OH, Suzanna! Librarians I Have Loved Part I

I should say the very first librarian in my life was my mother. She loved (and still does) to have stacks and stacks of books on hand in any room in the house. There was a special book case in the living room that I was not allowed to touch until I learned to read. I am supposing this was to inspire me to higher learning instead of a long life of picture books. When I learned to read there was just one shelf of books that I was allowed to peruse. I was told the other books and shelves were for the teenagers and the adults in the house, the topics were too mature for me. We were allowed to have books in our rooms and pretty much where ever we wanted, but this particular bookshelf was closely watched by my mother, or at least she led me to believe that. I was not about to slip up on this one thing and lose the privilege of THE BOOK SHELF. I wanted to read those OTHER books! So I tried to obey as best I could. I passed.

(Below is the happy little mess I refer to as Becky's Library. My 6 year old daughter's design I assure you. Half of the books are in the head board bookshelf, on the living room coffee table and end tables- you name it- even a few in the bathroom!) 

My maternal grandmother sold Compton's Encyclopedias in her off months of being a teacher/principal. At our humble farm we had an impressive (impressive to a young child like me anyway) tan leather bound set of Compton's at our disposal. Grandma thought it best for her five grandchildren to have access to research material for our school reports. Then the world started changing way too fast for the encyclopedias to stay up to date economically. AND we started making weekly trips to the Fayette County Public Library. It was opened up to county use in 1974, before that it was the Connersville Public Library.

Here I was introduced to something bigger than myself. Something respected and what I thought would be permanent. The building was built to inspire and draw one into the heavy wooden stacks of leather and paper. There was limestone, brick, marble, tile, leaded glass, deep hard wood floors and heavy wrought iron  and brass hardware. There was a smell of wood polish, and stamping pad inks, of window cleaner and shifted dust, of cool air and various perfumes of visiting patrons. I acquired my love of architecture from this building. It was not just a beautiful building - it housed a soul. It had a purpose and a very important function. It was needed and loved. It was a quiet world of repose and reflection, of contemplation and learning, of planning and striving, of building up and preparing, of bemusement and entertaining. I absorbed at a very tender age the whole concept of the Arts and Crafts Movement in architecture with out even realizing there was such a thing. 

I was taught that reading held the possibilities of the world in a little bound bit of printed papers. Reading was a ticket to any where, anything you wanted your life to be. Reading materials and your imagination married and created your own offspring of thoughts, desires, attitudes, and aspirations. It effected your heart. It effected your life. In that old Andrew Carnegie building it was a real possibility.

My grandma often talked of when the progressive movement started to influence ideas across culture. One of the ideas was that public buildings should have high ceilings so as to inspire awe and reaching heavenward, to facilitate the room in which to strive toward higher thinking. That made sense to me since the library was a perfect example of this concept.

 In 1981 my beloved library was replaced with a newer one that even to this day we locals still refer to it as The New Library. I guess I was not the only one that loved the old building.

In the 32 years that have passed I have found my favorite places with in The New Library. The place that I love to pretend is my mobile office for research is the Indiana Room. Comfortable leather chairs and high quiet stacks also make room for (now) ancient micro film readers, computer terminals and printers.

This past Sunday morning (January 6, 2013) while prepping veggies and such for the upcoming week I was listening, as usual, to NPR (National Public Radio) on my 20 + year old boom box on the kitchen counter. This week I caught a segment borrowed from IPR (INTERNATIONAL Public Radio) called Selected Shorts. I was pleasantly surprised to hear Ray Bradbury's "Exchange" being read. I remember reading this short story in high school, perhaps junior high school. I don't remember, but I DO remember being impressed that I was the soldier and wanted to be in my future life the librarian. Not a librarian necessarily, but LOVED like this librarian was. I knew this story would stay with me. It had changed me in a way I was not yet aware, but knew it had changed me nonetheless.

Thirty odd years later I think I put my finger on that change.

Mr. Bradbury had captured the magic a librarian holds (held?) in her/his hands. The knowledge a librarian holds, the power that knowledge gives one. Or it was that way. See, librarians did not have to be computer programmers, accountants, or marketing specialists. The librarian was the master of the collections. The librarian knew the regular patrons and knew their tastes, knew their dispositions. The librarian could kick you out of the library if you did not follow the rules. (Or quietly tell a high school Suzanna to toss the can of Mountain Dew in the trash immediately or she would call Suzanna's parents.) The librarian was your friend and loved to see you grow if you would let them. The librarian LOVED the collection and wanted to foster that love in anyone that walked through the big heavy Andrew Carnegie gifted doors. The librarian was there year after year because she/he WANTED to be. This was their love, their career of passion. The librarian watched children grow to adults, watched adults become the aged, watched families grow and move on. The librarian knew so very much of the town.

One of my behaviors of habit that I acquired early on in my travels is that of upon entering a new town I visit the library and ask of the librarians all the information I want of the town. I have never been disappointed in the answers I have received. If the librarian did not know, a further source within the city was offered. Maps and city organization, business districts, hospitals, pharmacies, parks, entertainment. Sure, now these days you can just Google your inquiry and get results. BUT, will you get a FAVORED answer? Will Google tell you that the waitresses at the diner down the block will refill your drink for free if you just say thank you and please? Will Google tell you that the best put in for your kayak is on the south side of town, (where the river's waters quiet down much more) not the more heavily advertised north side near the canoe company? Will Google tell you that the road of the cemetery (that you researched in the Indiana Room) where your great great grandpa is buried is in ill repair and is almost a gravel road again and it might not be in your best interest to travel it in this down pour of rain today?

Tomorrow I will continue "Librarians I Have Loved" in part two.

-Suzanna