365 Days Of Me: January 6 -- LIbrary Hero

The only haven where I felt comfortable in my own skin growing up was at the library.  The first time I ever set foot in one was when I was in the 5th grade.  My teacher gave each of the students a book that they had to find at the library, find a particular section, and report on what we found.  This was meant to teach us how to use a public library to gather information for reports, what for our own personal use if we so chose.

There were no buses, you either had to find a ride, or just walk.  Since Mom didn't have a car, I had to do the latter, so it was no big deal stopping by the local library since, while it was a bit out of the way, I didn't have anything else better to do anyway.

Since my childhood was somewhat sheltered, I considered the library as a place where only adults went.  This gave me a sense of excitement about this project, because not only was I given responsibility, but I also got to do something that seemed more mature than other homework assignments.

Even though we had a week t complete the assignment, I called Mom from school after the final bell to tell her that I was stopping at the library on the way home for a homework assignment.  She sounded a bit apprehensive about the stop, so I gave the phone to the receptionist who then gave her the library's number in case she had any concerns.  The receptionist even gave her the name of the head librarian, just so my mother would have a name to reassure her.

I walked briskly and eagerly toward my destination, going over what we had learned about the Dewey Decimal System in my head, trying to remember what subjects went with which numbers.  By the time the library was in sight, I was convinced that what little I could remember was all kinds of wrong.  

I opened the door into the main area of the library, and what I saw took my breath away.  I had never seen so many books in one place before that were at my disposal, and the possibilities what was I was seeing caused me to stand there and just gape.  Ahead of me was the main check out desk where three women sat.  Two were busy on the phone, while they third seemed to be concentrating on something that was laying on her desk.

To my right was a copier, with a big sign taped to the side that said, "Copies.  10 cents". Beyond that were books upon books, that crept up the walls and around a corner.  For all I knew that wall went on forever.

To my left was a display case showing off the feature of the month.  It was November, and the theme was, "Books To Be Thankful For".  Inside were books standing on little racks, and notes beside each one giving the name of the books, a one line synopsis, and a recommendation from a staff member.  Looking past that were more books, and a sign that made me cock my head in slight confusion.

As I said before, I considered the library to be a place only adults went, so why was I seeing a Children's Area, and a Young Adult section.  I didn't think there could be more possiblities than I already had considered, but there were, and I continued to gape.

Someone opened up the door behind me, and that's what made me snap out of my reverie, and I looked around for a vacant table.  There were plenty, and I walked over to the nearest one with my books and set up camp.

What I thought would be an exercise in frustration ended up only taking me about a half hour to do.  I went to the library catalog and looked up the book I was supposed to find.  As I went in search of it, it occurred to me that the book might be checked out and I would have to wait for it to be returned to complete my assignment. I only had a week, and I didn't know how long you were allowed to borrow books from the library.

My fears were unfounded, the book I was looking for was right where it was supposed to be.  I pulled it off the shelf and went back to my table, and went straight to work.  

The book I was supposed to find was a book about mythology, and I had to answer questions on the assignment about whatever was written on the pages designated on the assignment.

I didn't know what the other kids' assignments were, but mine was pretty fun.  I got to learn about Medusa and I enjoyed reading about how she was so ugly she could turn someone to stone just by looking them in the eyes.

I had expected the assignment to take a couple of hours at least, so when I saw that only a half an hour had passed, I decided that I was going to do some exploring.

---

I immediately went to the fiction section and starting going from book to book, occasionally pulling out a title I thought would be interesting to look at the cover.  Now that I had completed my assignment, my mind began to ponder the sheer volume of possibilities that surrounded me.

The first book that truly captured my attention was Cujo by Stephen King.  The cover was beige with the title written in large print along the top.  I didn't know who Stephen King was at the time, but there was something about the snarling jowls on the front cover that captured my imagination.  I skimmed through the text on the lining, but I knew that regardless of what I read, I was going to take the book home.  Or at least attempt to.

