I was the weird kid who got excited about going to the library. It was an exciting trip for me and was often granted as a reward for chores or just generally being awesome. During the summers, I would load up a basket with almost two dozen Nancy Drew books at a time and finish them all within a week. We spent loads of time there, checking out educational videos (you know, back when VHS tapes seemed cool) and browsing the bookshelves. I used to think the adult section (not that kind of adult) was this mysterious other world where grown-ups gathered and the air smelled like old books. I was also--and still am--a book sniffer. I can't help myself; I just like the way they smell. But I digress. My point is that I've had a life-long love affair with my local public library.
A couple of years ago, citing budget cuts, our city council threatened to close the library. I was heart-broken. I was also defiant. I come from a highly-educated suburb where the schools are fantastic. I've seen (and joined) people lining up outside of the library waiting for it to open. There are some afternoons on which it's hard to find parking. And we have a large parking lot. Good luck getting a study table on a Saturday afternoon. We are a city that loves its library. There was no way the council could shut it down and get away with it. I was fully prepared to stage a sit-in if need be. But part of me also panicked. What if they actually did it? Hundreds of childhood memories were tied up in that slightly-shabby, very 1970s-esque building. Plus, it contained an almost limitless supply of my favorite passtime: books. Sure enough, the city council ended up keeping the library going. I visit almost every day now that I'm living back home.
The library is close enough to my house that it's become a vital part of my exercise regimen. I hate walking or running in circles around my block. I like to go somewhere. The library, a 1.57 trip from my front door is a great solution. As long as it's not raining (or, soon, snowing), it's the perfect destination for a walk, jog, or bike ride. Sometimes I have an errand to run there: picking up something on hold, dropping off something that's due, stocking up on audio books so I don't lose my mind on an 1100-mile solo roadtrip. Sometimes I just take a book with me and chill out in the lounge for a bit or browse the shelves, mentally adding to my "to-read" list before I head back home.
I've attended two major universities during my academic career, so my exposure to libraries only got grander after leaving home. You know what I mean: enormous old buildings stuffed to the brim with what seems like every book ever published. Buildings you could get lost in and not find your way out until you've spent a week sustaining yourself by gnawing on old leather bindings. What I'm trying to say is that I'm used to great, big libraries that are teeming with people.
This afternoon, I had to have a test proctored at a library in the city next to mine. Before leaving to take the test, I swung by my library to drop off a book that was due. Then I set out to this other library. I walked in and stopped at the entrance. Looked around. Blinked. It was tiny. I never visited the youth section, but I knew instinctively that the whole collection wouldn't have had enough Nancy Drew books to sustain one week of my childhood summer reading habits. The computer lab was tiny and filled with monitors old enough to not be flat-screens. It was...sad. Two communities, right next door to each other, and their entire library could fit into the youth section at ours.
I can't imagine growing up without a library like mine. I think about all of the stories I would've missed out on, all the ideas I might not have had, the journeys my imagination wouldn't have taken if I hadn't had immediate and almost unfettered access to all of those books. Something like 98 or 99% of our city's public high school graduates go on to college. I don't know this other town's exact stats, but I know that their numbers are a lot lower. Maybe that has something to do with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment