The library has really been on my mind these last few months. As a kid I spent a lot of time at my local public library (the Olde Town Arvada branch behind the Junior High, excuse me, middle school) which has since been transformed into a stunning two-story building in the center of Olde Town with huge windows and the standard geometric print armchairs that serve as shorthand for "modern". I would retreat to the library whenever things were tough at home and in summer my idea of getting outside was huffing and puffing on my bike to sneak off to the dark, cool stacks in the library. I fell in love with all things Judy Blume in that library and religiously read "Tiger Eyes" every fall. I remember the year at elementary school when I discovered the banned book list and immediately got a copy of "Wifey," which I read hidden behind a back issue of Cat Fancy, sweating and nervously chewing my lip every time an adult came near me. When I got to the part where she goes for a check up I distinctly remember looking up the word "gynecologist" and nearly hyperventilated while reading the rest of the paragraph. I wore a dark turtleneck for months thanks to Holden Caulfield and stopped washing my hair to pay homage to Kerouac. I had my first kiss and my first cigarette behind the rounded exterior on the west side of the library. I can't remember what color the walls were in my childhood bedroom or what I got for my 10th birthday, but all I have to do is close my eyes and I can see the library perfectly. The wood paneling on the walls, the two-tone wood tables and chairs, the tall counter of the librarian's desk, the beanbags in the kids' area, the boxy white microfiche readers and the long row of shelves where the encyclopedias and Kelly Blue Books were stored. Books can transform any child who takes the time to let it happen and I was no exception. I set out each day, book in hand and loved the feeling of finally taking a break, only to discover that it was almost dinner time.
I recently popped into our neighborhood Barnes & Noble so the boys could play with the fancy train set and practically fell over the giant table in the entryway that overflowed with Nooks. Behind the table a salesman said, "Hi! Would you like to try one?" I think I covered my mouth with my hand and shook my head quickly. Then he went in for the kill: "Are you sure? We haveallllll these new colors to choose from..." As we bolted for the kids' section I forced myself not to look back. I am that old female cliche when it comes to color choices, after all.
I still frequent the library just as much, but in a very different capacity. These days you can find me hunting down the board book with the most puppy photos (NOT illustrations) and skimming the cookbooks where I carry out as many as I can hold. I check my library account every day and can't remember the last time that my requests dropped below 30. I am that crazy person who gets it, renews it 3 times, grudgingly returns it, comes home, requests it again. After 7 or 8 months of this I sometimes buy it. So you can imagine how my long-standing relationship with the Dewey Decimal system has influenced my opinion on fancy e-readers.
I've spent a lot of time forcing myself not to think about the amazing abilities of the Kindle, the Nook, the horribly named iPad. Part of my aversion stems from my refusal to bring any item into our home that doesn't, a: Get rid of arm jiggle b: Make my eyes look less puffy c: Allow me to sleep right through diaper washing/bean soaking day or d: Glue my cowlicks down for at least 3 hours but whenever the gadget lust kicks in I see the face of my favorite childhood librarian and poof! just like that...it's gone. I think of how she looked the other way when I'd bust out my Fun Dip packet and discreetly steal licks from the front pocket of my backpack, the day she solemnly set "War and Peace" in my too young hands and said, "Now, this is probably too old for you, but you may want to give it a try." These are the words that all kids dream of hearing and from then on I felt a new sense of purpose to my reading.
For now, I study my cuticles while my Amazon wish list loads to avoid seeing the big Kindle on the front page, but I'm guessing later this year when Kindle allows the loaning of library e-books I, too, will break down and be one of the many moms coordinating my Bensimon sneakers with the fancy pattern on my e-reader cover.