I carried the book around while I perused other books.  There were a couple of other Stephen King books, but I had what I wanted for the time being, so I tried to take a mental picture of the books nearby so I could find this area again.

I was just considering checking out the kid's section to see what selection they had, when I was approached by the librarian who was concentrating so hard at something on her desk.

I couldn't tell when I first arrived, but now that I was the looking at her up close, I found that she had kind eyes and a warm smile, both of which she flashed at me as she approached.

"Are you Billy?" she asked.

I was shocked that she knew my name, but I never felt uncomfortable with this.  There was no way that this woman could want to hurt me, so I nodded my head.  

"Well," she continued, "I just got a call from your mother, and she wanted to make sure you are alright.  So, are you alright?"

I nodded again, feeling embarrassed about my mother calling.

"Well, she sounded concerned, and it is getting late.  You don't want to make her worry, do you?"

While other adults would have made this sound condescending, she didn't.  In fact, her tone of voice was one she might use to talk to any adult, and that made me feel much better about the situation.

"Can I take books home?" I asked.

The woman smiled, almost proudly, and said, "Well, you have to check books out.  Do you have a library card?"

My heart sank.  We had learned about the library, and that there were many books (but never explained that there were so *many*), but the part about library cards seemed to have been forgotten.  Or I had been daydreaming, which was prone to do. 

The librarian saw the look on my face and said, "Oh, it's easy to do, sweetie.  Why don't you come to the desk and we can get you set up."

"I don't have any money." I said, almost in a whisper.  

The librarian gave a patient, sweet laugh and said, "Well, that's just fine then.  The library only costs money when you keep the books longer than two weeks.  Then you pay a fee."

I was confused, and it showed.

"C'mon," she said taking my hand, "I'll show you."

---

We got to her desk, and I put my book up on the surface.

"Oh my," I heard the librarian say, "That is a pretty big book.  And scary too."

"I know," I said, trying to sound more adult.  I looked her in the eyes to show that I was serious. 

Her eyebrows went up in surprise, and she said, "Do you know what it's about?"

"A dog that kills people." I said, now trying to keep my voice casual about it.  I had hoped she didn't have any more questions because that really was all I knew about the book.  

She studied me for a second, then said, "We usually give out junior library cards to anyone under the age of 16, but if I do that, you can't get this book."

My heart, which began to soar at discovering that checking out books was free, sank again.

"But," she said looking for something on her desk and finding it, "I have your mother's number here.  If I call her and ask her permission for you to get a grownup library card, and if I tell her about this book, do you think she will say yes?"

I thought hard, not really sure if she would let me or not.  But the way I saw it, if I took the book home, and it was forbidden, I would just end up having to bring it back anyway.  There was no hiding anything from that woman.  I had tried many times.

"I don't know." I said, feeling nervous at *not* knowing the answer.  This could no only ruin my chances to read Cujo, but also any other books I wanted until I turned 16.  I didn't know what the children's section had, but I wanted to part of it now that I had tasted a grown up book.

The librarian picked up the phone and dialed my number.  Mom must have been sitting right at the phone, because I'm not even sure it rang more than once.

"Hello, Ms. Brown?  Cindy at the Speedway Public Library.  Yes, your son is here with me, and he wants to get a library card."

The conversation, or at least hearing only half of it, was torture.  I couldn't tell if I was going to get my way or not, since Cindy was using the same voice with my mother as she did with me, always perky, always cheerful, and not showing any other emotion regardless of what she said.  

"Okay," Cindy said, "I'll let him know.  Thank you, Ms. Brown."  She hung up the phone and smiled at me.  

"What did she say?" I asked.

"Well," Cindy said leaning forward, "she said that you can have an adult library card, however if I thought the book would be bad for you, I was allowed to say no."

That was it.  I was done.  She had already told me that she thought that the book was scary, and she probably called my mother hoping to get an ally in preventing me from getting the book.

