stories both old and new
Back from vacation, which was absolutely wonderful. Some of the highlights were wandering around with 
muji past monuments and beneath cherry trees and then through the SPY MUSEUM (!!!), dinner with her and with
gramarye1971,
skygiants, and
phoenixchilde, followed by a long drawn-out adventure in search of cupcakes (we found them), which we bore in triumph off to join
lunamystic and bookwench31, followed the next day by a group excursion to see The Hunger Games.
I loved it, by the way. I plan to go see it again tonight on the IMAX screen, since it’s only there for a week, and after that I might try to get more coherent thoughts together in a detailed review, since I do in fact have many of them. In the meantime, I’m listening to the Songs from District 12 and Beyond soundtrack here at work, and enjoying every minute and every note.
I’m also still working on the topics that were suggested in this post, albeit slowly. One of them was a request to write about “a library experience that's stuck with you, whether from childhood or adulthood.”
I don’t actually remember the first time I went to the library. It’s been a part of my life for as long as I can recall, because I started reading somewhere around age two -- according to my parents, that’s about the time they had to start hiding the newspaper from me, because I would ask questions about the words in the headlines and articles that I didn’t know yet. Anyway, it turns out that because I was reading so much and so quickly, they couldn’t keep up only with the books we had in the house, which is why I ended up as the youngest member of the family to have my own library card. How that came to pass is something I only remember bits and pieces of myself, but the whole thing is one of those family stories that gets told and retold for whatever reason.
According to my mother, the reason we’d gone to the library that day was twofold: in part for her to get a few books for herself, and in part to select books for me and get me a card of my own so that I could check them out. At that time, the library limited checkouts to five books per card, so it wasn’t really feasible for her to get books for both of us with her single ID. I think I must have been about four or so - too young for kindergarten or even preschool, and too small to see over the counter without pulling myself up on tiptoe, so I didn’t bother trying. I remember running my hand over the side surface of the counter as I waited, following the patterns of the wood grain with my fingertips to see where they’d lead, while above my head my mother set the books on the counter and started explaining about the need for another card.
The librarian was an older woman whose name I can’t now remember, stern and no-nonsense, with glasses that she used to peer over the frames of in order to stare down anyone who was causing trouble of any sort. She looked over the books and sniffed at my mother.
“And I suppose you’re going to read all these to her?”
“No,” my mother said. “She’s going to read them herself.”
“No she’s not. She can’t read. She’s too little. Don’t lie to me.”
My mother stared at her for a moment, then turned to me. “[Aspen]?”
I had wandered a little way down the side of the counter by this time, but I looked up when I heard my name, and saw her crooking her finger at me while the librarian watched. “Come here.”
I came back and with her help climbed up on a nearby bench so that I could see over the counter, and looked at the librarian, who stabbed her finger at a piece of paper which was taped to the countertop, and which detailed the library policy on checkouts and fines. “Read that,” she said. “Aloud.”
So I did.
From that day forward I was the equivalent of the “teacher’s pet” for that librarian, who appointed herself my after-school babysitter when need be, enrolled me in the summer reading programs, and personally saw to it that I had the run of the place along with all the books I ever wanted, on all kinds of subjects, opening up worlds to me that otherwise I might never have known.
Libraries remain places of wonder and delight to me. I’m hopeful that they’ll continue to be so for many, many more generations of children for years to come.
This entry was originally posted at http://silveraspen.dreamwidth.org/273575.html and mirrored to LJ. Please comment where you wish! (There are
comments currently posted at Dreamwidth.)
muji past monuments and beneath cherry trees and then through the SPY MUSEUM (!!!), dinner with her and with
gramarye1971,
skygiants, and
phoenixchilde, followed by a long drawn-out adventure in search of cupcakes (we found them), which we bore in triumph off to join
lunamystic and bookwench31, followed the next day by a group excursion to see The Hunger Games.
I loved it, by the way. I plan to go see it again tonight on the IMAX screen, since it’s only there for a week, and after that I might try to get more coherent thoughts together in a detailed review, since I do in fact have many of them. In the meantime, I’m listening to the Songs from District 12 and Beyond soundtrack here at work, and enjoying every minute and every note.
I’m also still working on the topics that were suggested in this post, albeit slowly. One of them was a request to write about “a library experience that's stuck with you, whether from childhood or adulthood.”
I don’t actually remember the first time I went to the library. It’s been a part of my life for as long as I can recall, because I started reading somewhere around age two -- according to my parents, that’s about the time they had to start hiding the newspaper from me, because I would ask questions about the words in the headlines and articles that I didn’t know yet. Anyway, it turns out that because I was reading so much and so quickly, they couldn’t keep up only with the books we had in the house, which is why I ended up as the youngest member of the family to have my own library card. How that came to pass is something I only remember bits and pieces of myself, but the whole thing is one of those family stories that gets told and retold for whatever reason.
According to my mother, the reason we’d gone to the library that day was twofold: in part for her to get a few books for herself, and in part to select books for me and get me a card of my own so that I could check them out. At that time, the library limited checkouts to five books per card, so it wasn’t really feasible for her to get books for both of us with her single ID. I think I must have been about four or so - too young for kindergarten or even preschool, and too small to see over the counter without pulling myself up on tiptoe, so I didn’t bother trying. I remember running my hand over the side surface of the counter as I waited, following the patterns of the wood grain with my fingertips to see where they’d lead, while above my head my mother set the books on the counter and started explaining about the need for another card.
The librarian was an older woman whose name I can’t now remember, stern and no-nonsense, with glasses that she used to peer over the frames of in order to stare down anyone who was causing trouble of any sort. She looked over the books and sniffed at my mother.
“And I suppose you’re going to read all these to her?”
“No,” my mother said. “She’s going to read them herself.”
“No she’s not. She can’t read. She’s too little. Don’t lie to me.”
My mother stared at her for a moment, then turned to me. “[Aspen]?”
I had wandered a little way down the side of the counter by this time, but I looked up when I heard my name, and saw her crooking her finger at me while the librarian watched. “Come here.”
I came back and with her help climbed up on a nearby bench so that I could see over the counter, and looked at the librarian, who stabbed her finger at a piece of paper which was taped to the countertop, and which detailed the library policy on checkouts and fines. “Read that,” she said. “Aloud.”
So I did.
From that day forward I was the equivalent of the “teacher’s pet” for that librarian, who appointed herself my after-school babysitter when need be, enrolled me in the summer reading programs, and personally saw to it that I had the run of the place along with all the books I ever wanted, on all kinds of subjects, opening up worlds to me that otherwise I might never have known.
Libraries remain places of wonder and delight to me. I’m hopeful that they’ll continue to be so for many, many more generations of children for years to come.
This entry was originally posted at http://silveraspen.dreamwidth.org/273575.html and mirrored to LJ. Please comment where you wish! (There are
comments currently posted at Dreamwidth.)