My Love for the Library

It was only a bike ride away – a short walk in the winter – but when I entered the Bala-Cynwyd Library on Levering Mill Road, I knew I was entering another world. For hours on end I would browse the shelves to find new universes of knowledge, frequently curling up on the floor, or at one of the little tables, to stretch my imagination or discover a new hobby. Reading enlarged my soul, and the smart, patient librarians were ever tolerant of my endless questions and even more endless presence.

I'd gotten the library habit early – at the giant Free Library of Philadelphia. There, I spent precious time in the stacks learning firsthand the meaning of “serendipity” while waiting for one of my parents to collect me after school. It was a little scary being in such a huge building, but I loved that I could find anything my young mind wanted. When we moved to Cherry Bend in Merion, as I entered fourth grade, and I realized that I could get to the library by myself, it was as liberating as getting my driver's license. Now I could go there at will – whenever hockey or basketball or tennis practice didn't interfere – and now I could have my very own card to borrow books. Which I did, over and over and over.

I wish I could remember specifically which books I took out, and which I devoured, but the titles of what we owned and what I had on loan have become conflated over time. But I'm betting the hand-written records of the rubber-stamped cards would include a generous and eclectic selection of subjects from magic tricks to salamander habits, from Nancy Drew to Cherry Ames, from ancient history to modern art. And somehow, the constant fragrance of – what where they, lilies? – made it all so much sweeter, although I would be hard-pressed to tell you whether they were actual flowers or just the lovely perfume on the ladies behind the desk. I can still smell it today. And I am so grateful that it – and the library – were there for me.

- Lynn Sherr, Television Journalist, Author, Eternal Reader

The Fantasist’s Library

Libraries have long played an essential part in my life. I can, in fact, make the case that it was a library that started me down the path of writing fantasy literature in the first place.

When I was very young my parents would take me every couple weeks to the Des Moines Public Library. This was a huge, imposing building with a central card file the size of some 1960s science fiction computer; and branching off from this central space what seemed like endless rooms filled with books, as well as steps up to another ring of rooms around a balcony from which you could look down and see other people pulling out the skinny card drawers, flipping through the cards, jotting notes with their stubby pencils. It was one of those places where, because nobody was talking, you learned by observing. And there was something arcane and seductive and almost sacred about it.

For a number of years my parents came in and helped me pick out books to read. Mostly I remember coming home with stacks of all the Dr. Seuss you could throw a turtle at. I’m sure there was something else in the mix, but The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins has taken over my memory of that period.

Somewhere along in this process, they just turned me loose to find my own books. I must have been nine or ten when that happened.

The first book I can recall taking out of the library of my own choosing was a retelling of The Odyssey of Homer by one Barbara Leonie Picard. The cover and interior art was by someone named Kidell-Monroe and it was in the style of Greek black figure art off amphorae and pottery. Quite clearly I can remember sitting in a big chair in our living room and just falling into that book like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. Heroes, a cyclops, sirens, Scylla and Charybdis . . . this was not Dr. Seuss. This was the most amazing thing I’d ever encountered, and thereafter all I wanted was more of the same. The fantastic became my meat and drink, so that well before I got to high school I’d already devoured countless science fiction and fantasy novels, short stories, collections and anthologies. I’d already encountered dystopic futures, and epic tales of barbarians, Beowulf and Grendel, Bradbury’s Mars, Heinlein’s space suit, and Jack Williamson’s humanoids.

Some of those came out of the library as well, but I only hold it responsible for that initial selection. It delighted me to find out, ten years back, that Ms. Picard’s rendition of The Odyssey was still in print all these years later. I owe her, big-time.

- Gregory Frost, Local Author

Library Exercise

I don’t have a library story. But I do have a fun library exercise.

It’s also the perfect remedy for boredom. Give it a try.

Walk into a library – grab a piece of scrap paper and tear it into ten pieces. Number the pieces 0 through 9. Shuffle them. Pick 3 or 4 numbers – for example: 739.

Now simply walk to section 739 in your library and read something from that section. No cheating – you have to stick to that section.

You don’t even have to read an entire book. Sometimes it’s enough to just browse a section you’ve never visited.You never know – it may lead you to discover your next passion.

It works for me – that’s how I got interested in collecting 15^th Century western Italian butterfly milk containers decorated with rare peasant poetry translated into Pig-Latin.

-Gene Barretta, Local Author