I felt a flush of anger rising, but before I could even piece together a defense, Cindy said, "If you don't think you can handle this book, bring it back and we can pick out another for you, OK?"

I couldn't help but smile in surprise.

---

15 minutes later, I was walking out of the library with "Cujo" in my hands.  I could have waited to read it when I got home, but I just had to start reading, so I opened the book and began while I walked down the sidewalk to my house.

Besides, I had a 2 week limit on it.

I read that book every chance I had.  I took it to school and read it while the other kids played during recess.  I ate my brown bagged lunch as quickly as I could, so I could spend the rest of the time reading.  I read while I walked home from school, during dinner, and before bed.  

The book scared the ever living daylights out of me, and I slept with the light on and lost any trust that I had to any dog I saw or heard about.  Mom expressed a little concern at first about how scary the books seemed to me, but she also expressed pride that I was reading so well at such a young age.  

Cindy called about a week into the two week limit, asking Mom if I was reading the book.  Mom informed her that no one had been able to take the book away from me since I brought it home.  There was small talk, there was laughter, and then silence.  I knew this because I stopped reading in my room long enough to listen at the door.  Feeling that my book was safe for the final week, I went back to it.

I finished the book the day it was due back.  The ending of the book made me cry, and I did my best to hide it from my mother.  In that time, any tears that I shed were cause for concern, and I didn't want to worry her anymore than she always seemed to be.

I went to the library the next day after school, and I turned in my book to Cindy, who was sitting at her station smiling at me.

"Well?" she said as I dropped the book into the return slot, "What did you think?"

"It was a very sad book.  The dog was sad and the boy..." I said.

Cindy smiled at me sympathetically, "Yes, I know.  The boy is sad too.  Did it make you cry?" 

"Yes." I said honestly, a difficult admission for a boy that age.

"Well, how about a happier book next time, huh?" she asked.

I nodded my head, agreeing that another downer of a book wouldn't be in my best interest.

She had a box of books next to her, and she pulled out a book and handed it to me, "This one is a great book, I think you will like it a lot."

The book was Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland".  I had heard of this book before, but new very little about it.

Compared to Cujo, the book was exceptionally small, and I didn't know how I felt about that.  

"May I have another book, please.  This one seems too short." I said.

Cindy beamed and said, "I hoped you would say that," and gave me "The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn."

---

There are relationships you have with people that can't be tarnished except through separation.  For two years, up until my family moved to the south west part of the city, I spent a lot of quality time at the library, and Cindy was my hero each time.  She suggested books, and asked me questions about what I thought of this character, or how I felt about a certain plot twist.  We had a two person book club going on, and I loved every minute of it. 

Even when I read a book at her recommendation that I ended up disliking, she and I would have a discussion as to why I didn't like it, and I learned from those conversations as well as she did.  They always formed what book she would choose for me next, that is of course, if I hadn't chosen a book for myself.

Cindy was the one I turned to when I discovered, in the summer between my 7 and 8th year of school, that I was moving.  The school I went to, the apartment I lived in, and the people I associated with (of which there were few), were secondary to the fact that I was going to be far away from the library that I loved so much.

When I told her, I cried.  I had moved so many times, both when my father was alive and still in the military, and after he died.  But this was the first move that really affected me because, in a way, I had planted roots.  Not at home, but right in the horror section of the library.  

Cindy hugged me and told me that change was a part of life.  

"You don't know this, because you are young, but nothing lasts forever.  You may not have known that a day like this would come, but I did.  It's the way of things, and you just have to accept it."

I didn't want to accept it.  I didn't want things to change.  I wanted my books to come from *that* library, and I wanted to talk about them with Cindy.  I was convinced that she was the only person that understood me, even if it was only as far as books were concerned.  That was more than I could say than my child therapist, who didn't seem to have a clue about me at all.

The move was to take place two weeks later, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to get a book back in time, so this meeting with Cindy was a sort of goodbye.  It broke my heart, and nothing Cindy said could make me feel better.

