Sunday Newscape Magazine

Sometimes, when I’ve had about all I can take of this mean season we seem to be stuck in, I go to the library. I no longer have to actually walk into my local library because it has a drive-thru window where I can pick up the books I’ve ordered through the library website. I simply drive up and receive my desired books. I can even get a latte and muffin delivered from the library coffee shop without ever having to haul my rear end out of the car.

But occasionally, I will park and enter the building through automatic doors that make a “whooshing” sound when they open. This library is sleek and modern, covered with large windows that let you look out at the carefully designed landscaping. It has computers and comfortable chairs. It has a room set aside for teenagers, where they can play video games and watch DVDs. I once peeked inside the teen room before its occupants rushed to close the door to my prying adult eyes. Surprisingly, there was even a shelf or two of books.

And the rest of the library also contains books, at least for the time being. The books behave themselves, staying discretely tucked away where they will not interfere with the computers and the coffee shop.

Whenever I enter my local library - a glistening glass temple dedicated as much to my comfort as my cognition - I can't help thinking about the library in the town where I grew up. It was a squat, one-story brick building with only a few windows and a laissez-faire type of landscaping that consisted mostly of weeds. The wooden door wasn't automatic. You had to tug to open it, and then you had to make sure it closed behind you. Leaving the door open would surely bring the ire of Miss Hadley the librarian down upon your head.

Though I didn’t know it at the time, Miss Hadley was the very embodiment of the librarian stereotype. She wore her hair in a bun and kept her glasses on a chain around her neck. She spent a lot of time pressing a finger to her mouth to remind certain patrons (mainly boys) to be quiet.

For various reasons, I passed many an afternoon at the library. Because I never left the door open or made much noise  and because I think she recognized a kindred spirit - Miss Hadley liked me.

I’d wander through the shelves of books, and I’d run my finger along the spines until I found an intriguing title. Then I’d pull out the book and sit in a hard, plastic chair and read for hours. Sometimes, I’d pull out a drawer in the card catalogue and flip through dozens of cards, reading each book summary. I was amazed and thrilled to realize how much accumulated knowledge, how much mental adventure, was out there waiting for me.

Today, the word “librarian” is out. They’re information professionals now, and the library is a Media Resource Center, wired to the hilt. But I can still remember the thrill of those dusty card catalogues.

© Jackie Papandrew All Rights Reserved www.jackiepapandrew.com