My childhood library stood directly across the street from the church where my father was a minister. When I wasnât helping Dad in the church folding bulletins, or sharpening the pencils in the pews, I was across the street, exploring our local library. I spent hours there. Each time I entered the front doors and heard the soft trickle of water coming from the fountain in the lobby, I felt as though Iâd walked into a space just as sacred as the sanctuary across the street. To this day, walking into a library opens a space in my chest; it evokes the feeling of coming home, walking into a warm hug of someone who knows all your inner thoughts and recognizes the nature of your heart.
In honor of February being Library Loverâs Month, I am proudly declaring myself to be a library lover. From Mrs. Heineman, my childhood librarian who sang âThere Was an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Flyâ during storytime while arranging cardboard cutouts on a flannel board, to Mrs. Lehman, my high school librarian, who insisted a boy named Trevor ask me to prom before she granted him a late pass to get back to class, libraries have always felt like something all my own â a place just for me.
When my husband and I moved to a new state as a young married couple, I immediately headed to the library where I gathered books and puppets and music CDs to keep our young song entertained on our shoestring budget. We went to countless storytimes, listening to Ms. Marlene tell stories in hushed tones in a cozy corner of the childrenâs library while my son sat spellbound, clutching his stuffed monkey and wearing footie pajamas.
By the time we had four children, the library was where we headed most Friday nights â we called it Family Date Night. Miss Sarah always had a new book to show us. Miss Judy remembered all my kids’ names, one of the few people who didnât refer to my three sons as âthe boys,â but rather knew all their names and their individual interests. She introduced my daughter to Fancy Nancy and The Paper Bag Princess.
I wonder how much the library has saved me over the years? All the books I didnât have to buy, movies I didnât have to rent. My library now even has a kitchen section where I can borrow cake pans in all shapes and sizes, or an air fryer, a fondue pot, or a crepe maker. I can borrow eco tools like a thermal leak detector or a device to test the efficiency of my homeâs energy usage. Record player? Theyâve got those, plus records to go with them. Tax forms? Yep. Information on local elections? Consumer reports? Check, check.
It should come to no surprise that I work in a library now. I didnât go to library school to become a librarianâthat seemed too lofty a goal for me. But my job in the marketing department of a top-rated library remains my dream job even as I close in on ten years there. The library is that rare place that opens its doors to everyone; you can walk in and there is no expectation for you to buy anything, or to state your purpose of why youâre there. Stay as long as you want. There is most likely a big sunny window to look out, maybe a comfy chair or couch inviting you to sit down and rest while you thumb your way through the pages of a newspaper, a magazine, or a book. Most libraries offer programs offering tech classes, crafts, language clubs, history presentations, author visits, and sometimes even dramatic storytelling or live theater. Whether libraries are large or small, old or new, they all share a common feel to them: calm and magical. There is free Wifi. There are friendly folks who will help you find the item youâre looking for. They can suggest a new author or a new movie.Â
I am unabashedly declaring my love for libraries. Among its shelves, I am welcome, and I belong. I am a worthy human being, trusted to borrow valuable materials, asked only to bring them back in a timely fashion so that someone else may take a turn. I am a library lover.
