library days

The first time I had my picture in the newspaper I was picking out books at the public library.  I was 21 months old at the time. 

The caption claims that I was getting assistance from the librarians, but I'm pretty sure the look on my face says "Back off, ladies, I can reach all the books on the bottom two shelves."

I have always loved the library. 

As a child, my worst punishment was not being allowed to read. 

In middle school, I worked as a "teen volunteer" at the library each summer. 

And from 1999 to 2007, I had the great fortune to live in three different apartments that were all within walking distance of a library.  It's pretty much the second most important thing about a dwelling, to me.  Right after running water. 

These days, I have to drive four miles down the road to visit the public library.  I go every Monday and I shelve books for two hours.  It is one of my favorite parts of the week. 

You see, the library is closed on Mondays.  When I get there, I knock on the back door and one of the librarians comes and lets me in.  It's a lot like being in a secret club. 

I wheel cart after cart out to the stacks and straighten up each row as I go.  It is so quiet and I can think about whatever I want while I'm working.  Or sometimes I hum a little, to myself. 

I get to find out about all sorts of interesting books this way, books that I would never normally pick up (remember that I judge books by their cover).  And when I find things that I want to take home, I just start a pile and check it all out before I leave.  A whole pile of magazines and books and movies that I get to take home.  For free. 

 

I love the library.