For Love of the Library
Memories from a special place
Can you think of any place that is more welcoming than a library? What could be better? Comfy nooks, helpful staff, and endless books! Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I head to the library and my faith in humanity is (usually) restored in a small but significant way.
Don’t get me wrong, I love coffee shops. But they can be overwhelming for a highly sensitive introvert. Is that hipster staring at me because he knows I don’t belong here? Why are these chairs so uncomfortable? Why are they blasting metal music? When I walk into a library, I can exhale. I know that I belong.
There are so few places where you can go and nothing is expected of you (especially monetarily). Life is so expensive right now. I decided to treat myself recently and ordered a lavender latte instead of my usual decaf Americano and it was $6!
Libraries are open, accessible, and free. The library staff is welcoming to them. To appreciate why this matters, compare the social space of the library with the social space of a popular commercial establishment such as Starbucks or McDonald’s. Commercial entities are valuable parts of the social infrastructure, and there’s no doubt that classic “third places",” including cafes, bars, and restaurants, have helped revitalize cities and suburbs. But not everyone can afford to frequent them, and not all paying customers are welcome to stay for long. Spending time in a market-driven social setting — even a relatively inexpensive fast food restaurant or pastry shop — requires paying for the privilege. (https://aestheticdistance.com/blog/libraries-socialism)
I grew up at the library. As a kid, summer and reading went hand in hand. My mom signed me up for all the summer reading programs: my school’s, the local book store’s and the library’s. Having my very own library card made me feel important. The library acknowledged my personhood, the fact that I was a child didn’t matter. I had my own card. It was mine. It had a dedicated slot in my otherwise empty wallet.
During a breathwork session a few months ago, the guide said to think of a moment of gratitude and I thought of The Storyteller, the local bookshop in my hometown (which is now this trendy restaurant). My mom would force me to do their summer reading program, as well as the library’s and my school’s - lots of summer reading programs! The Storyteller’s program asked the most of us young readers - it was competitive. The summer after I finished 1st grade, we moved towns (a whopping 8 miles) and I immediately got to reading. I remember thinking the library’s program was such a joke compared to The Storytellers - they required a much deeper breadth of reading where the library essentially just gave our participation points for reading ANY book. The Storyteller required us to read at least five different genres, which I hated at the time but appreciate now.
I actually rarely spent time at the library in college. UC Berkeley has 27 libraries but the “main stacks” were where EVERYONE studied. For this reason, I avoided the main library like the plague. Although Doe Library is beautiful, it makes my heart race with stress. Finding a seat was a highly competitive endeavor. I preferred to study in the safety of my room. I’d kill time between classes at the Music Library, which was much more peaceful.
Libraries encourage interaction and help build a sense of community. After my sophomore year of college, I decided to volunteer at the library. I created and presented a program for my local library called “Spanish Story Time” where I read classic books written in Spanish to children. I was also a Program Host Volunteer and I answered patron questions, assisted in children’s programs, special events and monitored the library. It was so much fun!
Since moving to a new city in December, my local library has helped me get more involved and try new things. In January, I took a class called “Writers Writing - Season of Delight: Reflective Writing for the New Year.” For one of our exercises, we read “Why do we not sing these things as miracles?” by Brian Doyle.
“I whisper the word classroom to you, and there you are fourth row fifth seat, near the coatrack where you and your friends hid from the substitute teacher that time. I say aunt, and there is one particular aunt for reasons only you know. I say float, and there you are leaping or diving or whirling in the gleaming river, and the cottonwood trees along the way are flittering their leaves all at once as if they are amused or applauding or pointing the way. I say memory, and you say, with dawning surprise, everything, and I say imagination, and you say, so very quietly that I almost don’t hear it, that imagination is remembering that which has not yet happened, but will.”
“Imagination is remembering that which has not happened yet, but will.” Wow. I needed to hear that. A reminder to think expansively. I am very good at remembering, reminiscing, and getting lost in nostalgia. But I struggle to imagine. I feel lost when I try to picture the future. Why is it so difficult for me to daydream? When did I lose my sense of exploration?