---

A few days later, Mom got a call from Cindy asking if it would be alright if I stopped by the library later that afternoon.  Mom never spoke on my behalf on such things, but when she asked me while still on the phone, I nodded my head hesitantly.  I had felt like I had said my goodbye, and I didn't want to go through the rollercoaster of emotions I was sure to feel.

It was a particularly hot day, and it seemed like the longest walk I could imagine, but as soon as I walked into the library, the air conditioning combined with the scent one thousands of books and countless stories revitalized me.

Cindy was at her station, and she smiled as she saw me.  The other two librarians, who were usually too busy to notice me, were staring at me as well. 

Something was up.

Cindy beckoned me over and I approached the desk.

"I know you didn't think you would be coming back, but I have no idea if this new neighborhood you are going to is going to have a descent library.  So, I got these for you." she said, pulling a package from under the desk.

There was a box, neatly wrapped complete with a bow.  The paper was red, and the ribbon was blue, although I suspected that both probably came from the Xmas stash either from the library storage, or Cindy's house.

I looked at the gift, and then to the three women, who were all looking at me with excitement.  The woman on the far left even seemed to have a tear in her eye.  And here I thought they had ignored me the whole time.

I took the present, and I knew exactly what it was.  I could feel books in there.

I gingerly tore off the wrapper, and opened the box.  I looked inside and saw the first title, "To Kill A Mockingbird."

Underneath that was a book called "A Taste For Disquiet"

And the third was "It" by Stephen King.

All of the books were brand new.

"The girls and I thought you might want to start a library of your own." Cindy said, and the other two women nodded.  It never occurred to me that my discussions about books with Cindy would have been overheard, or even appreciated the other two women.

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I went around the desk and hugged each woman in turn.  The third woman giggled as I did and said, "I have never seen someone start reading so young."

I was starting to become overwhelmed with emotion, so I thanked them all and walked out.  I waved at them, and they waved back.  

As I had over two years before, I picked up To Kill A Mockingbird, and started reading while I walked.  

---

Years later I decided to go back to that particularly library to see how time had treated it.  Apparently, it had gone under a huge remodel, and none of the staff that had been there before were there.  I wanted to ask about Cindy and the other librarians, but I didn't see them anywhere, and I didn't know their last names, so I knew the questioning would be fruitless.

The library seemed more modern, with computers where the study cubicles had been.  The furniture had been updated as well and while the computers themselves seemed a bit outdated, a few clicks of a mouse told me that it had completely replaced the Dewey Decimal System.

Just out of curiosity, I decided to see if I could find "Cujo" again.  Almost all of the sections had been rearranged, so it took some hunting, and I happened to spot it by accident when I decided to take a break.  I saw the binding, and I couldn't believe my eyes.  It seemed to be the same one I had checked out years before.  

I pulled the book from the shelf and opened it, looking for one particular sign that it was indeed the same book.

Without thinking, I had dog eared a page right before I went to bed one night when I was reading it, and I was scared to death I was going to be banned from the library forever if I had been caught.  It was on page 139 and for days after I returned the book, I was terrified that my secret would be found out.

And when I found page 139, I found the dog ear, which had flattened out considerably over the years.  

I couldn't believe that the book was still there, but it was in my hands.  Part of me wanted to offer to buy the book, but in the end, I just put back on the shelf.

I sighed, feeling that it was another chapter closed in my life, and I left, taking the refreshed memories with me.  I pulled my keys out of my pocket and looked back at the library.  There, an avid reader was born, and Cindy was the midwife.  I had thanked her for the gift, but I had never thanked her for the lifetime of love I had for book, which she fostered.  

Anytime I walk into any library now, I think of Cindy, sitting at her desk, concentrating on whatever was in front of her, only breaking her attention to help a poor little kid who just wanted to read about a rabid dog, and the people he terrorized.  

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