Growing up in a small-town, the library was within walking distance
of our house, so I frequently made the trip alone (this was the late
70s, and as my fellow Gen-X'ers can attest, kids did things like
that then). Down our own street, up the sidewalk to the center of
town, and across main street, then in the back door. Past a water
fountain and into the library proper, the smell of the books hit you
as soon as you opened the heavy inner doors.
I remember the card catalogs in the center of the library, arrayed
like a wheel. I felt such a sense of accomplishment when, after
opening a few long drawers, and flipping through dozens of cards,
the one book title or author I was looking for came into view. I
hurriedly wrote down the information on a small, cut-up piece of
scrap paper with a little stub of a pencil, and ran to sleuth out
the correct bookcase and shelf.
Then of course the books. I could browse the shelves for what seemed
like hours, just skimming through whatever interested me. After a
while I'd have gathered a stack of books and I'd take it up to the
front desk, library card in hand. One at a time, the librarian
would take a due-date card out of each book, stamp it crookedly
inside the next open rectangle in black ink (one of those rotating
date stamps that you had to press into the ink pad every few
presses), and slide it back in. Then I'd tuck the pile under my arm
and walk back home.
A fond memory that I recognize as pure nostalgia. Libraries today
are much more than simple book depositories. My old library has
grown up, as it were. It's now much bigger and offers computers,
internet access, resume advice, technical help, videos, ebooks, and
community gatherings. Not that I visit much anymore, living in
another country. My current local library is quite a bit smaller
than my old hometown library, and most of the books are in
French. So it's not as useful to me as I would like.
