, making it indestructible and also portable. I could not have been more surprised or grateful.
Then, when in the early years of this column, I spent hours in the Franklinton Library looking for information on microfiche, he not only trained me on the machine, but he arranged for Branch Manager and Genealogy Specialist Bonnie Dier to be my right hand. Without Al and Bonnie, I would not have survived that machine. And that was microfiche machine number one. Before I knew it, Al had acquired a second super-duper contraption - an advancement - to read the microfiche. Though I never quite mastered the second machine, I always had the feeling that it arrived at the library in no small part because Al wanted to help those of us who were struggling with research though I could count on one hand the folks I saw using that machine.
As time marched on and a surfeit of topics materialized, I began needing the machine less and the library facilities more. Al generously allowed me to utilize the library and its conference room for meeting with area residents. Centrally located, it was a terrific, convenient place - pre-covid - to interview folks, though it was never that formal. And the Librarians, ladies like Carmen and Bonnie, were as kind to me as Al was.
What I really regret is that I never really talked with him, about his own life. I didn't know where Al was from or how he landed at the Washington Parish Library. I just knew he wasn't from around here - as a native, that's something I always know. But he could have been, for all of his good qualities. As I discovered after his leave-taking, he was a United States Army reservist and a member of an honor society of American veterans and service members. I wasn't surprised.
And Al was the husband of Stacie Roed Barron and father of daughter Rachel. I was lucky enough to have met Rachel, once upon a time. Her dad had promised her a treat that day, and she was dancing a jig in the library. It was nice, as a patron, to see life in the library. An only child, like me, with a doting dad, I identified right away. Al is surely missed by his family, which also included his brother Clarence Barron (Cathy) and his sister Cheryl Pfeifer.
He is also missed by the public at large - people like me who came to know him at the library where he held court. If there is any consolation, Al spent much of his time with books in a library. Henry David Thoreau wrote, "Read the best books first, or you may not have a chance to read them at all." I would wager that Al had. I was one of a legion of locals whose lives he made a difference in, via the library. Al's own was a life cut short, but it was one well lived. And Washington Parish is the better for it.
