Why I Love It

I love books.  It is a love that was fostered and encouraged by my mother.  We had books.  My mom had my dad provide two large built in bookshelves in each bedroom when he built their house.  We got books when my mom went on a trip without us.  We got books for birthday presents.  We got books for Christmas presents.  We got books from school orders.

I love to own books because I love to re read them.  I like to look at their friendly faces on my shelves.  I love substantial hardcover books.  I love compact paperback books.  I love elegant slim volumes of poetry.

I love bookstores big and small.  I love used bookstores. I love new bookstores.  I love Amazon.com (and not just because they employ my beloved).

But then something happened.

I ran out of bookshelves.  And I ran out of walls to fill with new bookshelves.

I turned to the library.  At first with nearly disastrous results.  I'd have a book I was looking for, I'd look for it on the computer and go to where it was supposed to be on the shelf.

It was never there.

I'd have Mark in an umbrella stroller.  He'd arch his back and strain against the stroller.  He'd vocalize his displeasure while I looked for books that were rarely on the shelves.

(and loud boys named Mark are rather frowned upon in quiet libraries)

Once I was at the library with Mark and Emma.  Emma must have been 5 or 6 but she was a great reader.  I settled Mark and Emma in the children's section of the library and instructed Emma to read to Mark.  I went looking for a book (that wasn't there).  When I returned to the children's section--after not very long, the library is small--Mark was gone.

"Where's Mark?"

Emma looked up from the book she was reading with a blank look.  She didn't know.

"Where's Mark?!"

Emma said vaguely that he'd left.  I frantically searched the library.  I couldn't find him.  I hurried to the door to look outside where there is a very busy street.  When I passed the bathrooms, I heard him, singing merrily, in the men's bathroom.  It was the happiest song I'd ever heard.  My little two year old with high mobility was also a singer.  He sang before he talked.  I gathered him and Emma and went home.   Later, when I asked Emma, "WHY didn't you read to him like I asked?" 

She answered, "I did read to him.  He left after I finished the book."  She didn't understand that reading to him was babysitting him but like I said, she was young.  It was really my fault.

So I was about ready to give up on the library.  Library + Mark didn't work and I could never find anything anyway.

Then I discovered that I could put books on hold (cue angelic choir singing hallelujah).

Our little library is part of a rather large two county system that has A LOT of books.

All I had to do was find the books online, at home, with Mark well contained.  The library would in turn send me an email when the book was ready for me.  I could pop in and pick up my books (from the D shelf) in about 2 minutes.

Problem solved.

I'm back in books.

I put books on hold like a compulsive shopper (except they're free).  Sometimes I get a big stack of books in at once which makes me a little panicky--how will I read them all?  But another great thing about the library is that, within reason, the due dates are mostly suggestions.  Also, with my ever present pile of books if something doesn't suit me, I can shut it with a satisfying thwap and pick another title.

I love the library.

My basket (of books) runneth over.

And I love that.