Library Card

Such anxious happiness spread though my little body as I waited in line at the big desk in the middle of the library. I have always been small, even as an adult, but my little 9 year old body was probably half the size of other children. The desk seemed to loom over me in its mahogany glow, a slight reflection picking up those in front of me. to me, it was all just legs in front of me, with an occasional glimpse of the desk. I was so excited and nervous to get to the desk, this meant I was finally old enough!

The line in front of me inched forward, and as it did I was able to catch a glimpse of the desk. To me it seemed huge, but I was always small so everything seemed big to me. It was a dark wood that had been polished to a shine on the paneling that went all the way to the floor. That shine produced blurry reflections of those standing in line. Everyones legs were fuzzy in the reflection, and as I waited I only caught glimpses of the librarian, busily stamping and finding book holds.

I remember so vividly the smell of my library. The perfect mix of old paper, cracking glue, metal and wood shelving, the librarians perfume, all of these things felt like home to me. I still remember those smells with a fondness and longing, wistful, happy moments of quiet and safety. The green carpet was thinning in some places, threadbare patches where feet have stood and shuffled while browsing the stacks. The water fountain had two sizes, which I thought was amazing, I could get my own drinks without needing a boost. I really was very short, still am. The double doors creaking slightly when opened and hushed themselves when they closed. This was the best place in the world, so full of potential and possibilities.

As the line grew shorter I got more excited. My turn was coming soon! Okay, double check that I have my school ID card and permission slip. I held them tightly but carefully so as not to wrinkle them. My heart pounded and skipped! I was next! This was it! I walked up to the desk, my head barely clearing the top of the desk. I put my papers on the top and waited. A friendly face, soft and creased leaned down at me. I lifted my eyes to meet hers. Heart pounding all the while. Gentle tones met my anxious ears. “Well Hello there. Are you ready to get your library card today?” she asked. “Yes please.” I answered. “Why don’t you come over here,” she said. I walked around the desk where she lead me to a lower counter, one I could see over. A bit of shuffling of papers, and she reached into a drawer, and produced it. THE LIBRARY CARD! There it was! My ticket to worlds out of time and space. Safe places to fill the caverns, visions of far away lands, mad scientists, kings and queens, ancient mysteries, animal discoveries and more! She handed it to me and I scrawled my name and looked back at her anxiously. “Now don’t lose that and remember you can take out 5 books at a time.” I promised I would be careful with it’ and as I thanked her I was already scanning the room; trying to decide where to look first.

The children’s section was always a great start. I loved children’s books, I still do. The illustrations and words explaining the world in bright pose and lilting stanzas. From strange to silly, I wanted to read them all! And now, I could pick 5 of them if I wanted! But I had to choose carefully, after all there were travel books and encyclopedias and mystery books. What would I choose this first time? I had to be thoughtful and meticulous. The first time checking out books is a big deal after all. Before I knew it I was nestled back in a corner with several books stacked around me. I decided I would read as many as I could before I had to leave. I sat cross legged, scrunched tiny and escaped.

I noticed a change in light quality as I read and scanned the shelves. I found the big clock above the double doors and saw that it was almost 4:30. I only had a half an hour till I needed to walk home. I turned to the right just in time to see the small drawers being pulled from the card catalog. I loved those perfect little storage systems. We had to learn the dewey decimal system and the card catalog in class, and I used that knowledge for most of my life. The sound of the drawers carefully sliding and dropping reminded me I had to get going and choose soon. The smudged brass handles seemed to wink at me, spurring me on to find those first five treasures.

It is so strange to me that I can not remember what I chose. I wish I knew. What I do know is that I kept that library card until they converted to plastic and I had to get a new one. I got another one after turning 18. I treasured those cards above all else. I had my purse stolen once, and what I was most upset about is losing my library card. I was so careful with those books. Bringing them back on time was almost religious, because that meant I could get more. One summer I read the World Book Encyclopedia’s. All of them, front to back. The sound of them cracking open was music to me. The crinkle of plastic and cellophane book protectors was the ringing of church bells. I would sneak books into mass on Sunday, for which I would be hit, but it was so worth it. I read every second I could. I read everything, spending countless hours lost in the stacks. The quiet was grace to me.

That first day, I do remember the sun just starting to set as I walked home. The books were heavy for me and the edges sharp, but I relished their weight. I really had no business be alone at that age, in that neighborhood. I knew just how fast to walk to make it home before dark. I knew right where I would keep them so they would not get lost. I remember that walk, but not those titles. That somehow seems tragic.

I learned so much in those four walls. I found out so much about myself, and where I was in the world. I learned where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do and why the Earth is sacred and perfect. I learned about Buddha, and President Kennedy. I learned about Rosa Parks, and Rachel Carson. I memorized everything I could about animals, plants and rocks. I learned about anatomy and alchemy. There at the library I first met Stephen King, Agatha Christy, Oscar Wild, Mary Shelly, Edgar Allen Poe, and of course Bram Stoker. In the stacks, and at the worn and shiny wooden desks I learned about Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I experienced light and warmth from Maya Angelou, and Toni Morrison. The poetry of Jim Morrison, the history of the Beatles, devoured The Song Remains The Same, and mourned the tragic life of Charly Parker. All of these things changed me, made me a better person, a more diverse person. That first card opened my soul to great ponderings. I will always be grateful for it.

That little card gave me more than I could ever fully explain. I still love the library, although much has changed. The memories I hold from there are beautiful and warm. The gifts that I received from those books, those stacks, that time are held in great esteem. While I can find anything I want online now, I still wish for those double doors, the threadbare carpet and kind, wise women to help me on my way.