When I was growing up the library was my favorite place in the world I spent most of my summer vacations at the local South Branch library, reading my way (alphabetically, of course) through the children’s section and, once Ms Cook the librarian decided I was old enough, on through a curated portion of the “grown-up” section.
Fast forward a few decades to when my son was little when we spent countless hours at the local library, progressing from story-time and picture books, to chapter-books and beyond. I still have his very first library card – a bright-orange card with a signature on the back that only one who had given birth to him could decipher. I didn’t bother getting a library card of my own at that time, since I always had his with me. Someone perusing the library records might have wondered why a six-year old was checking out romance novels, but no one seemed to mind.
Since that time, other than a period when I was doing research at my university library a number of years ago, I haven’t set foot inside a library for longer than I can remember, unless you count my own house which does, I’ll admit, bear a striking resemblance to a library. Continue reading