Every once in a while Father would announce to us boys we are going to the library. We would shriek and jump up and down as if we had won the lottery. We had to quickly take inventory of what books we had at home and were they ready to return and if not finished to better get cracking before we went. My brothers often had a list of ‘to read’ which they would ask The Librarian* if they were available. I often took a different tack, as I will tell you.

Upon entering the hallowed halls of The Library, we immediately hushed although it was often hard to curtail a squeal of delight at finding out the book you have longed to read is finally available and waiting at the counter. While Father went directly to the fiction section looking for Jack Ryan novels, I went to the large wooden filing cabinets and randomly picked a bin (‘Ma-Mo’ perhaps) and pull it open by its brass knob and finger through the index cards to come across a title that grabbed me. It was like a treasure hunt. With the dewy decimal clue in my head I would go find the book, and if it was there, would it be as wonderful as I wanted it to be. Perhaps it wasn’t there – a disappointment – but just a few books down from the gap on the shelf was another book waving its cover at me. What I wanted to find was a magical tome all but forgotten that when opened it would reveal a marvelous tale or perhaps lead me to a faraway land. Sometimes this happened.

Wandering through the stacks looking at titles at eye level (mine) sometimes this didn’t come up with anything. No fear, there were always the ‘favorites’ that were read and reread. You had to sign your name on the lender log in the front of the book. There was my name, taking up four or five lines in a row sign with some upstart stranger’s handwriting breaking the run. I would pay a lot of money to have some of those books again.**

It seemed then people were quiet and they were there to read or study. The common denominator was reading, which everyone took seriously like a religion. There was no talking but some moved their lips while reading like a priest does when he reads the prayers Secreto.

If you didn’t like the library then you didn’t go – and left us superior reader types to our books.

I hear tell libraries are shutting down mostly from indifference and lack of use. Fewer people go to the library these days; if people want to read or research something they do that online or on their Kindles. The index card filing cabinets are all gone – I wonder what happened to them. Libraries, once a quiet realm, are under siege from @-holes who want to ban books – not that they or their children go to libraries or actually read. It is all about control; if people read and became knowledgable thems in power would lose control.

If there is a hell I hope there is a special level for book burners and book banners.

There is a local branch of The Phoenix Library not too far from La Casa de Spo. I have tried going but it is a disappointment. The place feels oddly bereft of books. Rather there are video and games to rent. The librarian (who doesn’t look or sound at all god-like) will looks things up on their screen to see if said book is here or somewhere else and would I like to order it to be sent here? Somehow this takes all the fun out of it. All the same when I go which is usually on a Saturday morning among the few browsers there is often a parent with some youngsters who look as excited about their books as I was. It makes me smile to see them and the sight gives me hope thems who read and thems who go to libraries will endure.

Do you go to libraries?

Is your library in trouble from lack of money or vile sorts wanting their will imposed on them?

*Librarians were perceived to be gods, all knowing and worth our reverence. One did not talk louder than a whisper to these sage goddesses.

**One of them was titled “Red Letter Days” which gave some history of the various holidays. I forgot how I got it but there it stands on my shelf, its dust jacket quite worn and ripped some. What a treasure.