Raised by the Library…

I hear a lot about folks who claim they were “raised in the library”. This always seems super cool to me since I definitely was not raised in my library.

I have some VERY vivid memories about the libraries of my youth. I can smell the smells, remember the way the weight of the book(s!) felt in my little hands as I walked out the door and into the sunshine. There are even some cool residual details from after library trips that are burned in my brain, as if there was pixie dust from those buildings that permeated the space time continuum and an event’s mere proximity to a library visit also made it special.

On my first trip to a Public Library I checked out Roald Dahl’s The Witches from a library in New Jersey. I went home and climbed a cherry tree in full bloom in our front yard and read until I was scared I’d finish the book and have the story end.

When we moved to Maine I quietly stalked the shelves of our small Library and found a small blue tome, the kind that had it’s title written in gold on its spine. (The kind of book you can call a freakin’ tome and mean it!) Inside there were little poems about mermaids and shipwrecks, cresting waves and the lonely pitch of ships in the fog. I would sneak back to that shelf for “my book” many times. As an adult I’m putting off calling and being “that patron” who asks for “the small blue book in the 811’s with a nautical focus”. I shudder at both the reality that I must do this or I will simply die and the empathy I will feel for the person on the other end of that phone call. Especially when I’ll ask in vain if they know “what happened to it?” when it will surely be long removed from the collection…

A lot of us have stories like these and I love meeting other librarians and hearing their renditions of this story but I never got to say I was “raised by my library”. It’s silly to be envious of this claim but sometimes I am. Like I’m not core enough for my job because I didn’t have that immersion. Is it possible that this is on par with Jewish Guilt or Catholic Guilt? If so, I’m devoted to the art form…

However, right now I’m sitting in an airport on the way to my wedding. I’ve spent the day attending a training for women on leadership because of the generosity of our Friends. I was given gifts and hugs all day by staff and then driven to the airport by a patron. On the way here the most fabulous 12 year old ever told me I was the coolest person in the world when I described what my wedding would be like. Then he asked me to plan his wedding when the time comes.

I’ve been gifted with a handmade Christmas wreath from a Kindergarten class, a Robert Frost quote translated into gorgeous oil pastel art from a senator’s husband, a 5 pack (FIVE!) of custom made cd’s when I left VT from a teenager, the consideration, time, love and conversation from the entire staff of my first library after heartbreak, lessons in foreign languages from kids whose language was the only constant in their lives as fleeing refugees, the volunteer efforts from friends as I ventured into unchartered Library territory and made them stay up all night with dozens of teenagers, and now with the freedom to explore the boundaries of my profession to depths I never dreamed possible… and all while they ask for info on my wedding registry…

I may not have been raised by my library as a child but as a human and an adult I have been raised by my libraries. And I am so lucky.

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