Imagine an eccentric young nanny in Chicago – a real-life Mary Poppins. Free-spirited, loved by her kids.

That’s magic in itself. But now imagine 100,000 photographs sitting in boxes undiscovered. All taken by Vivian Maier.

This is the story of a young businessman who bought a box full of old photographs for $400. As he began sorting through the images, he decided to post some of them on the Internet to try to glean more information.

And the Internet promptly told him that these were no Kodak snapshots. A deluge of requests and inquiries flooded his email, asking for book deals, art exhibits and more. This stuff is damn good. Almost Cartier-Bresson good, in fact – just incredible street photography. There remains entire boxes of undeveloped film, too. All from a woman who lived into her 80s as a private and solitary unknown.

Chicago Magazine: A Life in Shadow

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The last roll of Kodachrome was processed yesterday. And in Parsons, Kan. of all places! I wish I had some of my own to scan for you, but instead you’ll have to rely on this last roll by National Geographic’s Steve McCurry.

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Remember the “We Can Do It!” war poster? A woman flexing her biceps in a factory? The actual woman the poster was based on has died at the age of 86. And she didn’t even know about the iconic poster until 1982.

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And finally, for those trying to use iPads as serious photo editing devices, there’s an app update that you need to get: Photogene 2.0. I would, but I’m selling mine. I’m the proud papa of an 11” Macbook Air.

I’m disappointed in you, dear friends. I expect to be kept aware of happenings both foreign and domestic, and you’ve let a big one slip. Tonight, for the first time since 1638, a total lunar eclipse will usher in Tuesday’s winter solstice.

Why does it matter, you ask? We’ll start with the lunar eclipse. You’ll see a blood-red moon as the Earth bullies its way in between the sun and our smaller sibling. According to the Times-Picayune, that shadow will start taking a bite out of the moon starting at 12:33 a.m. CST Tuesday. The totality phase will last 72 minutes, starting at 1:41 a.m. And if you’re a lazy bastard, pop your head outside right at 2:17 a.m. CST. Deal?

Those of us with suffocating cloud cover (ahem, Illinois) will be left to hobble outside in 2094 to try again.

Now on to the winter solstice.

While my family in Wichita, Kan. enjoys a 60-degree day, a lot of us are still flirting with mind-numbing cold. It’s cruel and unusual punishment to remind us that it’s not winter yet. For us, autumn is the short, four-week intro to our 5-months of brutal hell (if hell were frozen.) I’m told there are astronomical reasons for it, so let’s review.

As the Earth careens around the sun, the tilt wobbles like an alcoholic mid-binge. Each day becomes shorter than the last as we near the end of the year, until we’re left saying goodbye to daylight at 4 p.m. and waiting 15 hours in darkness until illuminated again. It’s rough stuff, friends. But rejoice, for the winter solstice marks the shortest day of the year! Look for it at 5:38 p.m. CST Tuesday. There will be no fanfare, no fireworks. And probably no cake.

That’s it for class today, kids.

The New York Times: There goes the sun

The Guardian: What the months of the year mean to me

I’ve fallen in love with the library again.

Guffaws, eh? Thanks a lot.

Peoria just completed a $9 million renovation of their downtown branch, the first one since it was built in 1968. There was concern (among me, myself and I) that they would half-ass the rehab after voters approved a dressing-up instead of any new construction.

Let the record show that I was wrong.

Very little of the old library is still recognizable. One of the most touted features is a giant opening they cut right through the center of the bunker-like building. Light streams down from a skylight all the way to the first floor. There’s new furniture with nooks for reading or writing while enjoying a prime view of the downtown scene.

Books seem easier to find, too. I wandered around the second floor and wanted to grab a football-hold of text. A two-week loan period stopped me, though. Four weeks would be dangerous (I’m a habitual late-fine payer.)

I only have two quibbles. One: I really, really dislike self-checkouts. Grocery stores, video stores, and soon – hospitals? I understand that it saves personnel’s time to help patrons with finding books and such, but there’s something satisfying about talking to someone in a place where talking is generally discouraged. Despite this, I’m mighty impressed by the RFID system they’re using. Thrown down your stack of books on a pad and it checks them out in one big batch via radio wave magic. My second quibble seems whiny now. Down with coffee vending machines!

A big part of my childhood was spent in libraries, especially when my mom was still working. I’d walk the short distance from my school to the Westlink Branch in Wichita, Kan., staying clear of the fiction, but guzzling non-fiction until told to stop. Technical books were my mainstay, with young Adam easily reading a good 75-100 pages accidentally while sitting on his legs in an aisle. I even volunteered one summer, shelving books and accomplishing other mindless tasks.

The downtown branch of the Wichita library was remarkable; multi-storied, with the main fiction collection in a huge three-story atrium. It was a rare trip for the Gerik family, but one I begged and pleaded to take as often as possible.

Once off at college, I became a big fan of the Hays, Kan. library. Although serving a town of only 20,000 people, it remains an old girlfriend that I can’t forget. I remember reading something about their funding per capita being astronomical, easily double or triple that of other cities. An attempt to numb the isolation of Western Kansas? I’m remain a bitter man for the rest of my life. Peoria doesn’t even have the new Steve Martin book, “An Object of Beauty.”

So we shall see if Peorians continue to pop inside once the newness wears off. These river city people are notorious for considering the downtown area “dangerous” and a place to avoid after dark. The library has followed suit, shutting its doors at 6pm.