The Holy Library

I love books. I love their smell, their binding, and their heft in my hand. And yes, I often judge a book by its cover; some are just more interesting than others. At the end of this blog I have put in a link to a game; see if you can name the book by its cover.

This obsession with books began at a young age. In grade school, I would get all excited when the bookmobile would come, and impatiently wait outside for my turn to enter this cramped and wobbly library-on-wheels. When the Scholastic Book fliers would be handed out, I felt like I had received a catalog for Tiffany's, with each page boasting more exotic treasures than the previous. Page one:  Are you my Mother?; Frog and Toad; Velveteen Rabbit. Page two: Bread and Jam for Frances; Corduroy; Where the Wild Things Are. Page three: Caps for Sale; Little House on the Prairie; Wind in the Willows. Page four: Johnny Tremain; A Wrinkle in Time; Charlotte's Web. I'd scrape up or "borrow" enough money to buy something. But the truth is, I never read them; I just wanted them. I was a covetter.

On Saturday's, my dad would bring me to the Solon Public Library, a very sacred place to me. The doors to this brick rectangle opened into a wide hallway with display cases and bathrooms to the left. After getting a drink from the water fountain--that holy water was always satisfyingly cold!--we'd enter through the second set of doors and into the inner sanctum.

 It was like entering a Catholic Church complete with priests, altar, rituals, and contrivances.

• The Priests: Unlike those in the Pope-led Catholic Church, these priest's were women. Non-smiling women. Women who held the power. Women in polyester dresses.
• The altar and Ritual #1: Completely cut off from the congregation by a 3 foot horseshoe counter. Here you would approach the librarian with your pile of books to return either sin-free, or to ask for absolution:
•  Me: "Bless me, Librarian, for I have sinned. I have three overdue books."
• And receive penance. Librarian: "Give me fifteen cents and promise to never overdue again."
• The Contrivances:
• The Library Card: Tangible proof of your Baptismal Rite of Initiation
• The Take-Out Slip: Pocketed in the back of the book and presented during Offertory.
• Ritual # 2: The Blessing and Dismissal.

Our library was one big room with a row of tall book cases separating the kid's section from the not-kid's section. Dad would drop me off in the former and then go hang out in the latter. I can still conjure up its smells, colors, and textures. I'd go from right to left, removing books willy-nilly from the shelves based on my criteria of thier smell and cover art. Hardbacks with those plastic cover-protectors exclusive to libraries, were my favorites. I would avoid the wretched weathered and wrinkled paperbacks. My choices ranged from picture books to teen fiction. Stack in hand, I would go to the not-kid section to find my dad reading maps and reference books. When he was ready we'd go check out.

And there, at Ritual #2, I'd pull out the slips from the back of the books and use the midget pencil to inscribe my name: Patricia Krasowski. This was proof for the ages that I existed; that I was a member of this church, this denomination of readers! Although I was a poser, someone more intrigued by the accoutrement's of the religion and not its beliefs, I knew deep in my heart they understood but still accepted me. This is a very 1970's notion, by the way.

But our morning was not over:

• Ritual #3: The Tavern. After leaving the library, Dad would take me to the Tavern where we would partake of Communion. A Beer for him and Coke--in a bottle!--and pretzels for me.

PLAY THE BOOK COVER GAME!
 http://www.sporcle.com/games/g/bookcovers