I
admit it. I’m a bookworm. I like the feel of books, the way pages turn, even
the smell of the paper and glue; and that’s not to mention the joy I get from
reading anything – fiction or nonfiction.
It
must have been before I was three because we were living in the city at the
time when the first library I entered was in an old, dark building with a side
entrance. Many of the books on the lower
two shelves (that I could reach) had little gold stars stuck on their binders. I
have no idea why those stars were there or why I decided to remove as many as I
could while my mother browsed. I recall
we made a fast exit.
Shortly
after that we migrated with the other post war families to the ‘burbs and it
soon became apparent a local library was needed. As an interim measure, the town set up a
“library” of sorts in the back room of a department store anchored in one of
those new fangled shopping centers. B.Forman Company was an upscale store that
specialized in more fashionable clothing lines and right past the shoe
department was that magical room.
It
was large enough to house only 5 rows of books, one small table with chairs and
one checkout desk. But to me, it was a room full of reading adventures. It was
small, cozy and the library lady was very nice as she used a pencil to check
out my books. I could stop in any time because it was on the route I walked
daily to my school. (Which may I point out, was about a mile away from my home
and we were NOT bussed – not even when I was in kindergarten. We walked in bunches
and there was one crossing lady. Period.)
Anyway,
now I live in a much larger town and our huge library is one of my favorite
places BUT it can’t give the sense of anticipation the back room of the
B.Forman Company gave the littlest bookworm.
