Think about the parents of a child with a rare disease, who want to read the latest medical journal articles. Or a small-town journalist struggling to understand the implications of a local enviornmental problem. Or even an amateur enthusiast who wants to see the research published by this year’s Nobel prize winners.

If you’re not a college student or professor, you’re largely left out in the cold when it comes to vast amounts of useful information (much of which we as taxpayers have helped to fund). For example, my own alma mater will not allow alumni to purchase access to their library databases for any price. (For $200/year, you can sit in the library and look at a printed book, but millions of journal articles and other electronic resources are forbidden.)

Even if you are in college, costs can be an issue. I remember being shocked that a “bulkpack” of readings for one of my classes cost $70 — and that was years ago. For students who are on scholarship and/or working their way through school, expensive coursebooks and readings are a significant barrier to getting the class materials they need, promptly and effectively.

The good news is that some passionate and visionary people have been working to change the current, locked-down system. Go read one of them now.

One of the things that stands out for me about A Wrinkle in Time was its unashamed, unusually explicit depiction of love. It was one of the first books I read in which a mother’s love for her husband was portrayed as passionate. Wow! The idea that Mrs. Murry could miss her husband as more than just a co-parent. There was also Meg’s love for Charles Wallace, a sibling love that wasn’t just described as powerful but actually had the power to change the course of events. And Calvin’s love for Meg, the seeds of which are taken seriously even amidst the joking affection of their interactions.

One of the obituaries I read said that L’Engle disliked being referred to as a “children’s author.” For me, what was revolutionary about her was the dignity with which she wrote about children’s lives. Children in her books were not short adults or cutesy role models. They were independent actors.

Adults too, flawed as they often were. I have given her non-fiction work Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage as a wedding gift. Maybe an odd choice, given that the book deals with the death of L’Engle’s husband. But beginning with the title, it does a superb job of pushing one to think about the frightening grandeur and loving pain of committing yourself to another person.

Her papers are at Wheaton College.

First, a 70-year-old man rhapsodizes:

[This is] the last bar in Margate…And by that, I mean it’s the last real bar. Just a lovely place. The prices are right and the food is good, for what it is. Lots of people met their wives here.”

And second, from a newly annointed young celebrity:

“When people come up to you and say nice things, it’s the loveliest thing, it just means that they’re enjoying what you’re trying hard to do,” [says the 23-year-old actor]. “But it’s so strange when you can tell someone recognizes you . . . but they just kind of stare at you. Michael was saying it’s like you’re an object. Like a vase or something.

“I realized what it might be like to be, like, a really attractive woman, you know what I mean? Like a hot girl. It’s like somebody’s staring at a really attractive woman, like – I feel weird that you’re staring at me, but you’re not saying anything, or saying hello, even.”

For those of you who want it spelled out: The elderly gentleman (who I have no doubt is a lovely human being) is unconsciously using “people” as if it includes only men. (Lots of people met their wives here.) The younger gentleman is fumbling his way towards understanding how it feels to be treated like an object, something that happens much more often to women in our society than to men.

The road is long, but every step helps.

A 50-ton bowhead whale caught off the Alaskan coast last month had a weapon fragment embedded in its neck that showed it survived a similar hunt — more than a century ago.

Embedded deep under its blubber was a 3 1/2-inch arrow-shaped projectile that has given researchers insight into the whale’s age, estimated between 115 and 130 years old.

When I studied geology, I was amazed by the difference between human lifetimes, measured in 70 or 80 years, and geologic time, measured in tens of thousands of years. Now I am struck by the fact that some of the privileges that are most dear to me — like the right to vote — are younger than this whale.

Thanks, whale. May your spirit be at peace.