This makes me think of an episode of “Fleishman Is In Trouble,” which struck me so deeply. It relates to how I see myself. In the episode, the character struggling wants to return to her youth, when she was “all potential.” I think I have shifted my perception of myself. I have decided that I am fixed. I am no longer “all potential.” I am no longer young. I must KNOW who I am by now. The exploration period has passed. But this is absolutely ridiculous. It makes me think of Nora Ephron’s graduation speech, “You will not always be fixed, immutable you.” You will not be the same person you were five years ago. I know intuitively that I am not the same person that I once was. Society has told me that, now that I am married, I live in a house, and I am of child-rearing age, I must have life figured out by now. But I don’t. I keep berating myself, “Why haven’t I figured this out? This whole life thing?” It is so hard, impossible for me, to accept that I will never feel like I know what I am doing. I know that I am currently in a transition period and it won’t always feel like this. But I don’t think I’ll ever receive a letter in the mail congratulating me for figuring out my life.
I don’t want to live in the past, wishing for youth. I want to embrace my knowledge and what I know to be true. But I want to hold those truths lightly, not with such a tight fist. I want to open myself up to the wisdom of not knowing. I’ve always considered myself to be a curious person. Yet somewhere along the way, I stopped granting myself the same degree of grace that comes with being inquisitive. I stopped questioning myself. I stopped exploring. I let fear seep in. “This must be as good as it gets.” I stopped imagining. No more potential. This is it. Cling to this current version. I was bereft when things changed. I felt like I was losing so much. Precious objects were falling out of my hands and every time I went to pick them up, another fell out of my grasp. Always grasping. I want to throw them all up in the air now.
I’ve always found it interesting how you can picture a new experience in your mind, and then after you finish this experience, you can’t remember how you pictured it initially. Your mind replaces fantasy with reality. I can never conjure up the fantasy version once I have lived the reality. I wish I could make my brain remember how I pictured it before it happened. How can we know that a memory or a feeling will soon be lost forever? It’s like a ticking time bomb, I know that this idea will soon be replaced with another. Is it ever possible to preserve? I suppose I have to write down what I imagine before it happens instead of letting reality overwrite my daydream.
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Other fantastic events I’ve attended at the library:
What Is Left Unsaid - Communicating What Matters Most (April 2023)
Death Café (May 2023)
Writers Writing - Tying the Knot: Committing to Your Writing (June 2023)
Writers Writing - Alchemy of Joy: Creative Writing & Bookmaking (July 2023)
My favorite libraries:
Lafayette Library and Learning Center Foundation - This was built in 2009. I was a patron of the OG location (RIP) which seems run down and sad compared to this palace.
Carmel Library - We’d go there when visiting my grandparents and I had to finish the books before we left at the end of the weekend which was a time crunch!
Jean Gray Hargrove Music Library - Berkeley, CA
Berkeley Law Library - Except they would come around and check your ID to ensure you were a law student, which I was not.
NW Portland Library - Oregon
Downtown Bend - Oregon
Sunriver - Another vacation spot that put me on the clock to finish before the week ended.
Barber Library - Central Oregon Community College
Sun City Library - Arizona
Scottsdale Library - Arizona
Honorable mentions (book shops):
The Storyteller (RIP) - Lafayette, CA
Thunderbird Books (RIP) - Carmel, CA
Pilgrims Way Community Bookstore and Secret Garden - Carmel, CA
Griffin Bay Bookstore - I visited the San Juan Islands with my new roommates soon after moving to Portland. I was newly sober and they went wine tasting. I went to this bookstore and read “Wild” then went to an AA meeting and cried.
Bonanza Street Books (RIP) - Walnut Creek, CA
City Lights - San Francisco, CA
Roundabout Books - Bend, OR
Aesthetically beautiful libraries I have only visited:
UW’s Suzzallo Library - Seattle, WA
Arrowtown Library - New Zealand
Decker Branch Library - Denver, CO
On my to-visit list:
Livraria Lello - Porto, Portugal (apparently costs 5 euro to get in - hence why I love LIBRARIES)
Where do you feel most at peace?
What are your favorite libraries/bookstores?
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I love this visual: Precious objects were falling out of my hands and every time I went to pick them up, another fell out of my grasp. Always grasping. I want to throw them all up in the air now.
It could be the beginning of your book.