Dealing With The Librarian

Elementary school was the shiny part of my formal education. I have some memories of the experience and realize I was a really good student at the time. I don't know what changed later on, but it could have been a variety of reasons, including family problems and a severe concussion that occurred when I was young.

As I was mowing the yard today, I had a memory of the librarian. I guess she was sweet, although I really don't remember, but I do remember thinking she had a remarkable resemblance to "Mr. Waverly" on "The Man From Uncle".

My mother had a printing shop during that time. Included with her business was printing bound forms, which were placed in a special press. After placed, the top was painted with a plastic substance, which left a form easily torn from the pad. Since the forms might need trimming, the pads were made and trimmed afterward in a substantial paper cutter. This left thin pieces of pads, which were great for libraries, since one could be torn off and given with each book. My mother would send us with bags full of the bookmarks to give to the librarian. The librarian loved them.

I know we did book reports, although I can't remember a one, but somewhere during that time period, I became fascinated by World War Two.

They taught us how to use the card catalog, so I knew how to find the books of my interest. I'd check them out and usually read them in one sitting.

What led to the fascination? I have no idea, but I'm still fascinated by the war, those that fought and terrible toll on the world.

Anyway, one day, while checking out the book of my choice, the librarian gave me a stern look and told me I couldn't check it out. She went on to explain I was reading too many books of that type and I needed to broaden my subjects.

I was crushed, ashamed, wondering if I'd crossed some indiscernible line and troubled by my inability to know my error in judgement. I returned to the aisle, found what I considered drivel and went on; still troubled and ashamed.

From that point on, the librarian was an adversary. In deference to her being an adult, I never checked out another book about World War Two and found the encyclopedia at home.

I'd read for hours. It was like surfing the internet. I'd start with "A" and never know where it would end. I'd even practice self-discipline and read only one volume from one end to the other. I probably read every volume at least twice.

So, what did I learn? Nothing and everything, although I was happy with the ability to read without intervention.

Life is a strange occurrence. The little things add up to the big things and we're left to wonder about the path we took and marvel when obscure events surface at the strangest of times.