Memoirous

Another sign of re-opening: I browsed the stacks at the public library the other day. I felt like such an interloper, surreptitiously sneaking around the “new arrivals.” I couldn’t stop thinking: I shouldn’t be here. Quick! Get some stuff and run! I kept waiting for a guard to lead me out or someone to say my time was up. I’ve been surviving on hold requests doled out to me like a prisoner meal slipped into a slot in the door. The feeling of walking around and browsing was a bit disorienting. It felt like I was driving on forest roads without a map—never quite sure of which fork to take. Meandering. Lost in stacks of books. Even the smell took some time to get used to. I waited for the old familiar to come back— But it didn’t. I was constantly aware, that this is the first time in 14 months since I was in a library. Not just shuffled past a desk or holds section, but left alone to breathe the air and find a home. I’m still getting used to it.

Remembering the Old Main Library of Cincinnati I remember walking into a library as if entering a sacred place, the high ceilings my cathedral. Scanning those tall shelves was like coming forward and kneeling at an altar. Libraries saved my life. I couldn’t get enough of books—until I visited a library and came to understand that I wouldn’t ever have enough time for all the books I wanted to read. I must’ve had to convince my father to drive me to the Kettering Library a couple times a month. Can you imagine! I couldn’t download or read online. There was no other way to gratify my pernicious itch to read except by going to a library—and for that I needed an adult. Until a branch was built JUST DOWN THE STREET. Yay! The only drawback was I had to wait until they opened. There were nights when I made lists of all the titles I’d search the card catalog for or subjects I wanted to research. I know I’d take my library card right up to the limit. It was only in readin...