LIBRARY DAY

Each Wednesday a bus comes to where I live and takes me to Princeton Public Library, picking me up four hours later. Library day in the middle of the week is my Aruba. (Only another dedicated nerd will truly understand that.)  Consider this: when I was a child and decided to run away from home, I went to the library. (I've always been book smart, but not world wise.) 

I could write a post about Princeton Public Library and the wonderful services and events they have, but this blog is about being not quite seventy. As I was standing outside the library today waiting for the bus to pick me up, it dawned on me that I live everyday now as if it was my last. There are a few things about me that haven't changed since I was a child. I got my first library card before I could read. All that was required was for me to print my name on a card. I could do that. When I came home from walking with my brother to the library, I handed my mother a book and asked her to read it to me. I remember the book: BaBar the Elephant. 

My library card was my first credit card. Today it is my only credit card. (I paid off all cards in 1978 and decided to live a cash and carry life.) 

Library day insures that I will continue to read physical bound books. Each week I find a book that interests me and I go to one of the very comfortable chairs and snuggle in. Today I choose a psychological thriller THE CELLAR by Minette Walters. Since the book was only 175 pages, I finished reading it today. If I hadn't observed my weekly library day, I'm sure I wouldn't have read a book. 

I read a book today.  I read a lot online daily, but there is something really special about being able to say I read a book today. It means I unplugged and spent quiet time in a world of imagination. Me. All by myself. I'm a big girl now. I can go to the library all by myself and I can read all of the words in any of the (English) books on the shelves. 

My library has machines that will scan my library card and the books I want to borrow, so that I can now check myself out. A pre-school boy was standing in front of one of the machines, so I handed him my library card, and showed him what to do.  It was the first time he checked out any books, but his mother saw what we were doing and smiled. I'm sure she will let him do so the next time they visit the library.

OK. I don't just read books when I go to the library. I borrow grandchildren, too.