Libraries: A Love Story

Libraries: A Love Story

Is there anyone out there that wanted to work the circulation desk at a library as a child? I know I did. I loved going to the library. I loved the stamp they used on the date card in the book. I loved the sound the stamp made. It sounded so authoritative, so matter of fact. That was to be my book for about a month, and no one could tell me otherwise. 

I loved everything about the library. My hometown library when I was young was a massive round structure. You could enter through the front door up a set of steps that rivaled the Rocky steps, just not as many, which led you to the foyer and then into the library proper where the circular circulation desk stood. Still does. Down a set of stairs to the right took you to the children’s room and some meeting rooms, but the fun part, the part I still enjoy, were the steps to the second floor. The second level did, still does, house nonfiction titles and the reference desk. It was also home to the card catalog. Sometimes I would randomly open a drawer to see where those cards would lead me.

The steps, as I mentioned, were big squares that seemed to defy physics and hover on their way up. They didn’t, but as a child that is what they appeared to do. It took me two, sometimes three strides, to make it to the next step even as a teenager. I’m short. To run up and down those steps meant taking flying leaps across each one. And if you made it without stopping then you were not only a bookworm but an athletic one. The employees didn’t appreciate us running up and down those stairs.

As a teenager, I used to wander the adult fiction stacks, and somewhere along the way, I discovered Stephen King. I immediately fell in love. I also stumbled upon police procedural/raw mystery writer Ed McBain. I devoured his 87th Precinct series. They were unfiltered, gritty, gory, dark, and gloomy. 

Fast forward to college. Trying to study or do research in a college library can be a bit of a challenge. People congregate to study together. Quiet study rooms are snatched up early in the day never to be unleashed again. It could be frustrating. Fortunately, my friends and I discovered where the local public library was located. The only problem was we had to walk, and it wasn’t around the corner from campus. But, being young and in desperate need of a quiet place to research and write, we strapped on our backpacks and headed out. 

My favorite time to utilize this library was on my own. There was something about walking to and from by myself. Is there ever a moment when you are alone with your thoughts on a college campus? Not only that, but because it was the local community library, it felt like a return to life outside of college. It felt like home. It was nice being surrounded by other college students who had also escaped the confines of their communal area. It was nice seeing families with children of all ages attending events and checking out books. Being there felt safe, warm, comfortable, and familiar. I never did look into getting a library card as a local college student, but I tried to make the most of my time using the facility. 

A little too much time.

If you are on a tight schedule, do not take me to the library. A paper with a deadline meant nothing to me as I spent a fair amount of time walking around as if lost. Can you blame me? Who can resist row after row of books? Only a fool, I say!

Time moved on, and I frequented the library less and less. I was in my early twenties. However, I also had my first child in my early twenties so the window for debaucherous fun was short-lived. When she was old enough, I took her to events at the library. She did arts and crafts and attended storytime. In addition, we signed her up for a library card and would check out books on our way home. 

In time, there was child number two and, thus, the second round of storytime and arts and crafts. Also, another library card was procured along with endless amounts of “Fancy Nancy” and “Olivia” books. 

Sadly, neither of my kids are huge readers now. The oldest picks up an occasional book when she can and the youngest isn’t adverse to the random audiobook and manga. 

Where does this leave me now? That library where my kids went to storytime and checked out books is now my current place of employment. Yes, I did it. I work at the circulation desk of my local library. And I love it. Unfortunately, there is no more stamping the due date on cards inserted in the books. Each item has a barcode that gets scanned, not unlike items at a grocery store, then a slip prints with the names and due dates of everything you’ve checked out. Not as fun as a stamp, but still cool that I’m doing something I love in a place I have loved most of my life. 

I have gotten to know many members of our community, our regular patrons, and some have taken the time to ask my name. I get to talk about books, suggest books, plus I still make time to wander around the stacks to appreciate all the books I have read and all those yet to read. If there is a downside, according to my family, I have too many books at home. We get intermittent donations and some of those have come home with me over the years. I have taken to sneaking books into the house because once they are inside my family tends not to notice another pile has grown. 

Visit your local library; a library card is free. If you love to read, or listen to audiobooks, or watch movies, we are the place to go. I hope they are around for a long time for each new generation to experience. It’s cliche, but they are wondrous, magical places ready to introduce you to a new world.

About me:

My name is Dafina Moore. I'm a daughter, sister, friend, niece, cousin, aunt, mom, wife, and library assistant. I've always enjoyed reading and writing, however, I give myself more credit for my reading skills as I aspire to be a published writer. I got a degree in Creative Writing late in life and periodically add to my blog. If I could, I would read all day and write only when I felt I had a good idea. In other words, bedtime. I don’t drink as much coffee as I would like, but I have enough mugs to open a small store. I should probably have a cat as that is the picture I envision of writers. Steaming mugs of coffee, a cat, maybe a cigarette, and a house bordering on woods.

My pronouns are she/her and I am proud to be biracial, Black, and white. Being biracial has been a major theme in most of what I have written. It’s had its ups and downs, but I would not trade my experiences no matter how crappy.

In the meantime, I will continue to jot down ideas that come to me hoping one day they result in a finished book.